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Mitru
HIPComix Artist
Joined: Wed Feb 03, 2010 11:17 am
Posts: 2767
Location: Bilbao (Spain)
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 TARZANN -The Last Law of the Wild- 01 The sun was a merciless diamond in the cloudless Gabonese sky, bleaching the sand of the Loango coast to a blinding white. The air shimmered with heat, thick with the salt of the Atlantic and the rich, loamy scent of the jungle that crowded the shore. And through that shimmer, a blur of muscle and motion cut a path along the water’s edge.
She moved not like a human, but like a force of nature given a single, perfect form. Tarzan. Her bare feet, soles hardened to leather, left shallow, fleeting impressions in the wet sand. Sun-bleached hair, a wild mane streaked with gold, streamed behind her like a banner. Her only clothing was a bikini of spotted leopard pelts, the soft fur doing little to contain the powerful architecture of her body—the defined cords of her abdomen, the sculpted curve of her shoulders, the long, tensile strength of her legs. She was eighteen years old and the jungle had written every one of those years onto her flesh with a ruthless, loving hand.
A chorus of delighted trumpets echoed her passage. A duo of young forest elephants, their hides still wrinkled and soft, galloped clumsily beside her, their big feet throwing up great plumes of sand. She laughed, a sound as clean and sharp as shattered glass, and leapt, her body arcing over a beached log. She landed in a silent crouch, one hand braced on the sand, and the calves skidded to a halt around her, bumping into each other with happy, rumbling confusion.
“Too slow!” she chirped, reaching out to scratch the thick, tough skin behind one calf’s ear. “The tide will take your breakfast if you do not hurry.”
The largest calf raised its trunk and blew a wet, sandy puff of air into her face.
“Hmph. Your arguments are weak.” She gave a final pat and straightened, her pale blue eyes losing their playfulness as they scanned the tree line.
Her work here was done; the young ones were safe from the hyenas that sometimes haunted the mangroves at night. The jungle, her true home, called. But first, there was another call, a older, softer one.
With a final nudge to her pachyderm companions, she turned and loped inland, her stride eating the distance between beach and forest with effortless grace. The dense greenery swallowed her, the temperature dropping instantly in the verdant shade. Vines became her ladder, thick branches her highway. She traveled through the canopy, a golden ghost flitting between worlds, until the familiar, cleared land of the mission came into view.
The Mission of Saint Francis was a humble collection of whitewashed buildings nestled in a clearing, a stubborn outpost of order against the relentless chaos of the jungle. The hum of a generator mingled with the distant chatter of colobus monkeys. Chickens pecked in the dusty yard, scattering as Tarzan dropped from a high kapok tree and landed silently at the edge of the compound.
She paused for a moment, a creature of pure wildness observing the strange rituals of civilization. Then she walked forward, her steps losing their predatory silence, becoming more deliberate, more… human.TARZANN -The Last Law of the Wild- 01: http://memberslogin.hipcomix.com/gallery3/index.php/Mitru/Tarzann/The-Last-Law-of-the-Wild Read on... ONLY in HIPcomix.com
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