TLW

"The Craving"

Chapter One.

Decisive Journey

'I'll go on my own,' Roxton had announced this morning but Calista insisted Finzure also attend. She told
Roxton her servant was his servant and there was safety in numbers. Yet, despite the confident tone in
Calista's voice he knew her persistence disguised insecurity. She feared Roxton may not return, possibly
having been cured once again by his meddling yet knowledgeable friends. Finzure accompanied him for
insurance purposes only, to remind Roxton of his goal, and to see to it that his mistress's pet-man did not
stray. A jealous woman, she did not want to lose him to the mortal world again.

However, Calista needn't fear. Roxton had no intention of returning to his mortal life again. He belonged as a
creature of the hunt. He was alive and fulfilled and couldn't believe how much he'd missed it. Challenger, as
well meaning as he had been, did him no favors so long ago when bringing him back to such a banal existence.

Yet, there had been an eventual compensation. Marguerite.

A large half moon lit the clear night sky above as he crouched by the creek and splashed cold water over his
face and naked chest. His dark blue shirt lay beside him to be donned when he was finished cleansing.

"Why do you do this?" Finzure, who seldom spoke, asked in slightly accented English. He stood behind
Roxton, arms folded over his barrel chest, watched the hunter curiously.

Roxton glanced once over his shoulder, seriously considering the question, then gave his face one last swipe
with sodden hands. The warm night air would dry him completely before he reached his destination. "It
washes away the blood." Roxton said, bluntly. "I'm going to visit a lady and want to be presentable." ... 'But
you wouldn't understand that, would you my barbarian friend?'

They had killed a couple of apemen an hour ago and ate ravenously. Roxton wanted both he and Finzure to
be satiated and sane before approaching the treehouse. 'They're still my friends.' Roxton deliberated, 'And
for three years they were my family.' He would do all he could to save them from an ugly, brutal and untimely
death -- even if it was protection from Lord Roxton himself.

Determined, Roxton picked up his shirt and stood to his full height. He turned slowly, not quite looking at
Finzure. He was silent now, waiting for his master's orders and Roxton felt an iota of contempt for he and
Calista's slave, for his loyalty without question. Perhaps, because he was a born hunter, Roxton felt the
barbarian, also a man of skill, had given up his independence far too easily to his dark mistress. Or had he?
What brought Finzure to this end? Had he once been the same as the man he now served?

"Do you still bare us a grudge, master?" Finzure asked.

"For what?" Roxton pulled on his shirt and buttoned the front.

"Killing your men and capturing you."

"I'm past caring about that." Roxton replied, staring straight ahead, walking now, watching and listening to
night sounds, as they continued down the rugged path. Yet, in defiance of his words, he could not stop
thinking about it or the events before the Zanga slaughter, even as he now concentrated on the trek they
were taking to the treehouse.

Assai and her spouse, Jarl, from the Zanga tribe had come to he and the other treehouse inhabitance a little
more than a week ago. It was a friendly visit. They had dinner together and, just before the couple were
ready to leave, Jarl spoke of neighboring tribes and a new discovery. He said many warriors were telling
tales of a previously unexplored section of the plateau that now sported some of the most exotic and
dangerous wildlife they had ever seen. Jarl and several of the Zanga men were going on a hunting expedition
and wondered if any of the explorers would be interested in attending.

Marguerite had instantly looked over at Roxton, a small smile up-turning her full lips. She could tell by the
excited gleam in his eyes that Lord John was more than interested. His birthday was only a couple weeks
away. It might be a nice gift, she thought. "How long will it be?" Marguerite asked.

"We leave in two days." Jarl said, "We will be gone for one week."

"A week." Roxton had murmured, considering. "What do you think, Marguerite?" he asked with a knowing
grin. She hated hunting but they had talked about getting away together for an adventure and, perhaps, a bit
of romance. This would be ideal.

"Do you really want to go?" she asked, semi-teasing, knowing his answer.

"Yes. And you?"

Before Marguerite could reply Jarl spoke quickly and resolutely: "Men only."

Stunned, both Veronica and Marguerite looked at Jarl then to his uncomfortable wife.

"Tradition amongst the Zanga." Assai murmured, appearing none too happy with the archaic custom herself.
"The first hunt in new territory is done by men only. It's considered terrible luck if a female is in
attendance."

"That's ridiculous." Veronica stated, placing perturbed hands on her hips.

Marguerite looked from Jarl, angered, to the disappointed expression on Roxton's face. Something about his
regret touched her. She could read Roxton quite well these days and knew, before he imparted the words,
what he would say.

"Well then, it's out of the question for me as well." Roxton spoke with forced bravado, obviously
disheartened despite the resolute expression.

Marguerite knew it was killing him. They hadn't done any extended exploring on the plateau in weeks and he
was just itching for a new experience. With sigh, Marguerite closed her eyes. She was about to commit to a
selfless act but the others didn't need to know it. "Oh please, like I really *want* to go hunting." she heard
herself say, "Don't be silly, Roxton. Go with my blessing and have a good time."

"Are you sure?" he asked, studying Marguerite's expression, uncertain. Was she being her exasperatingly
sarcastic self or was this a kindness? "I really shouldn't go, just on principle."

"Go." she insisted, "It'll be nice to have a little peace and quiet around here for a change." However,
Marguerite could not quite look him in the eye.

"If it is a new area." Challenger encouraged, drinking a cup of tepid tea from where he stood. "You might
find a way off the plateau while hunting, John."

Marguerite struggled to smile, "It could end up being beneficial for all of us."

Malone, just recently back from his own months long, one-man exploration, nodded. "She has a good point. If
Challenger and I weren't working on the windmill we'd go with you." he said.

Roxton looked from the nodding Veronica back to Marguerite who was trying hard to appear as if it didn't
matter one way or the other to her. But it did. He was one of the few people who could see through the
facade. They would be parted for a week and he would be facing dangers alone, without her or any of his
treehouse companions. She didn't like it but understood this was something he needed to do. Perhaps he
would find a way off the plateau this time.

The following day, after breakfast, when Roxton was preparing to part from his friends, he held Marguerite
in his arms on the balcony and whispered in her ear: "I'll try to bring something back for you. I might find a
pretty jewel for your collection."

"That would be lovely." She hugged him tighter, her hands to the back of his head, touching his hair. "But
more than that ... just bring yourself home."

How things had changed since that time trapped in the Druid cave over a month ago. She had given herself to
him, body and soul. Marguerite had admitted her love for him ... but she was still the Marguerite he'd fallen
for. She was still his lady of fire and steel. She was not to be denied and she would fight anyone, including her
lover, if they disagreed with what she held dear. And this, probably more than any other reason, was why
Roxton was delighted with the knowledge that Marguerite meant what she had just said. She genuinely prized
him above her baubles.

He had never been more in love with her than he was at this moment.

***

"Going to bed, Marguerite?" Challenger asked from behind. He was standing next to their dinner area table
and was preparing to douse the oil lamp he had been using to read with.

Marguerite stood on the balcony, leaning gently over the railing, allowing the cool night breeze to buffet her
face. "Yes, George. In a minute. Goodnight." She looked out into the darkened jungle and sighed. Roxton
had been away for three days now and she missed him terribly. It was never the same when he was gone. Of
course, she wouldn't tell him that to his face. As a matter of fact, when he returned Marguerite had decided
to rebuff him, telling the mighty hunter that she couldn't recall when a week on the plateau had passed so
quickly and peacefully. 'He will see right through me.' Marguerite pondered with a small, affection smile. 'He
always does.' But it was a game they were used to playing and, in his heart, Roxton knew how much she
longed for his return.

With another sigh, Marguerite closed her eyes and her smile drooped ever so slightly. "Come home soon,
John." she whispered to the night air. Marguerite then turned around and carefully, in the dark, made her
way to her bedroom.

***

Roxton had been watching her intently from below. He marveled, as he had done on so many occasions, in
the way the moon-glow highlighted and softened Marguerite's physical beauty. Even from a distance she
stirred his blood ...

"She will make an exquisite creature of the night."

Roxton heard a voice in his head and realized, all at once, that it was Calista. Somehow she was seeing what
he was seeing and she had mentally linked with him in some mysterious way. It was an intrusion Roxton was
not pleased with but, even annoyed, he had to agree.

He glanced at Finzure who stood beside him. "Stay here." he ordered.

Deliberately, Roxton entered through the perimeter fence, knowing how to get past the electrical current. He
glanced once at the elevator, seeming to wait for him at the trunk's bottom, but knew this would not do. The
noise would only awaken the others.

Resolutely, with the skill of a driven wildcat, Roxton quickly climbed the tree then, silently, touched foot onto
the balcony. His senses told him all was at peace. Everyone was unaware and asleep. He then fully entered
what was once his own home and cautiously moved to Marguerite's room ...

****