A/N: Hey 'Thena! I DO love you dearly for your feedback, sweetie! As I do to The She Devil, FAT CAT, Malucciecca, Ishmaela, Doctah Milly, Cien, Becky, and everyone else who reviews my fics! Sorry it's taken me so long! Enjoy!

"Aw! Bloody bush."

"Mr. Malucci. if you don't mind?"

"Oh. Right. sorry."

John sighed. This was going to be along 'escort' back to camp.

"Will those natives really eat the meat we gave them? I mean. it looked rather questionable."

"That's because you dropped it three times on the way there and mutilated it to begin with."

"I'm sorry but I guess I don't understand. Why did you kill that buffalo when you didn't even intend to eat it?"

"It's called a sport, kid, and I was going to eat it. hell, we'd both be eating it right now if you weren't so damn slow!"

Dave glared at the famous hunter standing in front of him. "If I weren't so slow?! I've matched every one of your steps since I met you!"

John looked away and into the distance, standing next to a large acacia tree. "Yeah, sorry mate. I'm just a little tense. I need a drink, that's all." He pulled out his canteen and took a swig. "Ah," he wiped his mouth with satisfaction and extended the canteen to Dave.

Being thirsty Dave took a deep swallow. Yet instead of being met with the sweet taste of water he felt the sharp bitter taste of alcohol. "Gack!" he spat on the ground.

John chuckled. "Relax kid, it ain't gonna' kill ya."

Dave struggled to breathe. "What was that?! It was awful!"

"Awful? Awful?! That stuff happens to be heaven on earth!"

"I sure hope that heaven isn't really like that."

"Why? You plan on going there?"

"Well, I suppose so. I've tried all of my life to be a good person. although my aunt and uncle don't always think so."

"You're aunt and uncle? Where are your parents?"

'My mother's back home in England, and, I. never knew who my father was." He nearly muttered the last part.

John didn't know what to say so he changed the subject. "So, what are they like?"

Dave was clearly lost in thought. "Who?" he asked meekly.

"Your aunt and uncle? You know, the rich ones? They've go to be if they're vacationing here of all places."

"Yes. they inherited their money from my uncle's grandfather. He was an explorer, you know. Although I don't think he ever did anything that great. My uncle's a journalist and he's been all over the world."

John smiled as he saw Dave's interest peak. "Really? Has he been to Australia?"

"Well. I don't think that he's ever been to your country, but I'd love to."

"Ain't much but dirt and desert. where I'm from, at least."

"You're from the bush?"

"Yeah, you could say that."

Dave broke a stick off of a nearby bush. "What did you hunt in Australia?"

John's face was impassive. "Aborigines."


"You jus' go out there an pop 'em off. Bang! Make nice throw rugs they do."

Dave was about to lecture him on his perverse means of living when he notice the slight smile tugging at the edges of John's mouth. Dave slowly smiled, beginning to understand John's sense of humor. The two men laughed.

"So, which way's camp?"

"Uh, well, it's." Dave spun around, searching the distance. "That way," he pointed to the East.

"I hate to tell you this, but that's where we came from."

"Oh, then it's. it's." he turned around some more, trying to orient himself.

"Look, kid, if you can't tell me which way your camp is then I suggest we build a fire."

"As some sort of signal?"

"As some sort of protection. We'll sleep out here."

"Out. out here?"

"Yeah, unless you've got a better idea. No worries, the big cats don't like fire."

"But. what if. I mean, I heard about those man-eating lions in Tsavo."

"Kid, you're with a world renowned game hunter, I think you'll be safe."

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Why couldn't he face danger with courage like Natty Bumpoo?! "Don't worry. I've slept out many times before."

John looked incredulous. "You? In the African bush?"

Dave drew himself up. "Yes, of course."

John laughed, "In a tent at your camp."

Dave was about to say something impressive when he watched John's playful expression turn to one of alarm. John motioned for him to be quiet.

A small troop of natives was making its way toward them in the fading light.

Dave stepped behind the older man as he raised his rifle to his chest.

The native stopped a few paces away and uttered a few words in their native language.

"What are they saying?" Dave whispered.

"Stay back," John pushed Dave against the acacia.

This movement suddenly alarmed the natives and they leveled their spears, moving forward to press them against John's clothing. The native that Dave deduced was the leader spoke harshly to John.

"I think he wants you to put down your weapon," he whispered.

"Like hell I will," he spat through grit teeth, despite the spearheads pressed against him.

Dave looked at the natives. "I don't think we have much of a choice."

John slowly lowered his rifle. The natives roughly grabbed John and took his rifle while encircling Dave and urging the two men to walk with them.

After ten minutes of walking in near silence David Malucci IV was struck with an epiphany. "John, they're going to kill us!" Dave spoke lowly.

"You? They're not going to kill you, it's me they're after."

"John, I've read about these men in Robinson Crusoe. They're cannibals! They're going to roast us on a spitfire while the women and children of their village dance and celebrate!"

John looked at their captors. They seemed like most of the local natives, but then again, what exactly did a cannibal look like?

To his right Dave was making his own observations. The man closest to him was strong. He had large white teeth, much straighter than those of many men in England. Was that because he'd grown up in human flesh? Dave let his eyes wander to the man's necklace. Now, any same human being would be able to easily tell that the teeth strung around the native's neck were too big to belong to a man. Yet Dave had seen many large men in his life, most of all here in Africa. In his adventurous, imagining mind he had no doubt that those teeth were human teeth.

Half of his mind was racing with ideas of escape while the other half was busy formulating an eloquent speech which he would dictate before he was sacrificed by the cannibals. Yet there it was. this small part of his mind that kept nagging him. he wanted to know, what would he taste like?


(If you like this fic or My Mother's Eyes, be sure to check out my new one, Blossoms. Thanks, guys! ;) )