SexyFighters.com

[Tsavo]

So I'm reposting the "Somewhere To Help You Sleep" story. Before writing part four I actually edited the past three pretty heavily. That is why I'm posting the whole thing here instead of resurrecting the old one. If I continue the series it will skip to Tsavo's first introduction to Bon Bon. I'll eventually have to figure out what kind of job he'd take up there.
_________________
Owner of the Lion's Den Pub.
Tsavo's story:
Somewhere to Help You Sleep

[Tsavo]

Part 1

“This should cover the damages,” Tsavo said as he passed over a handful of bills. “I really am sorry.” It didn’t seem possible, but the large framed lion looked sheepish about the whole situation. The woman at the hotel’s front desk was obviously aware of the state Tsavo had left his room in. Rumors of shredded bedding were already floating around the staff. He could see although the expression on her face was pleasant, there was fear hiding behind it. She was a tiny ferret and he loomed over her like a giant. It was well hidden, but the little ferret was shaking in his presence. He forgot that when added together his size, muscular build, and the jagged scar that started above his right eye and moved down to his jaw tended to make an intimidating package. There weren’t many hotels worth staying at in Matadi, so the last thing he wanted to do was find that he was no longer welcome in this one.

Matadi is a small coastal port near the Congo River; an area Tsavo had gotten to know too well in the past year. Amid all the warlords and blood shed the railroad had decided to try to tame part of the jungle. Workers to build the line had just started trickling in, but soon it would be flood. Tsavo took it as the perfect time to start selling his services elsewhere. After eleven years in the British Army and almost three years wandering on his own he knew when it was time to leave. He had been too good on the battlefield; the army had awarded him by shipping him from warzone to warzone. Even when he was finally on his own he found himself working as a body guard, security force, or some other position that required him to know how to fight.

He walked away from the front counter and over to the open air bar attached to the hotel. The air was more like walking through hot soup. It left you damp and somewhat sticky. There was bug netting around the open windows to keep the swarms of flies away. Thousands of the things flew together forming clouds of black specks. Across the sitting area was an aging wolf trying to looking dignified in a sand colored suit. He was an American doctor that had been in the area even longer then Tsavo. Three months ago it would have been odd to find an American and a member of the British Empire in a remote African village, but Matadi was becoming more and more diverse.

Tsavo walked over, running a hand over his head as he walked. Unlike most lions, the famous dark mane was non-existent on him. He wasn’t bald, he still had gold fur covering his head he just lacked a mane. It was a common trait in lions from the Tsavo region; it was how he had gotten the nickname Tsavo. He did have a growth of the darker fur at the end of his chin; he grew it long and let it hang down in two thin braids. Unlike the doctor, he wasn’t dressing to impress, he was dressing to deal with the heat. A sturdy pair of boots, pants, and an undershirt was enough. There was a rather large boot knife strapped to his lower leg, he tended not to carry a gun unless it was necessary. He had a duffle bag thrown over his shoulder, it contained everything he owned.

“Paying off last night’s damages?” the doctor said as Tsavo sat down at the table.

Tsavo’s eyes narrowed, “How did you know I had a problem last night?”

“My room was next to yours. My dear boy, if you start roaring like your tail is lit on fire at three in the morning I’m afraid everyone in the hotel knows it.”

“I guess so Doc.” Tsavo had an issue called night terrors, although he was ashamed of the condition and tried to avoid the subject as much as possible. He had admitted to the doctor that he regularly dreamed of the things he had seen during the Anglo-Zulu and Third Burmese wars. Things that caused him to thrash in his sleep and sometimes roar.

The doctor was on a humanitarian mission, dedicating himself to helping the tribes in the area. Tsavo had been employed as his protection for the past ten months and had opened up more to the older wolf then he had to anyone in years. Doctor Zebidiah Grey had been a medic in the America’s Civil War. He had seen his share of horror, which made it a little easier to relate to him. “Tsavo, you really need to stop running from this. It isn’t going to get better until you face it.”

“I don’t run,” Tsavo almost snarled back, and in the literal sense that was true. Even the night before, the last real night he was under the doctor’s employ Tsavo had to face down three men trying to steal a shipment of medicine. Tsavo didn’t even flinch when they initially attacked. Instead he left two of them gutted on the docks while the third ran away holding the shredded remains of a left arm in its socket.

The doctor laughed at the reaction. “You don’t run from a fight no, that much is certain. But you run from other things. Otherwise you wouldn’t be in this godforsaken place. You already said you were going to leave the Congo. Do you know where you are going next?”

“Not really, I was going to try and catch a ride on what ever ship was leaving today.”

“I want you to go someplace for me.”

“Where?” Tsavo asked suspiciously.

“You need to get out of this bloodshed. Africa, China, India, and Burma; you managed to find the worst places in each of them. You need to find someplace nice. I’ve already written you instructions on how to get there, but I want you to go to a village called Bon Bon. I’ve already booked the first part of your journey for you, consider it a bonus for the work you’ve done for me.”

“Why should I go there?” Tsavo asked as he took the handful of papers, maps, and steamer tickets that the doctor handed him.

“It’s a peaceful village. You can relax there. I spent some time there after the war. You’ll probably be the first person to ever go there because they wanted to sleep though.” The doctor chuckled at his own joke, Tsavo wouldn’t find out why it was funny until he actually reached Bon Bon.
_________________
Owner of the Lion's Den Pub.
Tsavo's story:
Somewhere to Help You Sleep

[Tsavo]

Part 2

The steamer Dr. Grey had booked Tsavo passage on already looked ancient from the misuse and abuses the crew and elements had heaped on it. Its captain was a Wildebeest as battered and rough as his beloved ship. He was twenty years Tsavo’s senior and had no time for niceties or conversation. He barked orders and grunted responses. He worked everybody on the ship as hard as he himself worked and held his crew to the highest of standards. His name was Captain Jama and Tsavo had taken an almost instant liking to him.

Although Tsavo was booked to travel on the steamer, it wasn’t built for passenger accommodations. Within the first hour Tsavo had been aboard the Captain had given him a number of tasks to do. The big lion could have argued against the workload, stood firm that whatever price Dr. Grey had paid was enough to ensure Tsavo’s place aboard the ship. Instead Tsavo nodded quietly and set upon the labor. It was hard work, the steamer made numerous stops as it moved up the coast, loading and unloading crates of supplies at every port. He kept to himself; the crew was mostly African and distrusted his British accent even if they appreciated his muscle. Once the problem with his night time outbursts became known, he was given an even wider berth.

It was about halfway through the steamer’s voyage that the boiler blew under the constant use and needed repairs. The Captain managed to get the ship into a port on the Ivory Coast, but it was one that they hadn’t planned on stopping in, so it was virtually unknown to the crew. It was a very European looking area, walled and fortified. There were a number of large houses, then smaller long buildings. Outside of the walls were shacks and banana trees as far as Tsavo could see. The Captain was the first to step off onto the dock; he was greeted in French by a well dressed boar flanked by two armed badgers. After discussing something Captain Jama looked over his shoulder and yelled back to the ship. “Tsavo, you show Mr. Henri around the ship. He thinks we have brought guns here.” The Captain’s voice was heavy with contempt.

Henri wanted to see every inch of the ship and Tsavo dutifully showed it to him. Once the inspection was completed Tsavo lead the boar back to Captain Jama. Tsavo was headed back to the steamer when Captain Jama’s voice rang out. “Tsavo, grab your things. Mr. Henri as wants you up at the state house tonight.

Tsavo raised a scarred eyebrow in confusion, “Captain?”

The Captain closed the distance and spoke in a hushed voice. “The Frenchman apparently wants a Britt’s company tonight.”

“I’d rather stay aboard the ship,” Tsavo replied quietly.

“Nonsense,” Jama spat, “Go eat their food and drink their wine. You’re not going to fix my boiler so you’re better off out of the way.”

Tsavo nodded silently and in ten minutes he was being led to the largest of the houses by the badgers. Even growing up he had never seen such opulence as the house before him. The boar was waiting for him on the covered porch, adjusting the front of his suit jacket as Tsavo arrived. He smiled as Tsavo approached. “Excellent. Follow me my good man.” Henri led him through a maze of elaborately decorated hallways festooned with paintings. Finally he was led to a bedroom larger then the entire steamer crew’s bunk area. “This will be your room tonight; I hope you find it to your liking.”

Tsavo looked at the ornate iron bed frame. It had large posts to hold the canopy of mosquito netting above it. The bedding itself was as lavish as the rest of the house. Tsavo imagined the thick comforter and overstuffed pillows shredded by claws and winced; he’d be sleeping on the floor tonight he decided. Henri then opened a set of double doors and revealed a gleaming bathroom. A polished bathtub was centered in the room and it was already filled with steaming hot water. As Henri left the room Tsavo undressed and slipped into the tub.

The hot water instantly put him at ease, his muscles finally getting to relax after the continuous strain from working on the steamer. He let his head lean back against the tub and closed his eyes. He was almost asleep when he heard a splash and the cooling water suddenly heated again. His eyes snapped open and a tiny gazelle was standing over him empty a bucket of hot water into the tub. She looked young, still in her teens and was wearing a plain servant’s dress. She flinched when she saw him looking at her and she quickly grabbed the clothing he had left scattered on the floor. “I…I am sorry. I’ll have your clothes cleaned now sir.”

“Sorry? What are you sorry for?” Tsavo’s question remained unanswered as the girl all but ran out of the room. There were towels and a robe sitting next to the tub, but Tsavo thought to himself it would be selfish to get out now, just as fresh hot water had been added.

When he finally did get out of the tub there were clothes laid out for him for dinner. They were far more formal then he was used to wearing, but all of his other clothes had disappeared. He assumed the small girl from before had taken them to be cleaned. Moments after he buttoned the dinner jacket there was a quiet knock on the door. When he opened it the servant girl was there, her gaze directed to the floor. “I’m to lead you to dinner if you are ready sir; if you are ready.”

Again he was lead through the lavish home until he reached a dining hall. There were candles burning on the long table, although the majority of the room’s light was provided by an extravagant gas chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Tsavo was introduced to seven other French men and women, all dressed in their splendor. The entire room felt alien to him and in his unease he became even more quiet and withdrawn then normal. Dinner began and slowly moved through course after course. Tsavo had almost gotten used to the meager rations available while at sea, now he was presented with rich soups, fresh salads, roasted meats, succulent fruits, and baked desserts. All the while a thin deer named Simone sat across from him and trying to make conversation with him. The beautiful woman’s interest in him only served to make him more conscious of how out of place he was in this setting.

As dessert plates were being picked up off the table by silent servants almost all eyes were suddenly on Tsavo. Henri started the conversation, “Tsavo, Captain Jama told me you used to be in the British Army. Is that true?”

Tsavo tried to deflect the gaze but there were eight sets of eyes watching him. Simone smiled brightly at him from across the table. “Uh, yes…for eleven years.”

“How fascinating,” a female skunk name Caroline squealed. “Have you been in battle?”

Tsavo scratched at his jaw line, the scar ending there itched anytime he though about it. “A few times M’am.”

“Ooo, tell us about it,” said another of the party goers.

Henri laughed loudly. “The way I hear it you’re a veteran of numerous wars here and in Burma.”

Tsavo’s eyes narrowed as people at the table “ooh”ed and “aww”ed. “Is that true?” asked a male fox by the name of Luc.

“It’s true. I don’t really like to talk about it.”

“Come now my boy,” Henri started. “You should be proud. We know what it is like; we deal with savages the same like every day.”

“Indeed,” added Luc. “The Mandinka are still a problem to this very plantation.”

“Which is one of the reasons I asked our guest here tonight,” Henri continued.

Tsavo suddenly found his mouth opened in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“I’d like you to stay on at the plantation. While we are in French territory, it has not been…easy. There is still a number of the native population that doesn’t understand our sovereignty.”

“I’m not really sure I could help you in that,” Tsavo protested.

“You don’t last that long in combat and not know what you’re doing.” Henri pointed at Tsavo with a coffee cup before taking a sip. “You could help the soldiers we have here, your experience would come in handy.”

“Really I don’t…”

“And you would be rewarded greatly.” Just as Henri mentioned rewards Tsavo felt something brushing against his leg. Starting low and working its way up. His eyes looked around quickly, falling on Simone. She winked slyly when she noticed his attention.

“I’m due out in the morning as soon as our boiler is fixed.”

“You have more loyalty to that Captain Jama? Really? He is beneath you; I was shamed to see you taking orders from him.”

Tsavo held back a growl. This type of hubris in Colonials wasn’t new to him. Tsavo had seen what was inside of men and women; and had it splashed across his face. Death came for everyone like a great equalizer. He’d seen men who days before were mortal enemies holding onto each other seconds before death because they didn’t want to face it alone. He’d seen fine European soldiers turn coward and lowly villagers step up and be heroic. His days of killing for someone else’s cause were over and this gilded house had plans on dragging him back in. He pushed himself away from Simone’s exploring foot and the rest of the table. “I’m sorry for the rudeness. I need to think this over. I’ll…I’ll be in my room.” He left the dining hall awash in whispers.

His clothes were neatly folded on the bed and he quickly shed the dress suit and began getting changed back into something more comfortable. Outside there was a sudden report of rifles and yelling. Half dressed Tsavo looked out the giant window his room was adorned with and saw muzzle flashes coming from the guard walls. He wondered how often they were attacked. He shoved the rest of his now clean clothes back into his duffel bag and returned to the window. He was on the second story of the three story plantation house. The window slid open without a sound and then Tsavo leaped to the ground below. There was a thud upon impact and he rolled just as he made contact with the ground. The docks weren’t far, even in the darkness. The sounds of gunfire and men yelling orders still echoed through the air.

He ran hard, eager to put the French plantation behind him; but he slowed as the docks came into view. The steamer he had arrived on was no where to be seen. His shoulders slumped in defeat. There were sounds of movement coming from behind him and he swung around and narrowed his eyes. In the shadows he could barely make out a small form coming towards him. Tsavo reached down and grabbed his boot knife in a fluid motion. The object kept moving and as it got closer he saw the small servant girl from earlier. In her arms was a large satchel that was so heavy it threw her off balance. He waited till she closed the rest of the distance between them. Finally she spoke between labored breaths. “Henri had the soldiers fire on your ship.”

“What?”

“He wanted to chase them away to strand you here, but I have a way to escape if you take me with you. Please, follow me.”

The girl led him to another boat, not a steamer but a small sail boat that would get them down the coast. She dropped the satchel into the boat; its cover dropping open and showing all the provisions she had stolen from the house. Next to that were large jugs of what Tsavo guessed was fresh water. She smiled up to him in the darkness. Just then another gunshot echoed through the air louder then those that had become a constant backdrop to the night. The small gazelle crumpled to the ground as a spray of red erupted from her chest. Tsavo’s eyes moved to the still smoking barrel of a rifle a few feet from the start of the dock.

Henri stood there shaking his head. “The second you turn your back on them they steal from you and try to run away. You see that now don’t you? You’ve been with them too long, come back to us.”

Tsavo was still holding his knife in his hand and his grip tightened on the handle. His thumb rested on the pommel, the blade pointing down from his fist. The girl at his feet had already stopped breathing. Henri had the gun pointed at the ground. There was a deep breath before he moved. Tsavo bent his knees and then launched himself into a run. His roar was louder then any of the gunshots that night. Henri’s eyes went wide; he tried to defend himself but fumbled his weapon and shot into the dirt. “You’re one of us!” Henri yelled. The knife came up low and slid across Henri’s throat; throwing a line of ruby droplets into the air. There was a gurgling sound as blood bubbled at his neck. Tsavo brought his knife down onto Henri’s chest with three hard blows. Repeatedly the blade sank deep into the boar’s heart. Henri’s hands gripped onto Tsavo’s shirt, while he could no longer talk the boar’s eyes pleaded to Tsavo. The hands kept their grip as the body dropped to its knees. Finally his hands fell away and Henri’s corpse collapsed in the dirt.

Tsavo scanned the rest of the area to see if there was anyone else hiding in the shadows but he was alone with the dead. He cleaned his knife, returned it to its sheath, and walked back onto the dock. He brushed the hair out of the servant girl’s vacant eyes and tried to hold back tears that were starting to pool up. Now that he got a good look at her she was even younger then he had thought. There was still fighting at the gates and as Tsavo stepped into the boat he wished those on the other side of the walls luck. He untied the boat and pushed off from the docks. Grabbing the sail’s rigging Tsavo worked at putting the plantation as far behind him as possible.
_________________
Owner of the Lion's Den Pub.
Tsavo's story:
Somewhere to Help You Sleep

[Tsavo]

Part 3

In the days following his retreat from the French compound Tsavo had an enormous amount of time to explore the sailboat that the servant girl had prepared. The amount of items secured led Tsavo to believe that she had been planning the escape for some time. There were four large jugs of fresh water, a sack full of jerky, and another large sack with hardtack. In addition to that were four pillow cases filled with jewelry and other assorted finery. As soon as he found himself in a large enough port he could turn those pillowcases into money. They had thrown a bag of fresh food in the boat just before leaving, so for the first few days at sea Tsavo was able to indulge.

He followed the coastline, keeping the beaches either in sight or just a few minutes from sight. The boat was fine for moving around the coast, but he was looking for a larger port where he could book passage to Italy or at least the next leg of his trip. The days seemed to drag on in a salty, sun filled monotony. After a week his fresh water was starting to get low in the last remaining jug. Tsavo had guessed he would have found a place to replenish his supplies but it was actually four additional days after that before he saw the outlines of buildings.

It took him the better part of an hour to reach shore and pull his boat far enough onto the sand that it wouldn’t drift back out to sea without him in it. His eyes kept moving up to the village, expecting some kind of greeting; but none came. Finally exhausted from the workout he began moving up to the village. There were five buildings; the largest one was the closest and looked to have been gutted by a fire. A stillness filled the air and an uneasy quiet hushed the ambient bird noises that rose out of the jungle. As Tsavo got closer he recognized the burnt building was a church, or at least it had been. He took a deep breath and pushed past the church and into the village square. There were large cooking pits in the middle of the village, but those fires had long burned out from the look of them. The place looked deserted.

Tsavo stepped into the closest intact building and was plunged into a cloud of flies. There was a steady hum of the insects, loud enough to cover up the sound of his footfalls. The building was small, it consisted of little more then someone’s living quarters. There was a desk, a steamer trunk, and a bed. A large bible sat on the desk, a gold cross hung above the bed, and a priest’s clothes were folded and placed on the trunk. Laying half on the bed and half on the floor was the corpse of German Shepard. He was still dressed in long pajamas, once white now splattered with gore. The stench was enough to make Tsavo’s head spin. Still he investigated. The Shepard seemed to have been shot multiple times.

Three of the other buildings were also living quarters. Their owners had been shot just as the priest had. One of them, a female cat with fur the color of fresh snow was still under the sheets of the bed. She probably hadn’t even woken up before she was shot. The last building was more of a supply room. The insides hadn’t been touched by who ever was responsible for the villager’s deaths. The people here weren’t shot for money or supplies; they were shot because someone just wanted them dead. Even while staring at the shelves of food he couldn’t bring himself to be hungry again. Although he did pull down the things he’d be able to take with him on his boat. He left the food for the time being, grabbed a shovel, and stepped back into the village square.

He moved outside the village to a bare area of land. Tsavo looked deep into the jungle, but the village’s assailants had long ago disappeared back into the thick wall of trees and underbrush. The shovel slid into ground with a “shunkt” sound. The day was hot and the sun became his enemy, but Tsavo continued to work the earth. The sun began to sink and the ocean brought in a cool breeze. In the moonlight Tsavo stood over four graves. He lowered each body into their individual grave with the greatest of care and then entombed them in the earth. Crude wooden crosses were planted at the head of each burial place. Dawn was just starting to break as he finished; the sky a bright crimson. He considered saying some kind of prayer, it only seemed right, but his mouth couldn’t form the right words.

After working all night he disappeared in the shade of the burned out church and fell asleep on the floor. There were four beds for him to choose from, but after pulling bodies from them they didn’t make appealing sleep choices. His slumber was filled with visions of the village’s final days, unnamed attackers shooting in the middle of the night. The faces swirled and mixed with those he had seen on the field of battle. There was a flash of one of his best friends, laying on the ground and bleeding hard from his head. Tsavo awoke with a roar that sent the nearby birds airborne with fear. He was panting and covered in sweat. As he calmed himself he realized he had slept the whole day and it was already starting to get dark.

He used the well to refill his water jugs. He filled his boat with the supplies he could use out at sea. He looked back at the hollow buildings one more time before pushing his boat back into the ocean. The empty and broken church seemed to speak to him somehow as if they had kind of deep kinship. He said one more silent goodbye, slid back into the ocean, and continued on his trip north.
_________________
Owner of the Lion's Den Pub.
Tsavo's story:
Somewhere to Help You Sleep

[Tsavo]

Part 4

Tsavo had been in Tangiers for a total of three days. In that time he was able to sell the stolen goods from his boat’s hold. Combined with his own possessions he was now wealthier then he had ever been before. Finally surrounded by civilization he had all of his clothes out to be laundered and bought something new to wear while that cleaning was going on. The first hot bath he had in over a month seemed to dislodge pounds of salt from his fur. It was an assault to the senses walking down crowded streets after being adrift on ocean waves for so long. His time alone had made him even more reluctant to speak to the point where there was actual hesitation before going up the numerous vendors he had to deal with.

He was now wearing a pair of loose fitting black pants and a high collared grey button up shirt; an almost monochromatic recreation of the uniform he wore during the Boer War. His feet clenched inside the confines of a new pair of black boots. It was mid-afternoon when he had found a small bar that was located just outside a very British area of town. There wasn’t a British Embassy in Tangier, it was located further southwest in Rabat. Still the crown had numerous interests in the port town and an entire English borough had formed. It was on the outskirts of that area that Tsavo was recognized in that very small bar where people normally go when they don’t want to be recognized.

He heard the voice from over his shoulder before he had noticed its owner. “By god, it’s Tsavo.” When he turned to find the speaker he saw a thin, red squirrel dressed in clothing far to nice for the kind of bar they were in. The squirrel’s ears came to sharp, fuzzy points that he couldn’t keep his hands off while he talked. If you didn’t count the ears he was almost a foot shorter then the lion. Tsavo knew him; his name was Charles Gage and he was involved with British Intelligence. Gage smiled wide and placed a hand on Tsavo’s shoulder. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

Tsavo knew that tone, he had heard it before. The squirrel wanted something and when Gage wanted something it usually meant someone else’s hands were going to get bloody. He wasn’t to be trusted, he spun lies faster then spiders spin webs. Tsavo sipped his beer and then quietly mumbled, “I’m not working for you Charles. Consider me retired.”

Charles’ right hand tugged the fur on his right ear into place. His eye went wide. “Tsavo, you wound me sir, really, right in the heart. You haven’t even heard what I had in mind. Besides all that, you wouldn’t turn your back on the crown would you?”

“It’s too late Charles; I’m leaving Tangiers in the morning. There is nothing you can say to change that?”

“Really? What if I told you I know who killed the Colonel?”

While there were numerous Colonels in the British Army the way it was brought up in conversation Tsavo knew it meant his father. The shock of finding out his father was dead dropped Tsavo’s guard for a moment. “The Colonel is dead?”

Charles lowered his head and shook it slowly from side to side. “My boy, I’m sorry to tell you that way. I was sure you would have already known. He was shot in the back by a man named Jacob Dunn; a coward of a man who just happens to be in Tangiers right now. I’ve been looking for the right person to help me retrieve him and now you’ve walked in.”

Tsavo turned slowly to the door. He knew he was still in a crowded, noisy bar but to his senses everything had just become deathly quiet. He could feel Charles’ hand falling off his shoulder as he walked away. He could faintly hear the squirrel calling his name as he left the bar, but he didn’t look back. Tsavo and his father were never close. Most of his youth was spent in boarding schools of the military variety. His father was always a stern figure overlooking his actions. There was no warmth in the man; he commanded respect not love. Tsavo hadn’t even seen or heard from him in over five years. And yet with the knowledge of his death Tsavo felt like he was in some kind of fugue state.

He returned to his hotel and because he didn’t know what else to do he found himself laying on his bed. His dreams were full of the old lion towering over him as if he were still a child. His father’s face locked in that disapproving look he had seen so many times. Things seemed to move in a blur; flashes of childhood assaulted him until he found himself in a more familiar dreamscape. He was again on the battlefield. Unlike his normal dreams he wasn’t confronted with the horrors of what he had seen. He was shoulder to shoulder with his father as they shot rifles at some unseen enemy. While Tsavo may have thought the Colonel was a subpar father, he was an excellent commander. They fought for what seemed like forever until a bullet and pierced his father’s chest. The body hit the ground hard; now looking older then Tsavo had ever seen the Colonel. The Colonel looked up and smiled wide at Tsavo, he was about to say something when the younger lion opened his eyes and realized it was already morning.

Tsavo quickly gathered his things and made for the docks. He wasn’t late, but he didn’t want to be in Tangiers any longer then he had to. The ship leaving for Italy would be departing within the next two hours. As he raced through the crowded streets and reached the docks he saw a familiar shape waiting for him. Tsavo growled at the squirrel, “How did you find me?”

Charles smiled wide, “You booked passage under the name Tommy Atkins, and really who else could it be?” Tommy Atkins was a slang term for a British soldier. “Look, I know you were upset yesterday; understandably so. That is why I’m here to give you a second chance.”

Tsavo looked over Gage’s head and saw the ship he was booked on was still loading cargo. It would be a little while before it headed off to sea. The dream had somehow let Tsavo come to terms with his father’s passing. He look down at the little squirrel and shook his head. “No thanks Charles, I told you I didn’t want any part of it.”

Charles shook his head as he preened his ears. “Tsavo, Tsavo, Tsavo, I don’t expect you to know this, but my position in Intelligence has grown since the last time you’ve done a job for me. Turning me down would be very bad for you.” The squirrel’s words were hushed so those walking past might not hear them, but Tsavo caught the full impact of each word.

The lion’s eyes narrowed, he gave a quick glance to each side and then looked over the squirrel. In the past Charles had lied about a good many things to get a job done; now he was even threatening. Tsavo growled loudly as his arm shot out and grabbed Charles by the through. Two small squirrel hands reached around the one lion hand, trying to pry it away from Charles’ throat. Tsavo pressed his face close. “You’d threaten me now Gage? Do you want me to gut you right here on this dock? Let the fish eat your entrails out of the water?”

Charles could barely breathe; his eyes were wide with fear. The smugness had disappeared completely. “Tsavo, don’t do anything you’ll regret here. I mean of course I wouldn’t threaten you.”

“Tell me about the Colonel. Is he really gone? Did Dunn have anything to do with it? Thing before you talk Gage, cause if I find out you’re lying to me.” He left the threat unfinished, but Charles was able to see the numerous planned tortures in Tsavo’s eyes.

“No, the Colonel is dead, but Dunn didn’t have anything to do with it. There was a small skirmish in South Africa. I...”

Before Charles could finish he was hurled off the dock. The squirrel’s body slammed into the side of a fishing boat and then fell into the icy water below. He was stunned, bruised, and very wet but he’d live. Tsavo picked his duffel bag up off the dock and continued onto his ship. There were no backward glances as he left. He was ready to move forward on his trip. He hoped the trip through Italy would go smoother then his exit from Africa.
_________________
Owner of the Lion's Den Pub.
Tsavo's story:
Somewhere to Help You Sleep