Sluts of the Savage Land update (Patreon)

Emma returned to the waking world slowly. Her first thought, surprisingly, was of Ororo. She didn't even open her eyes at first. Lazily, she held onto the comfortable dark until all her other senses had reached her.

The uncomfortable sleep had left a knotted pressure along the backs of her arms and legs and around her ribs, like a man holding her from behind. The air was cool, but it felt false, like it was caught in the moment before igniting into the blaze of dawn. The wide, black river was calm, like a great shadow cast over an already dark landscape. The sound of it was strong but quiet. Seductive in its understated immensity.

It was better now that she was used to it. Something reassuring instead of alien and threatening. And the uncertainty of the rest of her surroundings made Emma feel alive, not inconvenienced. Although she was very inconvenienced, now that she thought about it once more. But the sun felt good. Not as bright as it'd once been. And the air had come to smell rather good, with no smog or bustling crowds full of the unwashed.

The river especially smelled good, with its crisp cleanness, and then there was something else, subtly perfuming the natural scent she'd gotten used to. Over the wooden crackling of the fire… so masculine… was a note of coffee. Now that she'd scented it, it was a thick and appealing smell. Then she remembered Ororo must have made it and knew it had to be the strong thick sludge she favored.

Ororo! No wonder this jungle had seemed so pleasant; she'd forgotten about her! Probably a mental defense mechanism. How could she relax at all when knowing that woman was her only companion? The goddess, the woman who was divine instead of perfect, forever fixated on her own superiority. With anyone else, Emma could comfortably settle into being queen bee. Even Jean was smart enough to allow Emma to take center stage. It was only with Ororo that neither of them could agree who was the alpha.

Emma opened her eyes and tried to put Ororo out of her mind. Thinking of her over and over again was the kind of genuflecting mentality that came about in the jungle. She wasn't going to obsess over Ororo like one of those native men who looked forward to war as a chance to kidnap the women they couldn't seduce.

What's more, Emma suddenly remembered they were about to depart the river that had become such a friend to her. No more of that. Only that impenetrable wall of green that man could supposedly pass through.

“Good morning,” Ororo greeted her from outside the tent. The sight of her curves outlined upon the canvas was splendid, for a reminder of Ororo’s annoying beauty. “Try to ready yourself with haste. Even in this clime, the coffee won't be hot for long.”

Emma smiled viciously, not least because Ororo couldn't tell from her silhouette. She wouldn't allow Ororo could ruin her day. The mere fact of her existence was not enough to overcome Emma's fantastic confidence. She would enjoy breakfast, whatever it might be, just to show Ororo how she was too pleased by her own splendor to be affected even by Emma.

***

Emma sipped at Ororo’s strong brew, very in disbelief even minutes after Ororo had calmly explained her plan.

“To be clear,” she said, “the natives will give us an escort if first we go with them on their raid?”

“Not much of a plan, is it? More of a deal.” Ororo didn't like the idea herself, but she could still be amused by Emma's distaste for it. Everything for her was like a restaurant had substituted her favorite food with raw sewage.

“They know we don't have powers, correct? We couldn't win this fight for them even if we wanted to.”

Ororo turned away to hide her amusement. “We're status symbols, I fear. It's enough for us to be seen as associating with them.”

“Wonderful. They want our celebrity endorsement for their sex games.”

“Well, chiefly mine. They worry you might be ill with how pale you are.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh, if only I had known ahead of time, I could've sold T-shirts with your face on them.”

Ororo laughed aloud. “They would buy them, if they had money. Our presence… both of us… will give them a kind of prestige. It will be like they're honorary X-Men. A lot of their warring revolves around show ferocity instead of actually fighting. Not that they fake any of the bloodshed. Make no mistake, that’s very real. But if they can terrify the enemy by trotting us out, they’ll be able to celebrate the drama for a long time. The… vibes of the attack are worth more than what’s actually accomplished. That is, unless they’re playing a trick on them.”

“I can imagine what sort of tricks they’d play around here. Something long on gore and short on cleverness, I take it?”

“Cleverness is relative,” Ororo replied with thoughtful calm. “I’ve never seen it happen, but I’ve heard of tribal wars where one clan enlists the aid of a neighbor. The neighboring tribe invites them all to feast and dance. They all show their finery to each other, then the warring tribe lies down in the hammocks to be well-rested for the attack. Only their hosts don’t go to sleep. They wait a while, then descend on their guests with whatever weapons they have. Those who aren’t killed flee, but then are caught in the ambush of the tribe they were about to attack. It’s brutally effective. No one expects an ally to turn on them. And if they all started being suspicious of each other, their whole society would fall apart.”

Emma squirmed. “Maybe it deserves to fall apart. I want to have as little to do with these savages as possible.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow. “Then we probably shouldn’t have crashed in their territory.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Did you have a choice? Because I didn’t get a choice.”

“Our only choice is how to respond to the situation at hand.”

Emma’s expression went tense with frustration. “Meaning we need to participate in some gruesome slaughter if we want to stay alive.”

“Why Emma, usually I’d think you’d burn this whole jungle down to get out of here with your Louis Vuitton intact.”

Emma blinked coolly. “I’m an X-Man. X-Men never do anything wrong; Scott assures me so.”

“So is this newfound moral fortitude to please Scott or to prove yourself to the X-Men?”

“Bloody hell, woman, can I not simply be disgusted with random bloodletting without you thinking it uncharacteristic of me?” Emma snapped. “You’d think I went around kicking stray dogs…”

Ororo softened. Her high-toned voice became reassuring. “It’s unlikely. As I said, I’ve never seen it happen, only heard of it. All these warriors want us to do is accompany them. We’ll probably do no more than witness them save face with a bunch of bluster on both sides.”

Emma looked her in her blue eyes, reading them. Then she smiled icily. “I wonder if I hope you’re right as much as you hope you’re right.”

“I don’t want to see a mass murder any more than you do.”

“It’s good to know that’s some limit to what you’ll countenance if it puts me out of joint.” Emma hooked her thumbs behind her belt and threw her shoulders back. Her full breasts sprang outward with her arching spine and Ororo wondered if they wouldn’t pop the buttons on her straining shirt. “I’ll allow that I have no choice but to go along with this. But can you say the same?”

“By which you mean…?” Ororo began leadingly.

“These are your people—at least, far more than they are mine,” Emma added, forestalling Ororo’s retort. “You seem to have all the answers, know all the angles. You’re sure to be able to come up with a solution that I cannot. But in all your rush to respect blue hell out of these people, have you considered you’re making an enemy as well as an alliance?”

Ororo smiled knowingly and nodded. Even far from her comfort zone, Emma remained a formidable intelligence. “I have,” she allowed. “And I wouldn’t risk it if I weren’t desperate. With luck, we’ll never have to come back this way. Realistically… when the debts are called due, hopefully it will be a long time from now.”

“And we’ll be better situated to zap everyone with lightning.”

“You don’t want to hypnotize them into your usual embarrassments?” Ororo asked wryly.

Emma waved a hand through the thick, humid air. “I’d rather not touch the mind of anyone at this latitude.”

“I would think you’d like the primitive mind. Easier to control.”

“No challenge,” Emma retorted. “No juicy secrets to ferret out whatsoever.”

“I don’t know. These are small towns, really. And like all small towns, still waters run deep.”

“I don’t like visiting small towns either,” Emma huffed. “Martha’s Vineyard is my limit.”