Dangerous Grounds

Todd Marshall moved through the dense forest, taking a short-cut to the wide river which only few white hunters would have dared. He'd located a game trail that most eyes would have missed--it was just a location where the forest was a little tangled. A huge Tawani black of his safari moved ahead of him chopping the way clear using a bush knife. About twenty five porters trailed along behind. About twelve of them carried a tusk apiece ivory.

The tusks were magnificent and huge, solid and white to the core, such as the well-known Bellville ivory was always known to be. Around this time each year the Bellville packed and sent a batch of ivory over to the coast, Thorne is the one who see to it that it is delivered safely, and then put the proceeds into the tribal funds. They were paid half in cash, and half in trade goods, and with these they purchased cows and food and other essentials from their more fortunate neighbors with better land.

The Bellville country was on a long, dry slope that climbed to a mountain range; it was not easy to locate, even harder to traverse and only white hunters like Todd Marshall had seen it. Most of Scott's incredible forest craft, as a matter of fact, had been developed with Abigale on long treks. Scott looked around him a bit, he wished the Forest Queen were alongside him right now.

It was surprisingly quiet, Scott was thinking. The rustle of the wind in the treetops had ceased; the homing parrots were no longer squawking; it seemed as if even the beetles had stopped buzzing around his shoulders and his head.