“Who…?” Tarzan’s voice cracked the humid air. He did not know the name of this creature, but his instinct told him it was another exile.
Tarzan’s eyes widened. He remembered the old legend of the “Singing Stones”—ancient devices said to echo the thoughts of the forest. He took a step forward, his hand brushing a vine that hummed in response, sending ripples of light through the leaves. tarzan x shame of janempg best
"Then your shame is not mine." He extended a hand—calloused, scarred, patient. "But if you want to bury it here, we will dig together." “Who…
