Siinji - Or, Ankūro and the City of the Golden Boughs

1

Part one
1

What appear to be,
Humble, peaceful beginnings,
Are, quite often, not.
- Rasakūn.

Wind danced and played among the tall, swaying boughs of the bamboo forest. Dragonflies flittered here and there performing the dance of unfettered nature, wings buzzing as they flew. Summer heat dried the ground as insects and spiders crawled from one place to the other, carrying leaves to their homes.

Sisū birds flew overhead, diving between the shifting bamboo, catching flies in long, thin beaks before sweeping back, up to the cloudless skies. Their long tails twitching and twisting, giving the colourful birds such agility that flies stood little chance of avoiding their fate.

A fox sniffed the undergrowth, searching for grubs, or, if it became lucky, a rat or mouse. The better to stave off its hunger for one more day. Its brush of a tail curled around its legs as it lowered itself, readying to pounce upon some unsuspecting prey, soon to become a meal for the white-furred animal.

A sound reached the sensitive ears of the fox and its entire body tensed. Its head turned towards the sound and missed the sight of the mouse skittering away, a meal lost. Turning, the fox crouched once again. Not readying to complete a hunt, this time, but to run. Bigger animals were here. Better hunters.

From up the slope of the gentle hill, a thing came crashing down, rolling over and over, collecting leaves and twigs as it tumbled, smashing against the hardy limbs of bamboo, careening away in a different direction, striking more bamboo, sending leaves floating towards the ground as the thing continued to roll.

The fox hesitated. This did not seem like a hunter. It did not seem better at anything. Curious, the fox padded closer as the thing came to a halt at the bottom of the hill, a ramshackle bundle of leaves, twigs and strange fur. A sniff told the fox exactly what had invaded its hunting grounds. A human.

Without hesitating, the fox turned and ran. Where there was one human, there were always more and humans thought nothing of killing foxes for their fur, or for fun. The fox wanted nothing to do with this creature of leaves and twigs and strange scents. Even as the fox disappeared into the undergrowth, the human began to move.

"Patrons' balls!"

-+-

Tuccé lifted himself from the soft pile of decomposing leaves, the stink of it irritating his nostrils. The filthy mulch had found its way even inside his jacket and he flicked his hands to remove the sticky decaying remains of the leaves from his fingers. Even his beard, manicured to a perfect point, had twigs within it.

Grimacing, he began to pick at the leaves and twigs that appeared glued to his clothing and then stopped. Hands scrabbled beneath the surface of the mulch as he searched for the precious thing. The thing that would earn him as much gold and silver as his imagination could picture. A thing of such great value, that, if lost, he would curse himself for eternity.

His fingers touched something more solid than the almost liquified undergrowth. Gripping it. He pulled the satchel out and clutched it to his chest. Letting loose a satisfied sigh, Tuccé fell back against the ground, closing his eyes and smoothing a hand against the surface of the bag.

Noises from above caused his eyes to snap wide. He had not escaped yet. Leaning his head back, he stared back up the slope he had fallen down, foot catching upon an errant root, hidden by this Patrons damned forest floor. It felt odd looking at the world from this angle, but he could still see the silhouettes of his pursuers, searching for him, high above.

Slipping the satchel strap over his head, he began a furious exercise of tossing the loose leaves over his body. If they saw him now, he doubted he could escape them. Them and their greedy, filthy, grasping hands trying to wrench away the prize that was his. His!