Not Like You (The Simian Forest Saga: Vol. I)

The Secret [III]

Humans hadn't been seen on this land for ages. It had been suspected that there were small groups scattered here and there, but the sightings were beginning to become more infrequent.. Slate had returned to the tribe's home near the opposite end of the lake, traveling along the pebbles with his spear in hand. He mulled over the item he carried, the pages fluttering in the wind and crumpled in some places. They were so delicate, so how could she even stand using this thing? Never had he seen such a weird way of reading. Sure, he had learned small words before-- he had learned the alphabet like any white-tail had in their childhood. These words were clumped together and made no sense. Apes never associated themselves with human things. Slate came to his knuckles and then crouched, leaning back on a large piece of driftwood.

Not far, apes made their new home, up toward the mouth of the river where it bled out into the lake. Salvation had come at last, it seemed, but not without a cost. After Caesar's death, this had left them without a leader, and ergo Rocket had risen to act as a mock king and was playing the role of Cornelius' father, the true heir. The stoic chimp had always lead with a broad fist and a stiff upper lip; this was contrasted greatly by Maurice, Caesar's advisor and the tribe's educator. The orangutan was peaceful and wise, making up for the old chimp's moments of brisk rule. Slate recalled how the orang had calmed him one day, years ago, when he and his older brother Pine had been butting heads. With these two watching over the young prince, the tribe was able to function without much trouble.

Slate thumbed through the pages, tearing out a few as he went along, nosy as to what exactly had helped her read these weird letters all in their weird formations. His tawny eyes washed over the text in front of him, his eyes narrowing. At first Slate began to piece some things together, his nose scrunching up and his lips parted in thought. That's when a pant broke the silence, the brute turning to none other than his brother. Pine was dark in colour, darker than he, a bear's tooth pierced through his left lobe. A long scar ran across his face and his ear was shredded from an assault during a hunt such a long time ago that had nearly gored him senseless. He had almost lost his brother, and although he hated to admit it, he loved him dearly. The stag had made a fantastic feast though. "Brother," he grunted. Pine gripped his sibling's wrist with a strong hand, greeting him firmly. The two knocked their spears together-- this was something they had come to develop as their own person greeting. 'You were out late again. You'll miss dinner.' The two's parents had never really been spoken about much. Although Pine and Slate had grown up as twins, as they had matured, it was very obvious the difference between them. They were close nonetheless, having many things in common.

Pine's bicoloured gaze came to fall upon the book he held, immediately suspicious. 'Just something I found,' signed Slate, shrugging and grunting. 'Figured Maurice could use it.'

Pine panted, something close to a chuckle, a smile lacing his elder brother's lips. His mood seemed to improve once more. 'Thoughtful. You aren't the type.'

Slate snorted and laughed along, bringing his hands to his mouth quickly. 'Shut up,' he signed, then reached out and gave his brother's cheek a shove. Giving the novel a toss, he left it without another thought, splayed out upon the rocky complexion on the beach. The two large males knuckled away toward the other end of the bank, where the entrance to the ape's camp was.

The two travelled for a while, stepping beneath the arch of bending trees and following a path that had been worn down by many apes coming and going from camp. The vegetation grew heavier the deeper they went, eventually coming to a fork in the road. Shuffling to the right through the fronds and bracken, the pair avoided any nettles in their path. Pine had fallen face-first into a whole clump once and his eyes had swollen up like two mushroom heads, so the two brutes preferred to stay clear. Weaving their way through the trees, they began to slowly make their way down a slight slope, the path narrowing yet still showing the way. Slate followed behind Pine, taking in the surroundings as he usually would, unlike his sibling who would simply traipse forward and only forward. The two came to a large boulder standing as proud as a barge in their path, and rounded the corner. Stick-figures hung limply from where they were tied to the lichen, giving an ominous vibe, a few occasional raven's skulls flashing ivory in the spotty sunlight. They found themselves a small clear, a few apes lounging there and conversing around a fire, some perched atop the clumps of smaller rocks. White-tails played, chasing one another bravely through the underbrush.