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

The Ghost [IV]

The mouth of the river was babbling as per usual, its rapids churning against the jagged rocks beneath its surface. The clouds had returned and were now allowing a fine mist to fall upon the Oasis, although the sun peeped through on the rare occasion, bringing a warm touch of honey to the wood. Beach pebbles skittered and clattered beneath Slate's feet, his amber depths washing over the scenery before him. An osprey chattered off in the distance, its sharp cry drifting far out over the oasis. The brute's leathery mitts flitted, making gestures that were no doubt from his own frustration. He had had nothing but trouble today, what with the human giving him a kick adding onto his eldest sibling's hostility. Pine had been doing better with thinking before he spoke, but it seemed as though he had finally cracked under pressure. Slate's tongue ran over his teeth as he gazed out across the water, the lingering taste of venison still within his mouth.

Birds warbled from up in the trees, enjoying the gentle spray that was slowly drenching the ape's thick inky grey coat. This had not been how Slate had expected his afternoon to go... not at all. "Pine... stupid mouth," he grumbled to himself, reaching up and scratching at his chin. A great hiss of hot air erupted from his nostrils, his shoulders slumping slightly. Reaching down, Slate picked up a stone and began to roll it in his hand, much like the human he had observed would with that strange pebble of her's. He had been watching her out of his own curiosity, although he attempted to justify it and convince himself it was nothing more than making sure that she was not a threat. It hadn't been until he had decided to get to the bottom of things and approach that he had really fallen into something he hadn't intended to happen. Hearing her speak that morning, watching her face change from time to time along with the tone of her vocals, it seemed as though she would change from one human being to the next. At first he had figured there was something wrong with her, watching her prance along the fallen redwood next to her nest, but as he caught on, Slate had figured out that the girl had simply been reading.

It was like any story an elder would reenact for the rest during feasts... more or less. This girl had some strange way of doing it. Stories of war nearly three years before was still told, to a point where it was practically imprinted into his brain, so what she had been doing was... refreshing to say the least. From a very young age, Pine had influenced Slate greatly. The two had been one in the same, each being the other's shadow; it wasn't until he had had a gun forced into his hands that they had began parting ways. Where Pine held an assault rifle, Slate held a spear. It wasn't ape.

Wasn't ape...

Slate turned his head as he felt his jaw for a moment longer, peering in the direction of the log off to his right. It was settled down the shore, ominously reminding him of where he had left the book. Sniffing in distaste, snout twitching. Slate suddenly pulled himself up to all fours and began to knuckle forward, heading for the log. Perhaps he could toss it in the river and rip the pages out... would the human enjoy finding the sheets littering her camp? Definitely not, but it would be very amusing. She had kicked him, so it was only right that he got back at her. Right?

It didn't take him long to clear the distance between him and the log, his gaze washing over the line of greenery not far off, being sure to check for any eyes that could secretly be watching him. With a huff, he rounded the side of the log, his attention falling upon the book that lay splayed upon the wet stones.

The book... where was the book? Not only was the worn saffron cover nowhere in sight, but the discarded pages that had created an erratic path were also missing. Slate let out a few confused pants, his tawny depths searching over the pebbles, although it was clear once he had rounded the other side of the log that the item had vanished. A frustrated growl turned into an explosion of pant-barks and he slammed his powerful fist into the pebbles beneath his feet. Slate couldn't contain the panic and anger beginning to climb up into his chest from deep within his guts. Had Pine returned before he had left the ape's home? It had to have been him; the human could not have tracked him while he had been traveling up through the trees. The pines swayed in the breeze as the rain began to pick up, falling steadily now and creating ripples across the surface of the water. A low rumble of thunder rocked through the clouds above Slate's head.