The human village was small and spaced out, their homes made of stone or brick, their roofs unkempt and missing shingles. Power lines streaked across the sky above, the utility poles making up for the lack of trees. Slate felt uncomfortable, although had been inside of a human city before. This one was insignificant compared to the one that Koba had overtaken. The memories were something he did not wish to recall, especially with the recent events. It was early morning and the outcross had just finished speaking with Cornelius about his behaviour perhaps an hour or so ago. Maurice was an ally he was thankful for in these situations, for sometimes the prince could become a bit... hot-headed when it came to serious discussions. He had acted out of line and just about killed his brother, which would have evidently broken their rule of "ape not kill ape." He had entered rather nervous and left ruffled and irritated by his prince's nasty choice of words.
Idiot, maniac, murder. Those words had stung him deeply.
Slate weaved his way through the littered streets, passing over old rain-beaten newspapers and scattered autumn leaves. The stale scent of gasoline filled his nose as he began to explore the closest vehicle. It was a yellow convertible, its top down and its doors either dented in or the windows damaged; its paint was scratched and rust was beginning to cluster around the rims of the wheels. Titling his head, he peered in through the gap between the window and the door, mild curiosity drawn toward a torn up wallet and a partial picture of a happy family, its colour beginning to fade from years of weathering. A young child was held upside down by his father, the man holding a rather expressive face of enthusiasm. Slate frowned. Humans were such strange creatures at times that he couldn't quite wrap his head around them. Apes aren't any different, remarked an indignant tiny voice.
The ape finally moved away, beginning to open the creaky-hinged door and prod at the shredded leather seats. Grunting under his breath, he furrowed his brow and caught a strip by one end, tugging out of mild perplexity. It was such an odd material; similar to that of deer hide, yet far from. It was too smooth and supple... and delicate. In a flurry of cushion stuffing and tan, Slate violently tugged upwards, earning a pleasing yet guttural tearing sound. Elated for but a moment, he proceeded until he had a fistful, and then tossed it into the air, allowing the wind to carry them to the tarmac just a few feet away.
Slate grew bored with exploring the vehicle, eyeing the exposed springs with little concern, and dropped back to all fours, leaning out the driver's side by one extended arm. The simian sniffed the air and then satisfied an itch on his breast before finally slipping from the car's interior. It wasn't until he caught sight of something within one of its reflective side mirrors that he paused, hold it within his sights. Just over his fuzzy shoulder, he could make out Krissa's slender frame as she held the human male's backpack up to her chest, trying to help him stuff a few pieces of clothing inside. The human's other hand held a package of water bottles-- by the looks of the plastic encasing, it had already been torn open.
In the midst of tugging it open further, he had caught her by surprise and the young woman stumbled forward a few steps, which caused him to still her with a reassuring hand and to look down into her heart-shaped face. Slate felt his belly tighten and a frown paint his apeish features, some unknown feeling creeping up his spine. He couldn't quite understand what exactly caused his organs to burn, his fur to rise and his jaw to tense, but the inky male didn't ponder upon it for too long. All Slate could feel was an intense ire, both toward human and toward himself. Eyes drifting, he finally came face to face with who he was-- quite literally.
The primate was shocked to find his own reflection staring him back in the face; he held two primitive tawny eyes that shown tangerine and liquid amber in the right light, a strong jaw and dark skinned face, his coat thick and nearly jet black. Narrowing his eyes, he brought a stray hand to his pate and gently felt the darker patchy skin up near his brow and eyelids, as well as along his muzzle. That's when it hit him-- how similar to Koba he looked, in facial structure and in the way he held himself. Without his father's slightly twisted spine, all that was left was a similar arrogance and a hollow shell.
YOU ARE READING
Not Like You (The Simian Forest Saga: Vol. I)
Adventure"The rain grew colder, the canopy enamoured and blushing even deeper shades of auburn and gold. The tension was growing and the entirety of the large ape colony knew that it would snap at a moment's notice. They were all waiting-- waiting for someth...
