Up above, the forest's "ceiling" was a web of intertwined branches, sunlight almost blinded, fractured into thin beams that barely touched the ground.
From on high, where the air was purer and the resin scent stronger, the observer remained motionless. He was a creature whose silver fur seemed woven from the moon's own glow. His long, precise hands gripped the rough bark of a mother-tree with the familiarity of one who knew every vein in the wood.
Below him, strangeness paraded.
He tilted his head, widening his eyes to capture the motion: two smooth-skinned creatures with upright posture moved slowly, as if wounded.
One of them, the female, dragged the male. There was something wrong with the larger one's symmetry: one of its flesh branches — what humans would call an arm — had been torn away, leaving trails of blood that offended the jungle's green.
They were not claw beasts, nor those that slithered, the observer realized, his heart racing with anxious curiosity, shaped of thin skin and few hairs.
He leaped when Falazahr and Heridor grew distant.
The jump was a silver blur, a silent arc between branches that didn't even sway with his weight. He did not follow them to the shelter. Instinct pulled him back, toward the origin of the iron and crushed stone smell.
The Observer descended to the ravine's highest level, spotting a Stone-Hide near the cliff. The beast was a swamp lord, a mud master rarely challenged. But there, under the sunset, the monster was a body writhing in spasms.
The monkey approached, his feet touching the damp ground with a falling leaf's lightness. He halted two meters from the granite snout.
The Stone-Hide did not roar. It exhaled a thin mist, vapor not from heat but from an internal frost that seemed to devour its vitality. The Observer stretched out his hand but withdrew before touching the scale.
Terrified by this discovery, he turned swiftly on his heels and dashed upward, climbing through successful grips on branches. He ascended the trunk with frantic speed, his fingers finding easy holds in the trees.
He needed Mokessa. He needed the one who guarded the group's memory, the leader whose eyes had witnessed the sky change color.
- - -
The Mogushal Monkeys' shelter was a cathedral of fallen branches intertwined — gathered from the jungle and driven into the ground across several levels —, a place where the wind whispered to the wood about the primates' unity.
Mokessa sat on the largest platform, her silver fur reflecting and admiring the horizon where the sun drowned in day's end.
The monkey landed before her, breathing heavily, his chest heaving, his tail whipping the air in a threatening gesture.
—Mokessa! — The sound he emitted was a guttural click, with whistles and snaps forming his people's complex language. — I saw something by the river!
Mokessa did not move immediately. She continued gazing at the sunset, her hands crossed over her belly, as if counting the lengthening shadows.
—The world is likely full of novelties. — She replied, her voice hoarse like the scrape of two stones. — What did you witness that made you bristle this way?
—Creatures with bare skin. No fur, no scales. — He gestured with his hands, mimicking the humans' upright stance. — One carried the other. The male was broken, his arm taken by the Stone-Hide, I believe.
Mokessa turned her head slowly.
—Bare skin? — She repeated, the word revealing its strangeness. — By the river's edge? Almost no creature lives without fur, or so I've noticed. Never a single one.
—There's more, Mokessa. — The monkey drew closer, lowering his tone, as if the jungle could overhear. — The Stone-Hide did not die by tooth or claw. It lies there, dying from a burning cold. The female... she held something in her hands. A blue flame. — The primate breathed deeply and said: — That female made the Stone-Hide sick!
Mokessa froze. For the first time in many moons, the monkey noticed fear crossing the leader's face. She rose, her spine curved but still imposing, and walked to the branch's edge, gazing toward the nameless groves.
—A blue flame? — She asked, the whisper nearly fading in the wind.
—Yes. Deep sky color, Eternal Winter waters' hue!
Mokessa closed her eyes and released a sigh that seemed to carry the burden of all surrounding trees. She brought her hand to her nape, scratching the skin beneath the silver fur, a gesture of unrest that silenced the group in the lower branches.
—So soon after the world was renewed, and already tales of the great chill? — She murmured to herself, a bitter recognition crossing her features. — I hope you're not wasting my time.
—No. I want to discover who they are. And since you haven't seen anything similar… — The monkey affirmed, his eyes seeking an answer that wasn't an enigma in hers. — Could the winter have hidden them in its frosts?
Mokessa turned to him, her expression now an absolute mask of seriousness. She extended her hand and touched the young primate's forehead, a gesture of protection and warning.
—I lack knowledge of this renewed world, little one. — She said.
—Should we drive them out? — The one who had observed them bared his teeth, a reflex of territorial defense. — That blue fire… it could be dangerous to us!
Silence settled for a few seconds; they were alone there, just the two, aware of these beings' existence and the doubts arising.
—What shall we do? — He asked, his query now a thread of uncertainty.
—We will watch. — Mokessa sat again, becoming part of the shelter's silhouette against the dark sky. — We'll see how this blue flame behaves among the bare-skinned. I have a feeling that the Eternal Winter was merely a rehearsal for what's to come.