Author's Note: To clarify, Krissa is reading aloud from Shakespeare's Macbeth.

Krissa was engrossed within the pages of old English literature, her hungry mind eating up each bit of information that she could. She would often act bits and pieces out as well whilst nose-deep in the story, simply for exercise and her own entertainment. There she stood, atop the mossy log she had used for a bench during the evening, book in on hand; the breeze caressed the skin bared by her crop top and her slender legs clearly exposed as her ragged skirts fluttered in the wind. Her voice was full of feigned terror and anguish. "Blood hath been shed ere now, i' th' olden time, /Ere humane statute purged the gentle weal; /Ay, and since too, murders have been performed /Too terrible for the ear. The time has been…" Krissa wandered down along the bark, her toes digging into the spongy surface, heels hovering over her stage. Turning, her hand fell and she began to work off book, having performed this many of times. "That, when the brains were out, the man would die, /And there an end. But now they rise again /With twenty mortal murders on their crowns /And push us from our stools. This is more strange /Than such a murder is."

For a moment, she stared off into the distance, as if entranced, before finally she snapped out of it. Krissa cleared her throat and blinked furiously, glancing among her companions. Bending down with grace, she picked up herself a stone and raised it as if to make a toast. "I do forget. /Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends. /I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing /To those that know me. Come, love and health to all. /Then I'll sit down. Give me some wine," she recited. Krissa raised her glass and her gaze washed over the invisible crowd before herself, as if surrounded by attentive men in luxurious robes. "Fill full!" Her eyes fell upon the rock. Breaking character, she solemnly peered at the inanimate object which was definitely not a chalice of wine, and her hand lowered. Sighing softly, she tossed the stone off into the ferns and turned, settled down upon the musty log beneath her. The texture was fairly damp from the rain the night before, but she didn't mind. It was cool and welcomed in this summer heat. Thankfully the bugs weren't as bad today. Glancing around her surroundings, she took in her camp, noting that the trip wires hidden off in the foliage were still intact, given how they peered slightly out of the greenery. Her clothes were drying up on the leaf-littered tarp above the shady entrance of her little cave, the fire-pit a pile of ashes and the grass trampled from her constant travel.

Perhaps she needn't move after all…

If she needed, she could flea and return within a day or so. It wouldn't be hard… at least she didn't think so. Krissa knew that this would most likely end badly, just as it had when she was living closer to the city, but she had to take risks at times. The river was both her source of water and food, for if she traveled an hour along it heading west, there was a pool that teemed with fish. Krissa had never been a big fan of fish, but hey.. Food was food. She'd eat anything at this point- more or less. Her hazel eyes delved down and fell upon the pages of her copy of Macbeth, continuing the little performance in her head. The wind seemed to pick up, rustling the trees.

Sunshine dappled along her back and wispy curls, catching her chartreuse eyes as they ghosted over the words. She had always imagined Macbeth's voice as her own father's, her mother's voice as the power-hungry Lady Macbeth, although the character never necessarily caught the leadership and strength she had gained from the woman who had brought her into this world. Swallowing, she flipped the page, her hand gracing to the stone she had treasured so much. Krissa enjoyed how the dips and crevices, as well as it's worn smooth surface felt under her touch, relishing the memories it held. Her hand stilled and she swallowed gently. It wasn't that she was being dragged from her novel by the rather emotional memories.

It was the feeling of being watched.

Krissa's attention turned up and she allowed her gaze to wash over the ferns, as she would usually do in this type of situation. It wasn't as if she was expecting to see anything aside from perhaps an inquisitive bird or even a rabbit. As she tilted her head and adjusted herself, she found her eyes landing upon a primitive head and a massive muscular body crouched within the fronds. Jolting, her heart flew up into her nose. She hadn't seen him for days and had thought he had lost interest. At first Krissa's hand released the stone dangling from her neck and slowly traveled to the knife strapped to her exposed thigh. There was a moment as nothing seemed to happen. The simian simply observed her from a way off with his relentless tawny depths. She recalled the nature documentaries where scientists would sit off a ways from the creatures and study their behavior in the name of research, their big bulky cameras seeming to not bother the animals. As she had watched these situations on television, Krissa remembered how fascinating it had all been at the time, seeing how humans could comfortably sit a few feet away from these primates without worry that they would become violent.

She now felt as though she were the animal being given the attention, the chimp's probing eyes latched onto her and tracking her every moment. It would have been stupid of her to attempt any sort of gag in order to distract him or escape his gaze. She would end up just like any other survivor, eventually being mauled or taken prisoner- so any drastic action was completely out of the question.

How long had he been watching her?

Their stare-off was becoming tense and uncomfortable. Her eyes fell away and she turned her head to the side, bringing a hand up to rub her brow. With a sigh, she returned her gaze to her book. For a moment, she simply stared at the words… then, Krissa cleared her throat. She did not look back up. Instead, she took a deep breath. "Avaunt, and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee," she began, her once confident voice now unsure. She used her low alto pitch nonetheless, as she usually would for male characters. "Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold. /Thou hast no speculation in those eyes /Which thou dost glare with!" A gentle "hoo" escaped the primate not far from her, to which Krissa shot him a glance. His grip shifted on the staff of his spear. Straightening her posture, she took on a more feminine tone, her expression becoming that of superiority and arrogance. "Think of this, good peers, /But as a thing of custom. 'Tis no other; /Only it spoils the pleasure of the time." Chuffs coiled to her ears as she spoke toward the open air around her. Tucking her leg up beneath the other, she allowed her limb to dangle and her toes to brush the earthy forest floor.

Krissa's expression changed upon a dime, immediately becoming that of aggression. Her eyes flitted up and her pitch dropped once more. "What man dare, I dare. /Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The armed rhinoceros, or th' Hyrcan tiger; /Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves /Shall never tremble," Krissa gestured toward the primate, despite the soft pants he emitted. "Or be alive again, And dare me to the desert with thy sword. /If trembling I inhabit then, protest me /The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! /Unreal mockery, hence!"Abruptly to check a line, her attention fell, and then her eyes turned up once more. The simian twitched, but then rose and began to plod toward her. "Why so, being gone /Why so, being gone, /I am a man again. Pray you sit still!"

Pausing, she turned her attention up, finding the primate even closer than before. She could now see the bone through the cartilage of his ear and the sharpened piece through his septum. A nasty scar was engraved into his shoulder, a smaller one upon his opposite peck. Within ten steps or so, she could have cleared the distance between the two of them. "It will have blood, they say. Blood will have blood. /Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak. /Augurs and understood relations have /By maggot pies and choughs and rooks brought forth /The secret'st man of blood. —What is the night?" The spear in his hand was carved from stone and tied to a long stick, frighteningly long and garnished with grooves and notches from wear and ended her performance, bird song filling the gaps between his chuffs.

Krissa eventually shut the book and peered at him with cautious curiosity.

"You're back…" remarked the survivor, allowing what was left of her skirt to fall between her legs and dangle down the log. She brought her legs up then, hugging them to her chest, her bronze skin glowing in the dapples of light. He seemed to stiffen at the sound of her voice, his lip curling and his brow becoming heavier. "I didn't think you would return…"

There was a lull and then his free hand rose. "Yes," he gestured. His movements were fluid and yet almost sharp. "What of it?" Krissa watched as his hand then rose to scratch his chin and throat, head careening back listlessly. He appeared to be bored. Reticence fell again. Krissa's brows furrowed. She puzzled for a moment but then shook her head, twisting herself around and turning her back to the simian. Well, if he was going to simply stare and watch her, he could do so on the other side of the log, a few feet away rather than a meter. Krissa slipped from the fallen timbre and padded down along the grass, kneeling and then shuffling down into her hideaway beneath the outcrop. Resting herself back against the cold stone, she allowed her eyes to follow the adventure of an earwig carefully ambling along the opposite wall.

A few pants caused her to frown. She then leaned over and rested upon her side, peering over at the simian as he eyed her hiding spot. "Is something wrong?" she inquired. The chimp did not respond. He tilted his head up slightly and continued to glare at her. Krissa, frustrated now, crawled out from beneath the tarp and slowly rose to her feet. The primate shifted and his shoulders bristled; he then rose to his own hind legs, his spear tilting down toward her. The blade gleamed dully, the shaft aligning with his muscular forearm. Raising her hands, she sidestepped and then eventually found herself sinking down upon the trunk, her chartreuse gaze cautiously glancing between the weapon and the chimp. "I'm not going to attack you, if that's what you think…" she gently murmured. Krissa's hands then lowered and took their place in her lap. "See?"

His body remained tilted in a threatening position, his teeth bared. The blade hovered but then eventually raised, the ape taking a shuffling half-step away from her. He kept his eyes on her. "Might as well keep each other company…" she commented, taking on her mother's respectful and reasonable behavior. Bringing a leg up, she held her own ankle and allowed her fingers to gently glide over the moss in front of her. The chimp's steely look of distaste never faltered. She was given no response. Straightening, she looked at him with a tilted head. Okay, so she was settled a good metre or two away from him. What was she supposed to really say? He was an animal. Did he even really understand half of what she was saying? Raising her hands, she licked her dry lips. "What's your name?" she gestured. Again, another beat.

He raised his hand, his fur beginning to flatten. "S-L-A-T-E."

"Slate," she echoed. "Like the stone?"

The creature grunted. "Yes."

She proceeded to sign her own name in return. "Krissa," she then articulated, and then pointed to herself.

Now with introductions out of the way…. There was another uncomfortable silence. Krissa pursed her lips and then hummed. Rising to her feet, she could hear how Slate began to pant and hoot gently, followed by a deep rumble within his throat, and the staff of his spear jabbed her in the back. Krissa stumbled forward with a yelp and, angry, turned to him with a displeased expression. Slate seemed amused by this, sneering and chuffing throatily. Arching a brow, she scrunched up her nose. "I can't understand what you're saying," she remarked sourly, moving out of the way once again as he made for another jab.. "So learn some manners." With her heart quivering, she turned and left him off on his own, rather stunned by her retaliation. Of course she wasn't going to let him bully her. Not if he were simply going to poke fun at her. Finally, the ape seemed to respond. He gave two chuffs. "Human… manners," he rasped suddenly. His english was broken, but still nonetheless astonished her. Krissa blinked from where she knelt, glued to the spot. "Human manners... senseless." Why was she not surprised? Her father had documented this, yes, but to hear it with her own ears...

"Well, it wouldn't kill you to have any," she mumbled back, ignoring him as she now shuffled beneath the cave's walls and reached for the back of supplies in the back. It was nearing lunch time, and she needn't miss a meal. From outside, she heard the ape jump from where he was settled on the log. The survivor's fingers had just graced across the backpack when suddenly a hand came to clasp the hem of her skirt and underwear, the opposite grabbing tightly onto her leg. She was dragged back and thus she let out a cry, twisting around to defend herself. "Let me go!" she hissed. Her long leg shot out and collided with the simian's jaw, causing him to release her. A snarl escaped him, shrieks belting from his chest and out into the air. Slate's teeth flashed and his spear lashed through the air, swiping at her face.

Krissa, as quick as she could, slapped the spear away just before it could do any real damage, although she was unable to escape unharmed. The edge of the blade sliced into her sweaty cheek, the next coming to cut her arm open. Quickly, she scrambled back, trying to get away. With trembling hands, she held her bicep tightly and glanced upon the wound, only to realize quickly that the primate was now closing the distance between the two of them. Within seconds she had gone from sprawled upon the forest floor to covering her head with her hands and cowering in a ball. Once again, she remained there with her head curled into her body, praying that it be over quick.

Eventually her muscles began to cramp from waiting and she slowly unfurled herself. Open air surrounded her. Her throat tightened and she cautiously gaped, taking in her surroundings. She was alone once again, leaves fluttering down to the forest floor as the trees still rocked from his dramatic flourish of an exit.