Krissa felt nothing yet everything at once. Their return to the colony's home was slow and tedious, for each time she stepped, the jagged lashes from the puma's claws would scorch at a million degrees. Rocket and Nova patiently helped her hobble behind the group, Mist mourning the whole way there. Poppy remained by the female's side, and just behind Slate was guided by a grey-speckled ape with shaggy chin-fur, making sure that the younger male was balanced, even as he brushed him away and insisted he was fine. It was obvious that he was bleeding heavily, just as she was. Where was the notorious Pine and his goon on the other hand? To Krissa's complete surprise, he had taken the unharmed children and fled on a quicker route home, so as to get them the relief they needed. They had to rest on multiple occasions, seeing as Mist was still going through the cycles of her harrowing grief. This only upset Krissa further, who would look to Rocket for help. The near hairless male didn't seem too soft at all, more like he was made of stone and nothing else. He would sit, his face a continuous expression of steely thought, similar to how a gargoyle would appear to rest among the pillars of a church. Although he wasn't much for conversation, he stuck by her side, eyeing how the blood was becoming tacky upon her clavicle and breasts, her bandeau ruined from the dark burgundy smears. Krissa felt as though her hands were bathed in white glue, encased in a layer of dried goop. She remembered peeling it off her hands for fun, but the sticky, dried crimson was far from something she wanted to play with.

Eventually they made it back, the rain coming down in sheets outside. The colony was silent as soon as they walked into the camp, over two-hundred heads simultaneously following Mist as she moaned pitifully, her deceased child's broken body held tightly within her arms. As she would pass, four or five apes would reach out and gently brush an arm or a leg with their palms outstretched in sympathy. Her stomach rolling, Krissa could feel their pain, their sorrow. They felt just as much as she… or perhaps it was that she was more ape than human? Her freckled cheeks were devoid of color, the whites of her eyes bloodshot from sobbing. She had once been full of panic and anxiety, but now? Now she was just hollow. Before she could really protest, Rocket handed her off to a few healers and she was guided toward a towering cypress. At first she was unsure of how she and Slate would climb: being injured so horribly, you would think that they would have something more convenient and lower to the ground, but as the healer supporting her weight pushed through the raspberry bush clumps, she felt relief to see the same fan-like design winding up it's massive trunk. They hobbled up, Slate beginning to weaken and groan gently as he dragged himself along. Krissa ached to reach out and touch his shoulder, to somehow reassure him that it would be okay, but she remained still. She hated to admit it, but she had seen how easily he had thrown the predator off of him, and how menacing he had looked with blood coating his maw and gnashing teeth - and this made her wary.

They were escorted up the winding staircase and inside the main area where they were surrounded by apes - all female- in masks and headpieces of all different kinds, all beginning to tend to their wounds. The main female to come to her aid was a bonobo, which she had learned was similar to a chimp, yet not… or at least that was what Maurice had said. Krissa over time, with little to no pieces of information about this species of ape, began to pick up on key features. They were typically black or dark grey, smaller and more slender in appearance. Not only that, but none of them bore the milky face of some chimpanzees. Come to think of it, Slate carried quite a few bonobo characteristics, but that had to simply be coincidence. His frame was far too chimp-like. Perhaps she'd address it later. Why was her mind so flitty? The female bonobo's fingers found her bronze chin and tilted it up gently. Her voice came out in a reedy tone. "Shell," she introduced quickly. She then pointed to Krissa.

Oh, she wanted her name? Her throat was scratchy from screaming. She swallowed heavily and blinked feverishly. "Krissa," she croaked in reply, managing to smile gently. Her grin was returned as the female began to stoop down, propping up her leg on the bed of moss and fronds she was resting back into. Shell began to examine her limb, her fingers probing the wound with gentle precision. Although Krissa could tell that she was using amiable hands, she still couldn't help but retract and let out a soft yelp. It hurt so bad. Hadn't she read somewhere that feline claws were coated in some sort of venom? Her father had always dismissed it as simple veterinary legend, but she had never believed him. Krissa recalled visiting her older sister at her apartment in San Francisco, and playing with Caramel, her pet cat. Of course she hadn't meant to hurt her, but boy did those tiny scratches burn. She remembered how much it would hurt each time she would do the dishes, or water the garden, or even if she would simply brush it in her sleep. Krissa had found them so painful and had constantly complained, but compared to the cat-scratches she had now? She would give them up faster than you could say 'caramel' if she had the option.

Regardless if her father were correct or not, the biting pain was unbearable. She hadn't felt anything this immense since her appendix had burst and she had needed surgery. Shell began to clean out the wounds, the agony flaring up her calf. Distressed, Krissa leaned heavy on her side, gripping the bed and clenching her teeth. The bonobo's shamrock eyes met Krissa's chartreuse set. 'Going to start dressing. This is going to hurt,' Shell warned, her almond-shaped optics pinching. It seemed as though she understood just how much pain she was in. Or, perhaps she was simply treating her like she would a child..

'Thank you,' she signed halfheartedly. 'Just please be careful..'

Shell expressed surprise as she replied. Had she not known she could sign? 'You remind me. Old owner,' she signed, smiling fondly at her.. 'Young girl, rich family.'

"I can assure you-" The bonobo pressed some sort of oil into the wound, followed by ointment. Sucking in greatly through her teeth, she squeezed her eyes shut. "I am not from a rich family." There was a lull as Shell continued to work at her leg, the pulpy ground-up greens being wedged into the shallow lacerations. Just as she was beginning to come down from her adrenaline high, her body beginning to feel even more vulnerable as her limbs trembled greatly, she glanced over her shoulder to find that Slate was being moved. A groan of torment escaped him, although he kept himself together. Nonetheless, the sound caused her gut to flip. She attempted to sit up. "W-where are you taking him?" she asked, but before she could stand, Shell hooted and whined, a tender mitt coming to her shoulder. Krissa knew there was no point in struggling, nor even approaching him, yet she still felt the urge to be there while they sealed up those deep gouges in his flesh. She was part of the reason he was hurt in the first place… Never in a million years had Krissa thought that she would see fear in Slate's eyes and yet in spite of this, as he had crouched and had approached her tentatively, it had been ever so present. Those tawny depths of his had been all over her as he had reached for her, searching for something she wasn't sure he would find.

Although the pain was immense, she continued to watch as the healer bound her leg with a thick wooly lamb's ear, as she recognized it. "What was that you put on it?" she peeped, her voice tight from the pain. Shell finished binding her wound and straightened up, now checking over the scrapes she had on her right hand. Her eyes never left her work.

"Yarrow," she replied, her rangy fingers passing over the ruddy flesh. They were scuffed yet not bleeding. 'Any more wounds?' Shaking her head, Krissa allowed her tongue to pass over her lips. They were still salty from the tears. As the bonobo disappeared for a brief moment, she tuned in to the dull throb in her leg. Adjusting the way she was laying, she rolled off her side and onto her back, shooting a glance in the direction that the females and her injured friend had vanished in. It seemed that they were finally returning, some with blood on their hands, but there was no sight of the marred chimp.

Krissa began to recall the incident. As the screams for help had hit her ears, her feet had simply moved on their own, giving her no time to contemplate whether racing into danger would be a good idea or not. Swallowing, she shut her eyes tight, trying to forget the sight of Twig's maimed crown and throat. If it hadn't been for Slate … would she even be here right now? If she had reacted quicker, would Twig be alive?

Pulling her thoughts away from the dreadful conversation, she reflected on her current situation. So much for leaving as soon as possible, she thought defeatedly. Krissa felt her stomach wrench and laid her head back, trying to wrap her head around the current events. She had finally been able to hold something down and move without feeling the need to vomit, only for the attack to occur. Great. Despite the odds, Krissa knew somehow that she would be alright. She would just have to avoid Pine and his nasty followers for the time being. Outside she could hear the chirping of crickets and the pattering of rain hitting the leaves, the clear silent and absent of it's usual crackling fires. Natural candle light flickered from massive hunks of wax gathered inside of oyster shells and hanging baskets, filling the dark room with a soothing honeyed glow. Everything was still, aside form the healers who occasionally would look her way.

Shell eventually returned, alerting her with a gentle hoot as she approached. Sitting up slowly, she recognized their usual clay breakfast dishes, water gleaming inside, as well as a scrap of material. Grateful, she remained as motionless as possible as she began to wipe away the blood from her hands and arms, as well as from her front. She would surely have to bathe herself later and change her clothes… but how? Her bag was in Pine's care. Krissa wanted to ask the bonobo about her things, but her own nerves got the better of her. Who was to say she wouldn't become hostile? The bonobo shot a glance over her shoulder which the human then followed, eyes falling upon Slate. The deep lesions were thankfully dressed and patched up, the soft leaves swathing his left bicep and his right ulna. He had been cleaned of any blood on his body, thankfully, and now looked like the same old chimp she had met in the woods… Surely he was exhausted, Krissa understood, and thus she removed her eyes from him. 'You wish to speak?' Shell asked carefully.

Krissa and her exchanged an awkward stare, but were then interrupted before her question could be answered. Just as Shell had finished up, a dark brown chimp plodded her way over. 'You need rest,' she pointed out, dark brown irises flitting over her. She seemed to hold authority in this building, her pale face concealed by a mask of saffron-colored leaves drawn through a string of sorts. Krissa nodded gently. 'Need clean clothes. Get them in the morning,' continued the healer. Her timbre was obvious, her hands moving with definiteness that only a mother or royal would hold.

"Thank you," the human said curtly. The handful of healers dipped their heads in acknowledgement and took their leave, allowing a heavy silence to fall over the room. Krissa's eyes fell to the dirty bowl of water and the rag within, studying the way the top of her head was reflected in the dirty water. It had been so long since she had seen her own reflection. Her lids fell shut and she took a deep breath, then glanced over her shoulder. Slate was watching with careful tones of cognac, settled with his arms resting stiffly upon his bowed legs. Rising, the human approached him slowly, climbing over the nest between the two of them and coming to rest on the lip of the setup. They searched each other's faces and she allowed the sight of him to be mulled over within her mind. He could have easily killed that animal if it had not been for the others scaring it off. This, now, did not make her nervous… which was odd for her to admit. Krissa shuffled closer and rested upon her knees next to him, hesitantly reaching her fingers out. She managed to brush the wooly lamb's ear ever so faintly before his nose wrinkled and his lips peeled back to reveal a hint of his sharp teeth. Quickly drawing away, her hand hovered and then fell into her lap, the air between them tight as a stretched rubber band. "Are… are you okay?" she asked softly.

Slate's features uncrumpled and he allowed his eyes to fall to the dressing upon his forearm. He seemed to hesitate, as if unsure of what to say, his oculars flitting from one place to another. Krisa saw his hands twitch and allowed her own dainty extremity to quickly meet one of his own. Slate, instead of pulling away, looked straight at her with those burning amber eyes. "Just talk," she whispered softly, nodding. "I'll be patient." Her digits slipped from his knuckles. Once again, there was nothing but the sound of crickets and rain. A rumble of thunder caused them both to flinch slightly, Krissa looking up at the roof of the hand-crafted building. "Hurt," Slate suddenly droned. His voice came in rasping huffs, but his english wasn't the worst she had heard. "But scars make .. apes strong."

The silence was thick and soupy. Krissa blinked, feeling her chest tighten. "You saved your sister and those children," she murmured, rising to sit next to him. "You saved me… you fought bravely."

"Protected apes," corrected Slate.

Krissa shook her head, brows furrowing. "I'm human, yet you saved me too… you could have let him eat me while you got the others to safety."

"Could have taken the chance to escape," pointed out Slate, giving her a dirty look. The survivor felt as if his words had just punched her in the stomach, her eyes beginning to burn. How dare he say something like that? "Could have gotten far away and… left apes alone."

Krissa felt ready to raise hell at his callous remarks. "Are you kidding? I couldn't have just left Twig to die-"

Slate came close, a great snort of air hitting her cheeks. "Was already dead!" he growled. Krissa opened her mouth to say something but his barbed tongue had already cut her deep. "Kris was ... stupid." She felt tears welling in her eyes, drawing away slightly as he tilted his head, his amber eyes holding something explicitly vile. Slate's teeth exposed themselves once more. "You should not.. have gotten in the.. way."

Breath catching in her throat, she tried to say something in her defense, but was blinded by a film of tears. His dark face became a muddled mixture of different tones of inky grey. Krissa's eyes lowered and she nodded, swallowing gently. The human rose to her unsteady feet and skirted around the nest between them. She then limped over so she could rest upon her chosen set of bedding and laid herself down, exposing her back to the hateful ape. Krissa then began to sob softly.

Some time during the night she had cried herself dry and allowed her eyes to shut, her body stilling as she was plunged into a restless sleep.

What woke Krissa from her restless sleep was silence, oddly enough. Her bronze lids were swollen and puffy, the survivor having to peel her eyes open like one would remove dead skin off a sunburn. It was quiet, the sound of an eagle's laughter filling the air as it soared above the colony's home. Rolling stiffly over onto her back, Krissa peered over at Slate. The ape was surprisingly turned toward her, his eyes shut and features still as he slept soundly. At least he was getting the rest he needed. Feeling her throat tighten as she remembered the ongoings of the night before, she squeezed her lids shut and shuffled back onto her opposite side. Her wounds still ached, albeit dully, and so every little movement felt as though she were pressing hot coals to her leg.

Closing her eyes softly, Krissa took a deep breath, feeling oddly… comfortable. Feeling safe, despite the circumstances. She was just spiraling into a rather dark sleep when her ears pricked and she startled awake. Sitting up, her eyes shot toward the entrance of the medicine tree. Krissa's attention fell upon the muscular form of Rocket, hovering near the thick trunk of the ancient cypress, oculars gleaming in the dull light. The grey chimp's head bobbed and a soft bray escaped his lips. Next to join him was Maurice, his hulking form knuckling in past his friend. Relief built within her chest and burst, tears prickling at her lashes. Krissa took the time to swing her tender leg over the lip of the bed, coming to face the orangutan and the chimpanzee completely as they approached her quietly. Behind her, she could hear Slate stir, a grunt escaping him as Rocket moved over to him. 'Your leg?' signed the bornean as he came to a stop. The auburn animal settled with a puff of air.

'Getting better,' replied Krissa, hands trembling. Her throat locked up before she could explain verbally. Swallowing, her lips parted and a tear dribbled down her right cheek. A million thoughts ran through her head and she began to ramble. The words poured out like a relentless waterfall. 'I'm so sorry. I tried my hardest. I couldn't get to him quick enough-'

'Slow,' Maurice soothed, purring softly in his throat pouch. The orang shook his massive head. Their eyes locked together like chainlink. 'You have been through a lot. We know what happened…' A great breath escaped her and she allowed her face to fall into her palms. A sob heaved through her and she shook her head, trying to erase the image of the gored child's sunken pate from her mind. Maurice's large leathery hand found her upper arm and gripped her bare skin, the orangutan gurgling. "It had him already and I tried - tried to cover him… If I- I had just been there- sooner-" hiccuped Krissa, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry, it should have been me…"

A hiss of hot air caught her attention as the orangutan hauled himself up onto the bed next to her, wrapping a long auburn arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his rotund body. Krissa couldn't help but sink against him, pressing her nose into his damp and musty fur. Heat resonated from his columns of hair, warming her shivering form. Maurice was clearly made for this type of weather. 'He is with Caesar now. It is okay,' assured the greying orangutan. His coriaceous hand proceeded to stroke along her limb compassionately, trying to ease her worries. It wasn't until she heard a faint reedy whine come from the entrance that she swallowed her tears and began to wipe her eyes, peering through blurry vision at the chimp approaching. Poppy held a worried look on her face, Krissa's bag and weapon in hand. At first she couldn't believe that Pine would allow his sister to take her things from him, but then she figured that the two leaders must have backed this up. That, or perhaps he couldn't say no to his younger sibling. Reaching out, Krissa retrieved her things as soon as she was within arm's reach. Their fingers then interlaced and she nodded gently. "Thank you Poppy," she rasped gently, earning a soft bray from the female. Worry was clear in her ashen eyes.

'You're okay?'

Krissa nodded her head, sniffling. 'Your brother saved me. He's hurt worse.' The female's gaze peeked over her shoulder and she quickly moved past Krissa, now more concerned for her sibling's well-being. Her whimpers were heartbreaking, listening to her fuss over Slate's wounds and scold him for being reckless. Maurice in the meantime ushered Krissa to go and change, their visit to end soon. 'The burying will be later today,' he mentioned, head tilting. The survivor felt her belly twinge. 'Are you feeling strong enough to go?'

So they wanted her there? Krissa swallowed nervously and wiped her eyes, shifting in place and moving to unzip her hiking bag. It opened to reveal a few items of clothing, some planets and granolas. Of course she wanted to go.. She was simply surprised that the colony wanted her to be a part of the service. Would this be like their funerals? Or different? What were the respectful customs? Peering up from her bag, she nodded her head. "Of course," she murmured softly, although the throbbing in her chest told her otherwise. Was she really ready to look upon Twig's disfigured form again?

The orangutan rumbled and dipped his head. 'I'll inform Mist,' he disclosed. He then rose to his full height just as she did and burbled, his olive-flecked gaze searching her face. 'We thank you. Not all humans would do such a thing.' Uncomfortable with the orang's praise, she bit down on her lip and shyly averted her gaze. Rocking from foot to foot, she began to search for any place she could change, when suddenly Maurice prodded her with a gentle digit. 'Toward the back, nobody is there. Surgical room.' With a faint dip of her head, the young woman turned and traveled in the direction indicated. Disappearing from sight, she ignored the eyes that had followed her and nestled herself back into the bedded area. There were bowls of water and rather dried leaves, as well as multiple baskets just as there had been in the recovery section. Stripping herself of her clothes in the dim light, she quickly mosied on into clean undergarments and a new bra, along with her grey tank top, her father's worn-out button up and her jeans, slipping on her belt and finally strapping her knife to her denim-clad thigh. Tucking in the baggy shirt, she ran a hand through her messy curls. It was just about time to brush them, now wasn't it? Although they would become frizzy, they'd calm down in the damp surrounding air. Retrieving the comb from one of the side-pockets, she ran the bristles through her dark locks and then gave her head a quick flick. Krissa found that she had to steady herself afterward, seeing as how dizzy she was from losing blood the day before. She needed something to eat soon… and a good pair of shoes. Her feet were covered in a layer of grit, which wasn't too pleasant to feel between her toes. Had she packed her god-forsaken boots? Sighing heavily, she began to rummage through, finally finding her socks and lace-up American Rags. Krissa took a few moments to button up her sleeves and then tucked her hands into the baggy sleeves, her digits clinging onto the musty fabric. No wonder this bag had been killing her back the entire journey to the falls!

Plodding out from her shelter, she came to find that Maurice, Poppy and Rocket were all absent from the room, leaving Slate alone. The male was standing, facing her as soon as she stepped into the open. His probing cognac tones reminded her of their argument, which caused her mood to turn sour. All sorrow had left her now, replaced by ire. Krissa curled her soft lips and ripped her chartreuse set from his own, crossing over the wooden floor and coming to her bed where her bow and quiver sat. Silently she settled down, unfolding her socks and beginning to slide them on, careful of how her pant leg brushed against her wound. She took the time to carefully fold her socks down before she set her footwear alight on the ground in front of her and began to loosen the laces.

Slate gently grunted, but Krissa did not let it draw her attention and continued to work on her boots. It was best to just ignore him- besides, he would probably just try to agitate her again, and right now she wasn't sure if she had the nerve to retaliate. She was a mess right now. The tension seemed to have its own physical being, growing stronger and stronger each moment. Krissa could feel him staring at her, feel him waiting for her to turn around and address him. What was his deal? Just as she finished tying her second boot, Slate seemed to utter her name. Bolting upright, she whirled on him, striding straight toward him and coming to stand only a foot away from him. "What?" she hissed, her hazel eyes burning into him. He stood there stiffly, his amber gaze trained upon her, his face holding an indescribable expression. "What is it? Do you want to tell me again that I could have run? Because I couldn't have- that just isn't who I am!"

Slate remained silent. "After all this, what do you want? You would watch me day-in and day-out, and for what? What is it, do you just want me to leave?" Krissa's chest was heaving for air, her heart hammering in her chest. She continued, her voice becoming wry and quavering. "I tried my hardest to save Twig. I really did! That's why I tried to protect him. I know I could have escaped, but that just wasn't an option for me!" Krissa shook her head, even as he took a step toward her. "I may not be one of your kind, but I am not so heartless as to leave a child to die-"

Within two more steps, he had cleared the distance between them. The male's coriaceous hand rose and latched onto the back of Krissa's cranium, pulling her into a tight embrace as he pressed his forehead to her own. His opposite hand had snaked to her shoulder, clamping down firmly and holding her still. Shock rippled through her at first, but eventually Krissa felt a burst of adoration begin to well within her heart and squeezed her eyes shut, remaining where she stood as she came to grips with what exactly he was trying to convey to her. This was too intimate to be an action of anger. Eventually Slate pulled himself away from her, something strange stirring from behind his fiery brown eyes. His face seemed to be wracked with grief and worry, all muddled in together and running rampant across his features. "Slate.." she murmured softly. "I'm so sorry."

"You.." he began gently. "..are human, but.." His movements were stiff, yet he still proceeded to sign despite his injuries. It was clear that he was expressing something, his steely exterior having melted away. Flattening his hand, as if one would in order to swat someone, he brought his digits to his chin and waved it toward her, similarly to how one would say thank you. 'Good,' then, following with a grunt of exertion, he balled both fists together and cast them up toward his chest, signing, 'Strong.' Krissa felt her throat begin to lock up once more, holding back a flood of tears. Straightening, she allowed the breath caught in her larynx to seep out through her nose. "Family," he asserted, unadroitly gesturing the word as well, his voice hushed and hoarse.

Slate curled all his digits into his palm, excluding his index on each paw and eventually entwining them, as if to make a promise. The chimp performed this twice, each finger opposite taking it's turn on top, before he reached out and pressed his knuckles to the skin just below her clavicle.

"Friend."

Author's Note: Oh boy. Sorry for how long this took, but with starting my job, I've been working like crazy and haven't been able to find much time to add to this chapter. Thankfully with the weekend, I managed to finish it in time to post it just before I head in for another shift! ^^'

I expected this chapter to be a little longer, but unfortunately I think its best to move on and start a fresh, new one so I'm no longer struggling with writer's block.

Anywaaaay~ I hope that you're enjoying the story so far. Don't forget to leave a review- I love hearing from you guys about what you enjoyed.

Thanks for reading 3 Love ya lots pals, see you in the next one!