Smack.

Krissa gritted her teeth and glanced up toward the higher branches of the fallen pine, peering up at the apes above with narrowed green eyes. Normally she wouldn't have such trouble with the others, but today of all days she was being bullied something particularly awful. After the storm had passed, it had become very apparent that something was out of place. A massive pine had collapsed into the ape village, landing inches from the royal family's home. The colony had been working since dawn in order to get some of the branches cleared away before they would try and start the removal process. Smack. Another pinecone collided with the back of her head. Krissa gritting her teeth, trying to ignore the way the apes settled up above in the branches grunted in amusement. Tugging at another branch, she brought the tomahawk in her hand down upon the its spongy bark. Krissa tugged back a few times before it finally snapped off and tossed it off to the side. It landed among a few others she had managed to break earlier, giving a dull hiss of it's rustling needles.

Smack, smack.

Biting back a groan of frustration, the ravenette proceeded to move to the next limb. Smack. Lord help her. Her head turned on its axis and she glowered up toward the two, taking note of the apeish smirks upon their faces. Sage and Quill. She wanted to snap at them for their behavior, but instead, remained silent. Why heckle them and give them what they wanted? They were acting like children anyway. The young woman took a deep breath and returned to her puttering, ignoring how their paws thudded against the trunk as they followed her. With a firm grasp, Krissa began to climb; one-two-three. The young woman bore down and hoisted herself up further with a grunt and then crouched, her dirtied fingers pressing tightly into the slippery pine's bark. At first she paused, taking in the scenery from the precarious spot on the limb, but eventually she hobbled over to the trunk and used her bare toes to balance herself. Her light body hovered gracefully as she raised the ax high and then brought it sailing down. The branch cracked and then she reached down, giving it a few vigorous jerks. Feeling the hot afternoon sun on her back, she couldn't help but enjoy the serenity of the moment. She listened to the communication of the apes as they spoke back and forth, cooperating as a huge team in order to clear out the hazard present. They were all working away peacefully. The harsh aroma of pine sap filled her nose and stuck to her palms, leaving a gummy texture behind. Krissa didn't mind, though.

Smack. Krissa wrinkled her nose and grabbed the nearest pinecone, and within a rash moment of thought, she launched it toward the two chimpanzees that jeered just above her.

SMACK!

The eldest of the two snarled. Quill yipped in surprise. The two tensed and the hair along Sage's shoulders began to rise. Right, these were wild animals.

Oh no.. The pinecone within Quill's hand suddenly disappeared as he lunged.

Quickly, the young woman wheeled around. Krissa began to climb her way up the trunk, having abandoned her tomahawk in search of refuge, knowing fully well that the two males were in hot pursuit. Quill's pant-huffs caused her pace to quicken, brushing by anybody in her path in order to get out of the way, muttering apologies the entire way. She scrambled, then knelt, her knees smashing into the surface until she eventually found that she could no longer keep her grip in places, her hands too damp. Surprised shrieks erupted from a male who she nearly knocked over, which caused Krissa's heart to just about leap from her throat. "Sorry!" she shouted back as soon as she caught sight of the male's sour expression. Losing her footing so suddenly, her heart leapt and she, in turn, did as well. Her body caught the air and she felt a rough hand snatched at her ankle, nearly closing around it.

Thankfully, Sage narrowly missed her, left behind while staring at her as she flailed for the nearest branch, catching herself with willowy arms with a force strong enough to pop them from their sockets. Her biceps shrieked in pain as she held herself up, trying to catch her breath. The males slowed their pace and both looked at one another in question. Finally, Sage and Quill ambled forward, beginning to approach the femme who was now stranded out on a limb like a dangling kitten. Taking the lead, the brown and auburn chimp ventured forward and placed a hand on the branch a hair's length away from where she hung.

Krissa's eyes flashed and anger grew hot in her chest. "Don't," she threatened, her voice low. The male paused and eyed her, but then stepped closer. The branch trembled, it's leaves shaking. Her ire began to simmer into fear, a cold drop creeping down her spine. Refusing to back down though, she bared her teeth. "Quill, fuck off!"

Sage snickered. "Break it," he sneered, encouraging his younger companion.

Her gut plunged and then flipped. Krissa met Sage's emerald eyes and then narrowed her own keen set. "You sonova-" she began to mumble, only to feel the branch give way as it began to creak and bend beneath her fingers. Quill slowly pressed all his weight down, and it was in that moment that she saw some sort of bloodthirsty glint behind their simian simpers. Before she could protest, the branch snapped and she was falling. Krissa quickly hit the ground, falling perhaps four feet or so. The wind was knocked out of her and she felt as if her stomach had been launched up into her ribs, her organs cramped in together. The impact rocked through her system, and for a moment she struggled to breathe, but her struggles quickly ended. Quill's body collided with the earth like a missile, rising to full height over her and letting out a pant-bark, his teeth flashing. Krissa's anger returned for a moment, and at first she considered rising and meeting his height, but the young woman faltered as their eyes met and she choked. Her entire body seized up and Krissa lost feeling in her legs, her adrenaline kicking her in the ass.

Quill let out a shrill in order to scare her further, only for the girl to let out her own hoarse scream in an attempt to assert at least some sort of dominance. To Krissa's surprise, the chimpanzee flinched and fell back onto all fours. Had she just frightened him? Quill's eyes slowly climbed and she felt a fuzzy belly against the back of her head. Tilting her crown upward, her eyes met Cornelius's royal set. Her chin fell and she caught sight of Quill as he bowed his head, his violent demeanor vanishing before his prince. He had been caught in the act and offered his hand like a pitiful child, attempting to apologize for his behavior. Although she had just experienced a moment of gratifying fear, Krissa pressed back against Cornelius and slowly came to a kneeling position, her own head ducking in submission as well. It wasn't until Cornelius passed his hand over Quill's four digits and nubby pinky that she felt her body loosen up. The young woman looked up through her dark lashes at the fallen tree, but found that Sage had evacuated long before Cornelius had blessed them with his powerful presence. What a coward. Her lip curled. Was she any better?

Any braver?

Krissa was snapped from her self-pity by the prince's coriaceous hand. It wrapped itself around her upper arm, fingertips pressing into her moist caramel skin. He slowly hoisted her to her feet, his gaunt face smeared in chalky white war paint, a fork of violet between his brows. Her face was placid at first, but then took on a look of deep concern. Sliding her limb from his grasp, she reached up and brushed hair from her face, feeling the sticky mess as it plastered to her head. It was so humid out, even after such a nasty storm. 'Need to defend yourself,' Cornelius insisted. His lips curled further downward. 'Need to stand up for yourself.'

Her heart dropped. 'I know,' she replied, looking away in shame. Her brows knit. 'I've tried.'

'You stopped,' he pointed out. 'Froze.' She shut her eyes tightly. Had he been watching? Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around herself, refusing to meet his gaze.

"How much did you see?"

"Enough," Cornelius responded. Her eyes slowly drifted to his. They conveyed something that she couldn't quite understand. They held each other's eyes for a while until they both let out a heavy sigh. "You are ape."

Nodding her head, she grew slightly more confident. 'Apes together, strong.'

'Apes together, strong,' Cornelius echoed, mirroring her movements. A faint smile laced his lips and Krissa felt as if the heavy aura of prince and subject had lifted. Reaching out, the young woman placed a gentle hand upon Cornelius's shoulder, and to her surprise, he leaned into it. The male shuffled closer and ran a hand over her own, before allowing it to glide upward with a firm clutch of his apeish digits. Her chest swelled and she smiled as he gave her a playful push, braying softly. She hadn't exactly expected it to be Cornelius to be the one to come to her aid, but she was thankful.

Breaking away from the prince, she felt his fingers trail along her elbow in order to grab her attention. "Now get back.. to work," he scoffed, amused.

She just about laughed, but stifled it well. "Yes, your Highness." Krissa curtsied in a silly fashion. Turning, she stiffly began to travel back toward the tree's leaning body, examining how it had disturbed the earth where it had fallen. Sighing heavily, she caught the eyes of curious onlookers, the apes having taken a gander at their prince and the drama below. It was evident that they held guilty consciences though, seeing as they immediately turned away upon discovery. Krissa simpered. She had to admit, she was glad to have Cornelius as an ally. It certainly made her feel more secure, thinking of this as she worked away and tried to ignore the ache in her back from the fall. It didn't hurt to have royalty on your side, did it?

There was something carnal in the air that night. Something animalistic and primitive. Another storm was coming, heat lightning off in the distance, the air heavy with humidity. Nocturnal hunts were considered to be more risky, seeing as many animals roamed at this time, the vast majority of creatures on that list being predators. Slate had all but lost himself in the fermented fruit they ate, the taste strong and brisk on the tongue, yet nonetheless welcome. His heart beat slow in his chest, falling into rhythm of the drums; their pounding thrummed through every vein, every nerve, bringing him down to earth and grounding him. His eyes would occasionally drift off toward that towering archway of pines, wondering when they would back. Minutes had turned into hours; one piece of fruit had turned into four. He was beginning to feel as if her were jelly within his skin, his head reeling and his vision delayed whenever he'd turn.

Hoisting himself to all fours, the male knuckles his way off down the slope, heading in the direction of his home. Slate, in the middle of his wandering, staggered to a stop. The dream. His hand graced to his throat, still intact, thankfully. The smell of musk filled his nose and he felt movement. The chinobo's head turned so quickly that it audibly cracked along the joints.

A ghost, perhaps? He mused at the idea.

How could Koba possibly be alive? How could his spirit be with him still?

That's just it, a tiny voice whispered hoarsely. He's always with you, just like Caesar is with Cornelius.

Slate shifted uncomfortably. The voice hadn't been there in months. His father was long gone-

He still lives in Pine.

- he was long dead.

He lives in you.

Reaching up, his fingers gripped the back of his head and he snarled. There was so much going on in his head suddenly and in the heat lightning he could see freckles and endless auburn hair and the harvest moon and the lazy summer breeze and the smell of blood, the taste -

ʎon ʇɥınʞ ʎon ɔɐn ƃǝʇ ɹıd oɟ ɯǝ? Slate...

"Slate," the voice said. "Are you okay?"

Slate felt as if he had just been sucked back into his body, bringing his head up to lock eyes with his rather apprehensive sister. Her ashen pools were wide with confusion, head slightly tilted and her lips pinched. At first there was nothing but open air that trembled between the two, but soon his sister took a step closer to him. 'You left,' she explained softly, clearly a bit nervous. A soft drawl left her lips, the apeish sound bringing the confused male a bit of whatever comfort he could possibly receive in this moment. The tension wavered and his lips parted. 'Wondered if you were going to sleep.'

There was an awkward pause. Slate tilted his head a bit lower and his shoulders hunched. Settled back upon his haunches with a huff, he blinked furiously and then brought a hand to his brow. Poppy edged closer as he began to search for a reason as to why he was down there. Why? He couldn't just explain that he was having a drunken mental breakdown. How was he supposed to word this? 'My spear,' he began. 'Was looking for my spear. Wanted to bring it with me... helps me walk when I'm.. like this.'

Poppy's eyes graced over his muscular frame. Reaching out, she took his wrist and rose, pulling him off toward their shared hut. Slate rubbed at her paw, but did not try and pry her off. His lazy lungs billowed shallowly, his warm limbs feeling a tad bit heavy. There was a serene quiet between the two- unspoken words being so reassuring in a moment such as this. Poppy understood... she always understood. They came to the mouth of the hut and she retrieved their father's weapon, handing it over to her brother without a second though. A faint smile came to her lips as she reached up and brushed his brow, earning a grunt of irritation. The two then traveled up the side of the hill, his younger twin pausing as another flash of hot purple sheet-lightning reached it's clawing hand across the sky. They were lit up in the light, their fur rising on end from the electricity. Just as soon as they had returned to the comforting warmth of the towering hearths, the horns sounded and the sentries gibbered from up in the trees.

Slate's head rose among the ranks, all preparing to greet the hunting party with eager flashes of their teeth and hoots of excitement. Ilam entered first, then Cornelius, Rocket, Sage, Marshall. The strongest of the group entered carrying their strings of fish and the autumn-painted coats of their prized foxes. Furs were beginning to become more valuable, seeing as the winder would surely come in like a lion. Being near such a large body of water surely did not help their case. The wracks carried upon their backs were set down and unfurled. Several apes moved to assist, and that was when he laid eyes upon her as she was emerging next to his adopted sibling, Salt.

Her hair was wild and untamed in all it's raven curls, her eyes visibly gleaming hard jasmine from even where he sat. Her caramel skin was garnished and painted with the traditional warpaint, her collarbones and the peaks of her breasts decorated just the same. He still remembered watching Cornelius closely, eyeing him as he watched how low his hands graced. He recalled how proud she had been to be going alone, how resilient she had been, how fresh and alive. There she stood, perched atop the shelf of rock at the edge of camp, looking out across the blazing infernos that reached up to the gathering storm clouds. It felt like some weird dream as he approached her through the thick haze in front of him, moving through what felt like soup in order to get to her. Her eyes met his, and instantly, one of the great bonfires popped, spitting embers up into the air that danced and spiraled like that of a group of excited fireflies.

A smile laced her lips and he offered a hand, which she gratefully took. This spirit of the woods, this nymph, stepped delicately onto the ground before him. He guided her around him and allowed her to pass, feeling how her fingers lingered upon his dark hair. Slate breathed deeply and followed after, knuckling at her side as she moved swiftly through the apes. Krissa's body was adorning one of her simple black bras and a long flowing skirt; it proved perfect for her to move around in, whilst keeping herself covered enough to withstand the cool yet sticky autumn air. This evening, the air proved to be particularly murky.

"You are very quiet," she remarked softly, glancing over her shoulder at him. As they approached the fireside where Poppy was situated, she began to remove her quiver from her shoulders, ducking her head under the strap. "Been enjoying yourself?"

He shrugged a massive shoulder and then came to sit down next to her. 'Been waiting for you,' he corrected, then he faltered. Krissa let out a tiny snicker of amusement, which caused his ears to heat up. Averting his gaze, he tried to ignore his momentary loss of filter. Great, now she wouldn't let that go for another month or so. "Awe, you missed me Slate?"

He huffed indignantly and turned his head in her direction. "The hunt, how did it.. go?" he spoke, words coated multiple sets of blunt-ended daggers.

With a roll of her eyes, Krissa silently agreed to the change of subject. "It was great, and, I didn't scrape myself up this time." Reaching up with a graceful hand, she pushed her hair out of her chalky-stained skin. A smile laced her supple lips. "Ilam helped me out, just as you said."

'Did you run into any problems?' he asked, now admittedly curious. Poppy had risen and exited at this point, off to do who knows what.

"Well," she began softly. Her hands rose and he brought his attention down to them. 'We found a few snakes out in the brush, but nothing too serious. I stayed away.' Krissa had been known to pick insects and snakes up, seeing as she had always had a mild curiosity toward them. He'd never forget the day when the girl had called him while they were weaving baskets and she had raised the long banded and brightly-colored snake up with a huge smile, just about stopping his heart. She could have easily mistaken it for a milk snake.

The male grunted and his lips flattened into a tight line. Tighter than before. 'Did you touch any?'

She shook her head. Poppy returned with a yeep of greeting, a small clay bowl within her hand, along with some woven cloth. The material was made from deer hide, unstained and pure in order to assist in absorbation. When wet, the cloth became supple and worked as a cleaning assistant. The chinobo tilted his head curiously as his sister set the dish between the two. He just caught her eyes then as she retreated, shooting her a rather dubious look. Krissa sighed and then reached down, and in that moment, Slate turned his head and extended one of his long hands. The chinobo just managed to snatch hold of the cloth before she could, earning a soft tsk from her.

She could get as upset as she'd like. He wasn't going to let her exhaust herself further. It was reasonable. Right?

Bringing the cloth up to her face, he brushed the moist material over her cheeks, watching as the paint smeared at first, only to slowly but surely disappear, leaving behind her creamy honeyed-brown complexion. Slate felt his throat tighten as her eyes fluttered open, meeting his eyes. Realizing that he had been caught staring, he pursed his lips and scraped a bit hard, causing her to let out a grunt of annoyance. She wriggled. 'Stop,' he signed, scolding her for moving.

The ravenette let out a soft laugh. Slate brayed and extended his free appendage, he snatched hold of her hair. At first she squealed in protest, but as he pulled her closer to his face, she met his gaze with her own set of challenging depths. "Stop acting like .. an impatient child!" he growled, throaty voice low.

Her eyes rolled. "Yes, dad!" she drawled sarcastically in reply. The ape then released her, proceeding to wash her clean of the milky smears upon her flesh.

Once they were finished struggling through Krissa's little clean-up, they turned their attention to the drummers that were beginning to take their places. Massive make-shift war drums were stretched taught with cured hide, their concussive sound enough to give someone whiplash. Slate felt the young woman shuffle where she was settled, her chartreuse pools reflecting the fire's light. The food was being passed out now, the warmth of the moment infecting everyone in it's path. The storm was growing somewhat louder at this point, the lightning visibly crawling across the inky clouds overhead.

The drumming began, the beat resonating through each and every one of Slate's bones. His skeleton was rattling within its hot flesh incasing, his hair ruffling in the sticky autumn breeze. Time stood still and suddenly he was only focused upon the large, sinewy arms of his fellow colony members bringing the thick drumsticks of oak down upon the treated elk skin. Mosquitos did not bother him, the wind stirring the crackling fire nothing but a whisper within his ears.

Krissa stood up. Her lips moved, yet no sound filled his ears. The ravenette's hand found his wrist and he was pulled to his feet. She lead him forward, guiding him toward the center of the village, within the ring of fire. It wasn't until he heard the sound of his tribemates over the drums that he came to understand what exactly was taking place. Story-telling.

It had never been his favorite, and thus the bulky outcross screwed up his face. Slate moved to make a quick exit, only to find that he was facing Nova, the girl holding a pot of warpaint. He grimaced. This couldn't be happening...

Krissa caught his glance and beamed. Okay, maybe it was.

The drums died slowly to a small and steady pulse of sound. Turning himself, he at first wondered what he could say that could possibly excuse him from the little play about to take place. Just as he tried to pull away from Nova's hands, his eyes found Krissa. His attempted wash-up had been sullied as an orangutan female decorated her face for the part she was to play, which frustrated him slightly. Perhaps he should have just left it in the first place..

Then it was his turn. Slate could tell just what was being smeared onto him, yet he stopped the young girl before she could finish the right half of his face. The lightning flashed. The two tribe members parted from them, leaving nothing but the static between the two of them to tell the story.

At first he was stiff and uncomfortable, even as Krissa seemed to fall easily into her roll. He recalled the day he had watched her prancing along her log so long ago, and how marvelous yet strange it had been to watch. As Slate watched her, standing rigid, he couldn't help but watch as the story unfolded.

All eyes were upon them. Krissa took a deep breath and began to speak, voice breaking through the silence and rising in volume in order to assert herself.

"Our story begins with the huntress. She was a beautiful and lithe creature, flexible and persistent with a heart of fire. Nonetheless, she had little to her name, her furs tarnished and ragged." Krissa made a display of herself, drawing her bow and aiming for the closest tree. Her arrow was let loose and made it's mark. "She was skilled in bow and blade, her reflexes impeccable and her knowledge of the woods unending. She ruled over vast landscapes of pine and oak. She had many subjects that she protected, and in turn, they protected her. For years, her youth unbroken by time, she lived along these lands, unmatched in strength, wit and determination. Her only trouble? She was alone, and being alone can be deadly."

"It was a storm; one she had never seen before in a long time. The hunt she was leading was proving difficult, seeing as how she struggled to bring herself to following a proper set of tracks in the rain." As if understanding her cue, one of the apes stepped out into the ring, a massive elk skull placed over it's head, his hands holding it up by it's hulking antlers. The bone was marked with charcoal and flaming ore, the enamel branching from it's crown adorning great emerald vines. He let out an inhumane shriek and pawed at the ground with his left foot. Krissa grinned and Slate couldn't help but let out a soft hoot as he saw that spark of fire behind her eyes. "Finally, after what felt days of tracking and evident failure, she found herself face-to-face with the beast she so gruelingly followed!" Crouching, the young woman drew her weapon, her shoulders flexing as she prepared to fire. "She fired-" The arrow flew, speeding directly over the heads of many apes, including that of her supposed target. "-but missed the beast, it's burning eyes having instilled a fear in her so deep, that it had sunken straight into her bones. The animal, with a great bellow, charged forth!"

Another bray escaped the ape-elk hybrid, smoke steaming from it's nostrils where the ape exhaled into the chilly night air. With another paw of it's forefoot, the bipedal ape bowled forward, bowing it's enormous rack and preparing to gore Krissa open. The apes observing let out a cry of protest, slapping their hands on the ground or balling their fists and thrusting them up into the air. Thunder growled overhead. Once within distance, the ape bucked it's head up, the young woman hopped, and his massive hands scooped her up into the air. Gracefully, the male beneath ducked his crown, allowing the ravenette to tumble over his back and down onto the ground, where she lay still. Something deep within Slate's chest caused his fingers to ball up into clenched shells, and as the beast turned itself back to inspect the body, he let out a mighty shrill. His pant-hoot broke through the clearing and he raised his father's weapon, the elk turning it's attention toward it's purser. Koba's teeth flashed in the lightning that split overhead, her fur rising instinctively with the burst of testosterone through his entire muscular physique. The apes surrounding let out encouraging hoots.

The beast bowed in submission, but the simian did not allow it to escape. He plunged his spear into the earth beside the mimicker, and the ape, in turn, collapsed onto his side. After slipping from his heavy mask, Rocket disappeared back up into the ranks, leaving the scene to continue to unfold before the colony without interruption. Unbeknownst to Slate, it was Nic who continued the story from where he sat off a ways. "At first he inspected the corpse, searching for the juiciest piece to take back home to his tribe along the water, but then he spotted a delicate hand, and a shining set of bracelets." As Slate ducked down, he mockingly ran a hand over the air, only for his attention to be "caught" by the female laying in a heap off upon the shale beside him. She looked peaceful and sweet, laying there while gripping his waist. "The woman was something he had never seen before, yet he had heard of her presence rumored among his clan. She was fair and delicate; something odd for this part of the woods. How could something so frail live in such a harsh environment on her own? His curiosity getting the best of him, he picked the female up, and -" Slate couldn't miss the smirk cracking across her lips as he scooped her up in his arms.

At least she was having fun. "- he carried her all the way home, back to the waterfall and the cavern. The king took her to his fortress, and allowed her to rest in his bed of moss and down. That night, he slept in the trees."

Krissa was laid gently down and enveloped in nothing but an imaginary blanket. She then continued the story once more. "Her wounds were treated while she was unconscious. She slept for hours, only waking up in the middle of the afternoon." Slowly, she rose to gazed around, a confused look upon her face. Slate sat off a ways, waiting to enter once more. He was becoming enthralled in the moment, the part he was playing becoming something that felt natural. Natural, can you believe it? "It wasn't until she realized what had happened that she began to quickly gather her things. Her bow was neatly set at her side, her bare arm bandaged with leaves and twine. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed her bow, racing for the exit, when-"

Slate stood and cleared the distance between the two, coming to stand inches away from her. She looked deep into his cognac pools, and for a moment the ape's breath hitched, yet he proceeded to keep up with his stone-faced facade. As she continued to speak, her breath stirred across his cheeks. "- the king stopped her dead in her tracks. He glared down at her with his burning eyes, her stubborn pride refusing to let her bow to his steely gaze. 'You are the one that helped me?' she asked him. He replied,"

"Yes," he articulated. He then brushed past her, spear in hand. "You were out in the.. middle of the woods." He turned his eyes over and looked upon her with a vile expression. 'You could have made a meal for any passing predator.'

"Then why not leave me?" she demanded. "The huntress had heard of this ape king. He had been known to rule ruthlessly and take what he wanted whenever he liked. The king hovered and hesitated. Why had he saved her?"

His eyes graced over her lean figure. He took a step forward and sauntered over to her. Casting a hand beneath her chin, he gripped her jaw tightly in his hand. Krissa's words died in her throat. A wicked grin cracked across his lips. "I.. am interested in you," he replied cynically. His eyes were two malicious stones of amber, gleaming with something deeply rooted. Releasing her maxilla from his grasp, he began to stalk around her, examining her every bone. 'I have been since I found you,' he signed, proceeding to explain himself. Their eye-contact returned, her olive optics swimming within his whiskey depths. 'There's something about you.'

Krissa seemed stunned at this point. Slate's toothy grin only widened. A grunt or two escaped the crowd, but otherwise all that filled the gap was the wind in the trees and the crashes of thunder overhead. Clearing her throat, she finally collected herself. "The king was a particular male, a fan of collecting pretty things and keeping them as his own. The huntress though, had caught his attention in a most peculiar way. He had never owned another living being before... but this was a start. She was becoming angry."

"You plan on keeping me here? Like a pet?"

"More than just that," he mused, turning and heading for the exit of the cavern.

"You cannot!"

The ape king turned toward his newly-found possession. 'But I will!' he signed. 'You are mine now, and you will stay that way. Now do as I say and get some rest.'

The story continued on from that point, the constant battle between the two giving away hidden tension between them. It was obvious to those surrounding, who whispered or signed back and forth, wondering what exactly would happen. At one point, the king and she were in the middle of a heated battle, when suddenly his hand came to her throat, earning a squeak from the girl. A voice cried from the crowd in protest, yet he held her tightly, backing her up. Their mouths were inches from one another, Krissa's eyes genuinely filling with confusion and faint flecks of fear. Slate was quickly drawn out of the moment when she breathed his name. His demeanor softened and he released her. The young woman's hand came to her throat where the ghost of his still remained.

"Turning away, the king seemed defeated. They had fought so many other times, so why now was he beginning to go easy on her. Perhaps it had been the pleading in her eyes, or perhaps some simple strange change of heart. The huntress did not know. Shaken, she took to shelter within the king's cave, hoping he would not return that evening and sleep out under the stars..." Krissa rose and turned herself away, retreating toward the massive fallen tree that ran itself along the edge of camp.

As the evening grew older, the story became more intense: the rescue of a young child, the ceremony of her welcome into the clan, the intense dance between the two by the hearth-side. Slate had been unable to take his eyes off her, their bodies coming the closest they had ever come to meeting. They mirrored one another, their hands touching as they gracefully moved in a circle, pinwheeling around one another. She spun and hopped, her smile never ceasing; he in turn became an exact reflection, matching her movements with his own. They danced like the wind and the river, the sky and clouds. Finally, the sizzling heat between them ceased as they pulled away, the war drums coming to a stop.

A battle played out, long and hot, and within the final moments, they were both struck down. The huntress had thrown herself in front of a rival tribe's spear, the weapon having sliced clean through both of them and joining their bodies together. As their physiques collided, Slate caught her and they plunged to the ground, landing with a hard thud. "Gazing into one another's eyes, they took their final breaths... and ceased to move, joining their ancestors in the beyond."

There was a heavy reticence, the rumble of thunder faint yet nonetheless present, as if the clouds above were holding their breath. Slate could feel how her heart hammered against him, their bodies sweltering from the exertion of reenacting such a long and treacherous tale. The throng of onlookers suddenly rose and exploded into enthusiastic cries and wails, all elated by the ending of such an incredible story. The sound brought the pair of actors' heads up to full attention, their eyes meeting in surprise, and then finally with pride. Krissa's left arm had entwined itself with his own, her fingers pressing gently into his upper limb. After a few moments of exchanging small smiles, the ravenette hoisted herself up. Slate followed not far behind, the two rising to their feet.

The chinobo let out an illustrious pant-bark and the two brought their arms high above their heads. To his surprise, Krissa celebrated with own caterwaul of triumph, drawing his attention over in her direction. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat. Their fingers remained laced together for a moment longer and Slate relished in the lingering sensation.

Then she released and they fell away from one another.