Thick morning fog curled around the bases of Etissa's houses, hiding the treetops and tickling Galen's throat as he hurried up the long slope to the town's more affluent quarter. He coughed from the cold, wet air as much as from exertion, but he didn't slow down until he reached a grove of huge chestnut trees that held a sprawling mansion in its collective crown. Up here, apes had still held on to their old way of life - the fog had just hidden the tree houses from view before.
He stopped at the biggest trunk, hands on his knees, until his breath had calmed down and the tickling in his throat had eased. It had been foolish to run all the way, but Zana had been so agitated that he hadn't dared to slow down.
When he straightened to ring for permission to ascend, his gaze fell upon the business sign that had been burned into the bark.
Galen's hand stopped halfway to the rope, hovering in mid-air, as he scanned the symbols again.
And a third time, his nose twitching violently. He cast a quick glance at the buildings sprawling behind the grove.
Galen snatched the rope and pulled so hard at it that it snapped.
He had come here too late - three days too late.