In fact, most apes in the tribe had little memory of those times or seemed eager to put the events behind them. However, one thing they all recalled was how Fur-nose had wounded apes merely by pointing at them with his “thunder-hand.”
None had ever dared to question Goro about what had occurred when he entered the nest or what he had seen, and since the entrance to the lair had disappeared after thunder-hand roared a final time; the tribe had quickly lost interest in the structure. The jungle had grown outward afterward to claim it in layers of leaf and creeper.
Of course, old Baho answered what questions he could, though in this matter he had seemed strangely reticent when in Gazda’s company.
He did say that Fur-nose walked upright and had a naked white skin just like the night ape’s, but he had covered his with the fur and skins of other animals.
The former silverback had said that Fur-nose got his name from the long hairs that grew around his nose and dangled down over his mouth and onto his belly. Baho even pantomimed how the odd creature had looked using a ragged sheet of moss held over his face.
Gazda had seen the tree-nest many times and each time they’d pass, the tribe had instinctively moved with caution, watching and snuffling at the air for scent. Of course most failed to remember why they moved so carefully, and might have grown complacent if some bright-minded one among them had not snorted out Fur-nose’s name or mimicked the action of thunder-hand. It seemed to happen every time.
Then terror would grip the tribe as old memories resurfaced, and soon all the apes were watching warily, ready to bolt for the trees, and wondering if perhaps another of Fur-nose’s kind had come in search for him.
On this visit to the clearing, after an initial panic some blackbacks had grown brave and wished to cross the clearing to investigate the structure, but Goro intervened, telling them that Fur-nose’s lair was no place for apes to go.
Omag eyed the king cautiously then, but submitted to his will with a deep bow, though few who knew the crippled ape could see true obedience in the action. It was a jealous look he cast toward the lair before he moved with the rest of the apes toward the beach.
Gazda had grown more curious with each year, but would never directly disobey the silverback, so he moved with the others close to the strip of sand that ran between the great blue water and the low hills that were home to fruit trees.
The night ape stayed in the shadowed shelter of the forest and kept away from the open beach as the rest of the tribe luxuriated in the sun, either stuffing themselves on fruit, or going with the young ones to play in the small pools of salty water that had been pushed up by the waves and trapped in sandy depressions.
But ever as the day progressed were Gazda’s eyes drawn toward the strange lair that he knew lay beyond the line of trees—and as his eyes were drawn, so were his actions, and before long, he had traveled back east toward the clearing while Goro’s tribe continued to forage southward, the night ape’s mother also caught up as she indulged her sweet-tooth on the ripe fruits and oversized nuts that grew so plentifully in the trees by the water.
Soon, Gazda found that his curiosity had drawn him even farther east until he was swinging through the very trees that ringed Fur-nose’s clearing and his lair. Leaping down from the branches, the night ape gazed across the broad expanse of grasses, poorly lit now as the sun had slipped closer to the trees at Gazda’s back.
The low angle and orangey hue of its rays diminished their effect upon the night ape, and the lengthening shadows filled him with anticipation for the night to come.
A great crescent of darkness shadowed the land closest to him, but still a bright amber glaze lay over the tree-nest and the forest beyond it.
He half-turned toward the distant tribe of apes, but he could not take his eyes away from the odd tree-nest. Wincing, Gazda cast a look at the dark purple sky and then started to jog across the open space with the grasses slapping at his legs.
But he stopped when a strange scent brought him around to face the south. There a peculiar stand of dark trees edged the clearing and grew up the slope away from the long grass.
He moved toward these trees, drawn by the scent; it grew in potency with each step, at once repulsive and intoxicating.
Closer now, he saw that these trees were densely packed, and it was from around their purply trunks that the scent had wafted—an ill smell but a perfume, too, now that he stood before it: decay and flowery sweetness that he could not deny.
Caught between impulses, Gazda crept anxiously toward the thicket, barking and snapping his teeth worriedly as he pondered the trees.
They looked strangely familiar. He had seen others like them with their broad leaves and long seed pods. They were favorite snacks for his tribe. He had never done more than savor the succulent leaves and enjoy their shade while his fellows happily filled themselves to bursting, eating until a green slurry dripped from the corners of their pink mouths.
Yet this grove was different. The trees were similar in shape, but the leaves and seed pods were a darker green with a sickly brown underside. Black branches protruded at odd angles from the distorted trunks that were a purply gray with dusky threads tracing over swollen contours.
Their leaves were large and thick, and allowed little light between the tumorous trunks and none at all near the tangled roots.
Gazda instinctively grunted a warning when he saw that among these black trees were the hulking trunks
