There, he would notice the curious glances from his tribe mates—any who looked upon the long knife or the snake disk were plainly intrigued—and this had alarmed Gazda at first. He had been protective of his, formerly Fur-nose’s, lair and did not want to have to explain how he had entered.
So the night ape would answer any curiosity with the distraction of grooming, though he rejected the inquisitive Omag’s overtures to groom, repulsed by the beast’s mangy hide, and the unsettling way the crippled ape eyed Gazda’s shining fang.
The act itself, whether they were at the Grooming Rock or at some other point along the trail, induced an incredibly calm and suggestive state in the recipient—but in this was Gazda different, also.
His mother had long been the individual most in receipt of this attention, but as others worked up the courage for such an exchange with the night ape, word had spread around the tribe that Gazda’s nimble fingers, when raked through the fur, created a thrilling sense of calm that surpassed the grooming of all others.
Those who felt his touch remembered a stillness accompanied by mental pictures of events that had happened long ago when they were infants, or other cherished memories were conjured up that had long slipped their minds.
This made some recipients uneasy, since few were able to disregard the night ape’s many differences; but it also made them curious. Gazda’s knowledge of their prejudice made him stingy with the talent, and he reserved it for those he considered friends, or for others who were asking questions.
Those went away with bold memories of an inner peace, but no new understanding of where the night ape got the shining fang or the snake rock that hung around his neck.
Gazda’s reluctance was understandable also, for being the bearer of little fur; his participation in the ritual was lopsided in favor of the hairy apes he groomed.
He did enjoy the closeness as any ape would, but he grew bored with it in time, and his quick mind was preoccupied with many questions that could not be answered by simple company.
Likewise, he had come to believe that while the grooming encouraged interdependence and cooperation within the group, it also created dependence, and Gazda wondered if this explained why he could do things alone that the other apes feared.
Gazda often ranged away from the others when he’d had his fill of grooming and interaction, retreating to his tree-nest sanctuary whenever he felt the sheer weight of the tribe closing in around him.
In the daylight hours, he would also use his time for sleep, or to seek out Magnuh to pester if the great beast was near. Admiration for the elephant’s ambush by the great blue water yet lingered, but Gazda also considered it a debt that needed to be repaid.
The night ape was still amazed that the injuries he had sustained when the elephant attacked had left no scars. In fact, all of the marks had disappeared that night by the time he’d finished hungrily hunting down some bushpigs and savagely drinking his fill of their blood.
His rapid healing seemed to be another difference between him and Goro’s tribe, and one that would give him an edge over all the others, so he dared not raise the question. He had not yet seen it in other apes, and Omag’s many obvious scars and wounds suggested that the others did not heal as easily as Gazda did.
If his peers had noticed the ability in the night ape, none had cared to mention it. That was either in deference to their superstitious fears or his mother’s sharp canines that had long ago taught the other apes to mind her son’s privacy.
One day part-way through his tenth year, Gazda came upon a large python high in the trees that was many times his body length and was at its thickest the width of his own waist. The sun was high overhead, and it was at this time that his night strength briefly returned each day, so he fell upon the slippery creature without any hesitation, his long knife held high overhead.
But the wily old serpent managed to catch the night ape’s powerful legs before he could strike, throwing the reckless creature off balance and into crushing loops that pressed against the hard ridges of Gazda’s muscular chest—smothering him.
With his left arm caught and held tight to his body, the startled Gazda began to reconsider his rashness; until he realized that he still had full use of the sinewy arm and hand that held the long knife.
The snake had not recognized the threat.
It had always seemed that the shining blade tilted every struggle in Gazda’s favor, though his natural instincts could be made impetuous by its bitter edge—a logical but dangerous mistake, that would eventually destroy what young Gazda held dearest.
The night ape struck again and again and the snake’s warm blood spurted up Gazda’s arm and across his face, and he thrust his long knife into the muscular flesh until the thick fluid seeped into the tight space between the snake’s and his own smooth skin.
The python panicked finally, hissing and biting at Gazda’s face many times, snapping at his eyes to distract him, but too late did the reptile attempt escape and loosen the coils that were crushing its opponent.
So as the night ape’s limbs came free, he kept hold of the python, crouching over the dying serpent to strike and cut until the long thick body almost fell in two where it died draped across the branches.
Gazda quickly pressed his mouth against the creature’s open flesh and drank its slow blood as he felt his temporary night strength ebbing with the sun’s passage overhead. He lapped at the many red wounds until he was full, and the fluid became like fire in his sluggish veins.
But empowered by victory, he rose to his full height over the corpse as he’d seen Goro and other blackbacks do after battle or
