The night ape panted in frustration upon his perch with sinewy fingers entwined before him.
Gazda would very much like to know this method, for he had a yearning to join with them and be their king, or failing that, take from them a mate with whom he could return to his tribe of apes.
His imagination circled the strangers, compelled to this orbit by the invisible female scent that still clung to his face.
It vexed him, the scent coming to life upon each moist breath of air he took, ever drawing his mind back to this new obsession that caused their naked, supple limbs to slip through his mind.
The poor light within his lair had kept him from viewing the females well, and their moment uncovered had been too brief and startling for him to have memorized.
But he remembered much that made him wonder how their flesh would feel beneath those final flimsy coverings; and he longed to see, so different they were from the she-apes of his tribe.
He wished to explore the sweep of their narrow waists and rounded hips, and gauge the swell of their breasts.
Gazda was king, could he not demand it?
Yet he was not so desperate to know their secrets that he would risk offending them, and in the offense alienate himself with ignorance. Or worse, initiate hostilities that would leave him at a disadvantage.
Or would he? Resisting his curiosity would be difficult, for something previously awakened by their scent still prodded him, provoked him to reckless action. A dark agent within himself still lurked, as the black fog lurked about the sickly grove, as it clung to the ground beneath him demanding he know more.
Or was he dreaming?
Gazda sprinted across the clearing, spurred on by the thrilling snap and tug as long blades of grass whipped his pale thighs. The night noises of the jungle covered the steady thump of his footfalls, and he threw caution aside to cross the distance to the tree-nest fully upright.
He had pondered the females sleeping so near to him until the rain stopped altogether and the night had darkened, even until the black fog had subsided. When the creatures of the forest returned to their nocturnal calls and song, he was thus emboldened to cross the twilight open space and explore the strange invaders again.
The night ape came to a halt beneath the platform. The tree-nest door was shut and the windows were as black as the shadowed eaves.
He trained his sensitive ears upon the structure, drawn by the sonorous rhythm of sleepers. His thoughts drifted to the night apes inside. The small space was alive with the deep snoring of the males, and the echoes within shaped the placement of things before his mind’s eye.
But they were dispelled like spectral dreams as orange sparks shot from the hollow tree atop the roof—startling Gazda.
And a sharp snort told him that a sleeper had come half-awake.
The night ape crouched patiently in the long grass watching random sparks fly at the dark sky until he was sure all of the strangers were asleep again.
Then, Gazda leapt silently to the platform, and raised himself by the window to peer in. His night vision easily pierced the shadows as if a full moon beamed inside, and he saw the old female snoring wetly against the wall while butted up beside her bed was the head of the mattress that the other females shared.
The yellow-haired one shifted beneath the blanket, and Gazda’s breath caught raggedly, constricted by desire.
His vision sharpened even as the darkness deepened around him.
Adrenaline rushed through the night ape and his heart raced like he was on the hunt. His sharp nostrils flared to draw more moist air and steady a growing dizziness; but that only intensified his swoon, for upon the draft were more echoes of the female perfume.
He had to know more about this yellow-haired night ape. Her tribe could be a threat...
But that aggressive reasoning could not hide the truth. Every part of Gazda was aflame with desire, for he had to pierce the mystery of her.
The dark-haired female drew his interest also, and he quivered at the thought of positioning himself close by them or lying between their curled forms as they slept unaware.
Gazda hesitated. He was not himself.
But this was no dream, so what had happened to draw him into peril? And he remembered the music. Was it still at work?
It had been a powerful weapon indeed for him to risk time and again such dangerous proximity to the night ape females and their mates.
But they were... They were like the music, though their scent conjured visions other than leaping, twirling apes.
The yellow-haired female rolled onto her back, and the blanket fell away from her smooth neck.
Gazda pressed his face against the wooden window mesh, snuffling at the air that filtered out, and her scent hammered against him, caused his blood to surge and limbs to shake.
Then, some primeval instinct sprang up to alert the night ape and he ducked low, knowing that the jungle had grown silent and still.
Glancing past the lair, Gazda saw that the air around him had grown thick and dark, and to the left and right the clearing had filled with a groping fog.
Darkness surrounded the structure, lifted black creepers upward to caress the air, and mount the platform behind him.
Beyond he saw the murk followed a twisting course from the southern slope where the grove of black trees brooded, and despite the night, his sharp eyes saw a darker haze amidst those tumorous hulks.
The fog had flooded the clearing, and was rising to come level with the platform, threatening to submerge and drown what lay within.
Gazda choked back fears as the murk flowed over the planks to envelope him by the tree-nest door. A roar assailed his ears within the smoky shroud that he knew to
