Introduction: Dawn’s light peeks through the jungle, awakening a chorus of hoots to signal the start of a harvest. In this latest installment, we join Father Hawk as he emerges from slumber into a jungle buzzing with activity and ancient tradition.
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The distant hooting was like an overhanging apple, suspended from a branch weighing down towards father hawk, but always out of reach in his dream. Slowly, the hooting turned crisper and its bouncing branch stiller. Dreamed images turned half-forgotten as father hawk blinked awake.
A veneer of opalescent light spread over the rocky roof, brightening his father hawk’s eyes followed its path to the lips of the cavern.
The dark green of the forest trees faded to a hazy lighter color as there tips bordered the blue dawn of the morning sky. The sensations of prickling sand under his butt emerged in his morning consciousness. He stood up to shake it off and found that his legs were stiff. Looking down, he saw green wrappings of grass and leaves, twisted, interwoven around areas that ahad once been brittle, injured from his flight from the Shadowlands. His wings had been wrapped as well.
Father hawk turned to look into the darkness of the cavern’s deep interior far behind. Unlike the rest of the cavern ahead of him, the deep interior corridors were just as dark as they’d been last night—— or at least the last night he could remember.
Morning illumination just barely lit the interior corridors of jagged rock, slithering from the cave entrance until it was swallowed by the darkness of the catacombs behind. A narrow shadow of Father Hawk emerged at his feet, rising behind on the earthen floor, but cutting off abruptly.
He’d seen that shadow splayed across the sediments of dirt and pebbles encrusting this dark stone floor. At different lengths and places in the cave.
How long had he been here? No Eagles had wrested him from the cave as they would have from the nests of their homestead amongst their canopy of the Shadowlands to train.
There was another hooting from outside. It was a mellow sound, punctuating the gentle rustlings of the jungle.
Place to place, he traveled. Moving closer to Coyote Rock.
The green leaves outside of the cave glowed as a growing sunrise dappled the thickness of the jungle air. Shafts of sunlight grew warmer as they searched into the cave. The rock lips were illuminated, revealing a pale grey granite. Father Hawk stepped across The Cave floor, stopping at the lip, feeling the warmth of sunlight caress his feathers.
Did he want to reach Coyote Rock? Or was he meant to be somewhere else? Father Hawk sighed, the noise drowned by a sudden swelling of winds. Once it died down, a cacophony of hooting monkeys replaced the din. Frowning, Father Hawk stepped over the lip of the cave, feeling dried grass for the first time since being rescued by the Eagles. The wet, grassy, soil encrusted feel of the earth came into contact with his claws for the first time since being rescued.
The abrasive feel of dirt scraped his claws while the grass caressed his feet with a damp texture. The din of hoots grew louder as the winds died down. Red and orange fruits shot up into the air, followed by yellow bananas. monkeys erupted from the thick jungle canopy. Rust colored creatures, jumping off of thick leaves and branches, hollering at the fruits shooting and cascading over the jungle canopy.
They grabbed at the fruits tossed up into the air, knawing them with their mouths and hands. A monkey hooted in close proximity to Father Hawk, jumping down from a large branch in thickets of trees to the night of the cave. The monkey landed on his long dangling furry arms, his narrower stubby legs hovering above the earth, held out extended across the jungle floor. The monkey immediately tucked his legs in and flipped his body backwards, using his bristling arms to somersault towards Father Hawk.
Flipping his body in the air, he landed on his feet, stamping on the ground next to father hawk and The Cave. Startled father Hock flinched, scooting to the left. Bits of dust and dirt popped from the earth in the wake of the monkeys landing.
“Hoi, hawk!” spoke the monkey in a shrill hoot. Father hawk said nothing, frozen by surprise.“Have you grabbed a fruit?” asked the monkey.
“Grabbed a fruit?” said Father Hawk, looking up at the sky of raining apples, oranges and bananas falling over the jungle trees.
“Surely, you aren’t missing the harvest?” said the monkey. “You’ve been asleep long enough now. You can’t miss the day of the harvest!”
“How long have I been asleep?” asked Father Hawk. “How long have I been in the cave?”
“The monkeys let you rest until the day of the harvest!” shouted the monkey. “The time for feasting has arrived!”
“How long was I resting in The Cave?” repeated Father Hawk, speaking in a more irritated tone.
“You were in The Cave for as long as we were building the great Harvest Log,” the monkey said. He bounced on his toes, padding at the ground with his hands. He was distracted, his interest taken by rustlings coming from the jungle at the border of the grass clearing before father hawk. His head swiveled around as oranges and bananas came whizzing out of the bordering plants from the left and right.
“Wait!” shouted father hawk, holding out a stiff, bandaged wing. The monkey ignored him, stooping over to sniff at the parts of the earth and circling the falling fruit.
“Where have I been for the Huntsman knows how long? Father Hawk complained. as the sun grew brighter, his pensiveness and uncertainty about his whereabouts grew stronger. The memory of the ghastly lake of Shadowspawn and Mother Hawk’s turmoiled predicament still held forth in his mind. It was a fainter, yet still painful memory that contrasted the bright rays of the sun and the cascading colors of fruits.
The monkey turned to look at Father Hawk as he crouched on all fours over a clump of bananas and fruits fall into the left of the clearing.
“You’ve been here since we started building the harvest log and you’re here today once we’ve finished it,” the monkey said. Father Hawk felt his spirits crushed if he had been resting in the cave for as long as the monkeys had been preparing for a harvest, then he would have been away from his quest for the Flower of Life for a long time.
The monkey’s eyes widened as an even larger clump of bananas crashed into the front of the clearing from the tall jungle stalks.
“How long have you been bur—,” started Father Hawk.
He was interrupted by the monkey breaking out into a series of indecipherable hollering hoots:
“OOOOH-AAAAAAAH—”
The monkey’s eyes bulged out and he stood up on his legs. His chest of gray-brown fur splotching his red hide rippled as he jumped up and down in excitement.
“OOOOH-AAAAAAH-EEEEEEEH-OOUII-”
As more fruits rained down from the trees higher in the jungle canopy from all sides, other monkeys dived out of the large leaves overhead, chasing after the fruit, rippling several large pal leaves apart as they crashed into the clearing.
one monkey was tall and gray, landing to the right of the rust colored one, while the other was short and brown, landing to the left of the red monkey.
Stopping short of grabbing the fruits before them, the three monkeys slowly extended their torsos, craning their necks to peer at each other with eyes that stretched with suspicion.
Father Hawk’s heart thudded and he slowly inched backwards on his claws towards the entrance of the cave, anticipating a brawl between the monkeys he didn’t care to find himself caught in. the last one between himself and the shadow spawn snakes had left him asleep in a cave for what seemed like the better part of a whole season. The monkeys slowly shifted their bodies to each side, leaning further on one side, moving in a sluggish circle to the left.
They slowly extended their palms and fingers, elongating their arms and grazing the grass, sifting through its needles so as to gauge and mark their territory.
Father Hawk said nothing, standing still and silent fearing A brawl over the clumps of fruit littered over the ground. He feared for any movement or word of his to trigger the first action of a fight.
He need not worry for the monkeys began in what seemed a ceremonial ritual of hollering like high pitched banshees and jumping up and down.
With each jump, the monkeys opposite them flinched and jerked backwards. Finally, the jumping became so frenetic and frequent that the monkeys stopped responding by shifting their weight or placement of their feet. They stopped reacting to each other’s testings for territory by testing engaging in response. The red monkey grabbed at the apples before him, stuffing them into his mouth letting a few apples in his hand roll off, he grabbed a clump of bananas next to him, lugging them under one arm as the sides of historically furred mouth swelled with the number of apples wedged inside.
The grey colored monkey lunged at the even larger clump of bananas at the front of the clearing. He jumped at them, pulling them back with a hand. The brown and red monkeys raised after the grey monkey and his bananas, the red monkey reaching them first period he tucked the bananas he already held underneath his armpit and running into the gray monkey. Kicked him squarely in the chest, with all the force of motion he could muster
He grabbed the clump of bananas fallen from the gray monkey’s grasp. Jostling the bananas so as not to let their weight tip themselves over, he scrunched them with his fingers, holding them tight under his armpit, before waddling forth, stumbling and letting the bananas dangle by his left hand.
All the while, the brown monkey hollered after the red monkey, chasing him as he bounced across his two feet, running into the forest. Pressing past some small bushes whose thin branches snapped under his weight, he turned to look around as it drooped and sagged over his lower lip.
The grey monkey rolled over on his furry legs, following the brown monkey as they both lunged after the monkey carrying their stolen goods. The red monkey’s eyes bulged, and he blew out his cheeks, sucking the drooping apple further back into his mouth. Turning back around, he waddled further through the forest undergrowth as his monkey pursuers crossed through the bushes, he squatted and jumped in a swift motion, landing on his hind legs, grasping tightly with his fingers as he wobbled. The branch twanged with the vibration of his pressure.
Without turning around, he bent his knees at a slight angle and jumped high into the air, disappearing into the forest. The brown monkey raced after him. He jumped into the air, grabbing a hold of the first branch the red monkey had jumped on. Swinging across the branch, the brown monkey flew into the air after the red monkey.
The grey monkey clambered of trees, using the smaller branches as rungs. There was the sound of a loud thud further in the forest presumably of the red monkey landing on another branch. It was followed by a clamor of rolling fruits smacking against one another.
The red monkey fell onto the forest floor. His crash, the thudding fruits and his flailing scream were heard, but he himself was disappeared within the thickness of the forest. Father hawk winced at the sharp cluster of sounds, imagining how painful the impact must be. He held his breath, waiting to see if he would hear any more of the red monkey. The brown monkey grabbed a hold of the second branch that the brown monkey had landed on. Swinging from it he released himself, shrieking as he plummeted towards the site of the red monkey’s crash. Space before Father Hawk could scrunch his eyes in dreaded anticipation, the shriek of the red monkey emanated from the forest floor, joining the descending shriek of the brown monkey. The grey monkey dropped to the floor as well, joining the fray of shrill shrieking as he did.
Thrashing limbs against leaves and fruits, stamping against the forest dirt.
“OOOOH-AAAH-AAHHH-OOOH-AAH-AH-AHHHH!”
The hollering rose above each other, becoming more and more frantic. The monkeys scuttled away in a chase, the sounds of the earth and foliage rupturing at their feet and their screaming fading into the forest as they did. Father hawk stood dumbfounded, pondering what had just happened. The monkeys, however impulsive and frenetic they were, we’re clearly all heading in the direction of the Harvest.
A newfound stillness seemed to permeate over the forest scene, save for a gentle swing of large green leaves around the trees. Then, more fruits flew out of the canopy, punctuating the slowly swaying cluster of leaves as they dropped at the clearing, rolling to Father Hawk’s feet as he flinched back.
More monkeys tore through the forest canopy, chasing after shooting fruits. They caught them in the air with their mouths and hands diving into the canopy or bounding from tree top to tree top. They all moved to the left, turned towards a distant horizon diagonal to father hawk.
“The harvest begins!” Shouted a big baboon jumping into the air. “The Goings and Happenings from the Huntsman to the coyotes. Here, here! He called out to smaller monkeys popping behind him. “Come here. Food and affairs! Follow to the Harvest! The baboon dived into the canopy, rustling the tree top leaves, and leaving in his wake a series of shrieks and hoots splitting the sky. The furry creatures behind bounded over the treetops, creating a rippling froth of shaking, upturned leaves. They dived after the big-mouthed baboon, in the same direction as the three monkeys fighting over fruit.
The low register of a conch shell blew across the forest, its blare rising high in volume, turning to an echo through the trees.
Father Hawk’s heart thudded. He was closer to Coyote’s Rock, the closest he’d ever been. The animals of nature were coming together unlike they’d ever been before.
Nature could change forever, and the Harvest was the great meeting and feasting of the Animal Kingdom Father Hawk had heard of.
It was all coming together for him to restore the Flower of Life. Would the monkeys let him use it to save his wife? Father Hawk grabbed a clump of bananas with right hand and an apple with another.
Looking around for any hurtling monkeys to avoid, Father Hawk waddled around the clearing. Finding more in his vicinity, he raced into the forest, following clusters of littered fruit splotching the deep green in a brightly colored, half hazard trail.
All the while, hearing hoots and the spongy flattening of his claws on the earth, Father Hawk wondered if he would meet Sunjata and the other Eagles at the Harvest.
G.R. Nanda 