Small, But Important Note 🗒️📌:

😖😣 Translating the chapter "Creation" into english is going about as well, as a difficult birth...

Don't worry, bunnies, I'm still alive - I'm just too absorbed in the writing routine =:•3

⏰🌱 an important detail to warm up the interest: the upcoming chapter of "Creation" will be divided into two equal parts - because events are gaining momentum, and I want to write it out carefully 😚

Now, that I have my first mutual subscriber, I am so grateful💓 And I'm

The way he thuds his fists here! I need more angry Noa 😍

Please! 🥺🤭

REBLOG IF YOU ARE PART OF THE PLANET OF THE APES FANDOM

(Think we need a new headcount.)

"Creation" Chapter 3. Fantasy Vision

A/N: I hope the surprise was a success. This chapter is a bit short, but the next one, I promise, will contain more paragraphs and events

Word count: 3,4K

Warnings: not much detailed descriptions of nudity, voyeurism, brief mentions of murder, death and violence, swear words, a pinch of adult thoughts (a veeeery small pinch, bunnies...)

🎧 Sleeping At Last — As If in a Dream

The splash of troubled waters. The glare of a yawning crescent moon. The chirping of forest dwellers. Everything fades and becomes silent in one second.

Only the curves of your body remain.

A graceful neck – and marks of strangulation. A sloping shoulders – and cuts. A thin waist – and a healed wound. A narrow back – and traces of a whip. A rounded hips – and a fresh scar of a knife wound. Hair falling in waves. Shiny drops running down the skin. Plump lips closed in fear...

Noa can not take his eyes off you. No matter how hard he tries.

Your body is exhausted, but despite all the pain, all the suffering and torment you have endured, your body radiates femininity. A completely different femininity than that of the females in the clan. You are a ringing echo, a blossoming human girl. And of course, you are different from the female chimps. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

Noa intrigued by you.

***

It had already happened when Noa first met people on the way he was taking. It had interested him then, as everything unknown interests him. Then another human girl had disappeared from sight as suddenly as she had appeared, taking a different way. It was regularity. People need other people, they seek out colonies of sane survivors – and they live completely different lives. It had been an accident then, for rethink the present.

And then Noa could not imagine that his path would once again intertwine with the path of the echo. With the path of the human girl who does not disappear, but remains.

Because this human girl cannot go back to people — after all, only a painful, perverted death awaits her there.

It was a measure of coexistence then. To have a shared experience, to say goodbye, to exchange the last important words – and never meet again because of different aspirations. Different truths. Then the echo went to other echoes. Noa hopes she found what she was searching.

But you will not living to next to apes, among echoes like you. You are going to live with apes. That complicates everything.

What are you aspirating for? What is your truth?

Certainly, that you were not aspirating for a life among all that was alien. And Noa has already learned part of your truth from your eloquent, caustic gestures. Noa does not condemn you at all, and even more so, does not feel offended — how else can you defend yourself?

Back then, Noa was solve people out without understanding them – and that interested him as a conundrum. As a task that requires a strategic solution. Now, that interests him in a different way.

All, that Noa knows about you — is your name. Trying to solve you out yields nothing but vague guesses. Maybe it will be like this in days, weeks, months. No answers to questions. No one tactics help get closer to you. Honesty breeds more doubts in you. Acts of kindness make you distance yourself. Care makes you choke on sobs. What did they do to you in the place you managed to escape from? What did those from whom Noa saved you do to you? What did your past do to you?..

Understand you — is to choose the path that leads into the unknown.

Noa tries to understand you, and when he succeeds, even just a little — it is attracting.

It is tempting. And it is impossible to resist.

Your fragility enchants Noa. And it is unlike anything he is ever experienced before.

Noa justifies himself by that he is obliged to protect you, so fragile — and only for this reason is he glued to you, as if sticky resin.

Knowing that you were defenseless against all the dangers lurking in the light and in the shadows, that could break you again, Noa followed you. The whole way you traveled, he protected you. Even if without your knowledge. Otherwise, you would not have allowed it. If you knew that Noa was coming for you, you would again break your voice in begging to leave you, not to touch you, not to look... Not to care...

But who knows, maybe there are other ruthless men hunting for you?

Having learned how vast and multifaceted the world outside his home was, Noa now explored the forests and plains to find lost, dusty knowledge. These were the remains of human science, human creativity, and human culture. A legacy, not worthy of oblivion.

Staying late one evening, Noa saw you. Wounded. Consisting of a scarlet mess and hopeless rags.

You shook and cried, scraping your skin against the thorns of the bush. And the scavengers stalked your trail. Noa had heard everything, all their foul intentions. Noa had heard that they had decided to use you, torture you to death — but before, fulfilling every lustful desire. Not the desires that were part of courtship and mating rituals. Not the desires that offered fidelity and asked for reciprocity, no. Obsessive, base desires. The human curses they spat out, and the way they guffaw as they discussed their cruel pleasures was incomprehensibly vile.

Noa did not believe that someone's mind could be so corrupted. But they reveled in the upcoming reprisal on you — and Noa could not remain idly.

Noa learned how senselessly cruel the world can be, when two monsters threw you into a ravine.

Prepared to attack and heard you fall, Noa scolded himself for hesitating. That, you did not die there from your broken bones right away — miracle.

Attacking them, who mocked you, taking away your almost cut-off life, Noa seemed himself like a monster.

Noa hated himself for the way you saw him that night. Killing two and looking like an sinister angered shadow.

Their dead bodies were a nightmare. Even as they took turns trying to deal Noa the killing blow — he did not want to kill them. He wanted to send them back to where they came from. To keep their smell from being in a place where the soles of their boots should not be. When Noa's palms turned crimson, he regretted.

But if Noa had not done this, he himself now would be dead.

And you would be dead. But first — vulgarized.

Why did they want to abuse you, huddled against the ground and cobblestones with hopelessness frozen in your pupils, so filthily? Noa thinks that killing two scavengers — is not the same as ruining two souls. But the justification still seems insufficient, guilt scratches at him from within.

Guilt that also for that now he is no better than them in your eyes.

That is why, as soon as you regain consciousness, you always recoil from Noa, like from fire. You are afraid of what you saw that night. You are afraid of what you ran away from - and you are afraid of where you ended up. Fear takes root in you.

Something tells Noa — someone from the past you left behind can still cause you irreparable harm.

And you will not be able to save yourself alone, running away and trying to be brave. Your trembling, the tears shining in the corners of your eyes and your racing heartbeat are noticeable even in the short moments when you forget about everything that scares you. But then you go to the lake alone, and the evening falls on the forest like a darkening blanket. What would you do if the events of that ill-fated night were repeat? What would you do if Noa had not followed you like a silent shadow again? You are so improvident, that Noa would like to say everything he thinks to your face.

The determination to do so would have prevailed - if at that second when Noa thought of everything that could happen, you had not hastily started to take off your clothes.

If Noa came to you now, you would dismiss his behavior as instincts.

Taking a deep breath, Noa straightens his back. Every his muscle, every vain tightens.

As you untie the scraps of your shirt, Noa nods to himself, remembering your recent words in the bird pen. This is why you came here. As you pull down the shreds of your pants, leaving the robe he gave you on the sand, Noa approaches on two legs, bristling his fur. To protect you if necessary.

Lying to himself — is shameful and pointless. The excuse Noa gives for every thought that comes to mind, sounds out of place in his own head.

***

Even if there was no need to protect you, even if you were not hurt and could handle it yourself, Noa could have not leave. The grass around Noah’s feet is tangled in the coastal grass — and as much as he wants to turn around, walk down the beaten path, and go back to his usual business, leaving you alone in the darkness, — he cannot leave.

Noa admires you as a graceful, flawless work of art. But the admiration is mixed with something else, unknown and inexpressible, beyond any definition Noa knows, no matter what he tries to find.

When you take off your shirt, soaked in blood and healing ointment — Noa gets on all fours, furrowed his brows and swallows.

So as not to lose balance.

If you turned even an inch, Noa would see your firm breasts.

When you enter the water, Noa cannot control his breathing. The world freezes, everything seems like an unimportant backdrop. You turn around, covering with your hands, looking up at the trees that are growing in a solid wall. Flowing strands of hair fall on your collarbones. The smoothness of your hands and wrists framing your breasts takes the ground under his feet. Standing right beyond the treetops, Noa gasps for air, unable to stop the mad knock that pierces his ribs.

You appear to him absolutely naked.

This should not have happened. Fate is playing tricks on him, like a fool.

Although, why would fate fool Noa, if he had already fooled himself?

Allowing himself to stare too long, Noa chides himself. But it is no use. He cannot move, mesmerized by you. The way the water embraces you — so pure, so vulnerable, — takes Noa back to the moment when he once saw human art celebrating beauty.

Drawned in pencil wonderful woman with a fish tail, holding a baby in her arms. Also with a fish tail, but small. She seems to be looking out of a drawing, overflowing with the joy of motherhood. Peace, care and awe emanate from the graphite strokes. The immaculate beauty of the moment envelops the paper, barely touched by time. The woman holds the child in such a way that the loving, tender touch seems not depicted, but the most that is real...

Must be, people call these amazing entities mermaids.

This is a myth. People have invented many myths. Good and evil. Instruct and absurd. Seductive.

Noa thought, he knew what that word meant. Delightful lie, that could never come true.

But seeing you now, Noa realizes that he was wrong — what else were you now, if not a myth in reality?

As you dive under a boulder, Noa imagines the how the azure scales on your feet and ankles shimmering. How the fins wriggling along the lines of your body. You are surrounded by an aura of magic and innocence. Noa feels like if he takes one more breath — you will immediately dissipate into a mist. That kind that spreads along the surface of the water in the morning.

In the spring, the evenings here are especially long. They come in all shades of pink, red, and gold — before the darkness takes the place of light. Noa sees you shining, wrapped in the rising stars. As bright, as if the brightest hour of day still lasts.

Can Noa look at you like this? Can Noa gaze at you, in the spilled moonlight, like this?

Can Noa admire you?

Swearing under his teeth, Noa curses himself for what he feels.

You circling like an underwater nymph. Hiding, you disappear like a fairytale vision. Noa exhales awe that permeates him to the bones, to the heart and to the pain.

Above the water only your eyes peering into the april twilight.

Noa looks at you from a distance of two outstretched, clasped hands.

You heard a presence. And you were scared.

Looking for a place further away, a place to hide, you swam up to Noa. And you did not realize it yourself. Cause you do not feel his smell.

Breathing in and breathing out, Noah smells you too clearly - you smell like lake coolness, fragrant flowers, and something else... Something that seeps from his nostrils straight into his consciousness. Something that confuses.

Your concern? That, should be, what it is.

You are truly worried that someone will attack you again. Hearing every sound, feeling every touch, you are afraid of new blows and encroachments. But Noa voluntarily laid responsibility for you on his shoulders, how can he not keep you?

No way. From now on, Noa will do anything, to make sure no one dares to even think about breaking you. In any way. No matter what it takes.

You — mermaid, almost caught in a net. You — flower, almost crushed to crumbly. But Noa would not let anyone catch you and crush you. Not for anything.

Noa assures himself, that he does this out of an unspoken duty. Out of principles. Out of justice, after all.

But Noa's thoughts are in mess.

Noa's thoughts are feverish. Like he is gravely ill, like he is dying. Like Noa knows he is going to have a disappointing outcome. And it does. Noa places his hand where his heart beats — where the memory of your weakening touch is still fresh.

To think that, Noa touched you. His hands touched almost every curve of your body — almost everything he is so absorbed in right now. It seems unreal now, when you are seems like a maddening miraculous illusion.

You are beautiful. More beautiful than anyone or anything, that Noa has ever seen.

You are so beautiful, that Noa feels, like in you merged all the things that can inspire veneration.

And if all the thoughts that flashed through Noa's head were obvious, not requiring comprehension and acceptance — with this thought, filling his mind quickly and irrevocably, Noa cannot come to terms. You charmed Noa at your first meeting, despite the circumstances. Covered in blood and dirt, tearful and scared, but trying to fight... Holding you in his arms, Noa saw the fading glow. You no longer hoped for anything, and the glow faded into a lonely ember.

That morning, Noa hoped that the glow emanating from you would not fade, but flare up brighter — but Noa was not prepared for the fact that now, washed from all troubles, healing, you shine even more unbearably beautifully.

Noa close his eyes so you don't blind him, like a fallen, blessed star.

Must not, Noa must not look at you. For now it is only the absorption of your image — but later, Noa is sure, he will think of you something, that he will desire and be ashamed of. Something, that is an inherent part of nature intent.

Noa does not know how to deal with the thoughts of you, that are rushing through him turbulent current.

All that Noa knows — he has to stop right now. Has to turn away, forget about this. Wait until you're dressed — and then follow you, still silently, ensuring safety.

And Noa certainly should not become like a scavenger. After what happened to you, you are free to not let any man touch you. The lingering thoughts about you — that what will only make Noah feel worse right now. He is not even a human man. He is a beast that you will continue to hide from, no matter what your life in your new home is like.

Noa rely — if he does not indulge his own fantasies, everything will remain the same.

World sounds and moves again, but the rhythm is completely different. The dark silence is filled with repercussions and undertones. Noa watches as you peer fearfully into the leaves rustling from his strained breathing.

World will never be the same for Noa again.

Noah curses himself for his uneven thoughts, as your wet hair shines, clinging to your tempting silhouette.

But he is obliged to hide all thoughts more reliably than you hide, again clutching on boulder.

In order not to disturb you, not to make a single unnecessary sound, Noa clenches his jaw. His larynx is constricted with frustration. What is he hoping for? He is an ape. You can hardly trust him. You have absorbed the fear of apes, probably, from the moment of birth. People teach their children to be quiet and afraid, so that they survive this invisible, multi-year struggle. People teach their children both to avoid battles and to fight apes.

Noa feels captivated by your beauty. Losed in this battle. And the strength he used in the fight will not help him free himself from this captivity.

Beauty shimmers in every your fleeting movement, in every flutter of your eyelashes. Beauty is at your fingertips. Beauty is in your voice, when you threaten the thick evening, assuring that you are armed.

If it were anyone else here right now — these would be the last words left on your lips.

From your body and your soul would have be nothing but scraps. You have just literally pointed the hunter to you, the victim.

Listening to the melody of your voice, Noa almost falls to his knees — as if you finished him off, relieving him of torment. Listening to your voice, when it is full of confidence and shoreless, just as the lake enveloping your body is shoreless now, is a blessing for Noa. Unexpecting. In response to any action of Noa you hide, scream and cry — in the short time spent with you, he got used to this and decided that for his ears you will not sound any different.

But you talk to the forest in a way that makes Noa petrified. He would give anything, for you to talk to him like that.

It seems like a dumb wish — Noa would do anything, to you say something to him. At least even just one word, eye to eye.

But what needs to happen, for you do this?

Perhaps, even if snow covers the slopes in the middle of summer — inside you nothing will grow instead of fear. Noa laughs in vexation — no matter what he does, you will always feel like you are a little cornered animal and someone's gaping maw is about to eat you up.

Standing unacceptably close, Noa growls gutturally. Unrecognizable — so that you decide that the forest beast has taken you for prey. So that you think about how to protect yourself on your next willfully foray. Because, obviously, you will go off alone to who knows where more than once.

***

Noa leaves the worst, most menacing thing in him in a growl that resound for miles. He barely recognizes himself, but he continues even more louder — so that you do not guess anything.

You will never know he saw you like this. So enchanting, so pristine.

Because you are destined not for his gaze.

You turn your head back and forth, making splashes. Water hits Noa's bristling fur, sobering him up. Silently retreating step by step, Noa thinks, this is conveniently. Otherwise, he was not have been able to cope with the unknown feeling you have kindled in him. He walks away to the glade, where the flower petals shared with you their scent.

The leaves, surrounding the lake, no longer rustle.

***

From the thundering growl you afraid to drop your heart to the bottom of the lake. You count the seconds, until the inhuman noise stops. You wait - and dive into the depths to reach the shore unnoticed.

At first, heard breathing among the trees, you thought — they has come to kill you.

Damn bastards of the settlement. When you were a child newly trapped in their rusty dungeon, they punish with death a woman who had climbed to the surface. Said she was infected, cursed by demons swarming the surface, that she would bring death to all unless she was gotten rid of. Shot her. Carried on, as nothing had happened, their fanatical blathering, as if it were the for edification.

That terrible event deprived you of any desire to escape. But you kept inside you your only truth.

They lied and jeered. Hell was there. Find a way out was impossible.

You would have accepted your fate sooner or later, like everyone else living here. If they hadn't done the same thing, that you hated them for, once again. When you were so small you could barely pronounce your own name — you could't help your blood mother and father. And even as an adult, you couldn't have time to save your foster mother and father — there no way you could have overtake two fired from a pistol bullets.

But you were able to find weapons there, where you weren't allowed to enter without order.

You were able to kill one of them.

You were able to escape so far.

If it were them — you would have to pray to God, that death would take you before they could carry out the punishment, that awaits you for every broken rule.

But when the growl rang out, you felt that anxiety dripping from you along with the water.

Anything more stupid, than rejoicing at the growl of a hungry beast, you can't even imagine.

But they are cowards. You've heard a lot of their dead drunk talk while exploring the dungeon corridors. They know where the prey is found, and where the predators is found. And they've never hunted where they could be attacked by those who rightfully own the land above. It means, they sure don't turn up over here.

So, whoever made that deafening roar — you thanked fate.

Approach the shore, you reach out to the light-blue fabric to quickly put it on and tie it around yourself. All that remains is to wash the dirty rags, which you do in a hurry.

Still, Noa asked you to come back before dark.

Darkness descended the forest without warning. Your tank top and shorts are drying right on you. From barely squizzed shirt, that you've wore over the thin fabric, dripping drops. The wind is pulling your hair in all directions, heralding a cold night to come.

Along the way, you look back to wish the flowers survive the badweather.

The path leads you to the apes's huts. To your hut, where you have to settle in and tidy up. The dwellings are visible, hanging lights show the way. All the work for today is done, everyone is probably heading to the nests. You yawn.

You look ahead. The routine arranged by the apes is boiling, just as it was when you came here as a stranger. Surely, you didn't hallucinated, due to wounds, exhaustion and cold exposure, and life here flows peacefully?..

You turn carefully to tap your look at the doe with her little deer. They seem as like hugging.

They not afraid of you, not at all.

They see you, and they don't hide in the forest, as you take a few short steps toward them. You stretch out an open hand, and with your fingertips you stroke the doe's honey-brown fur. You know from books, that deer are not easy to see. They wary and unnoticeable. Why then does this forest mother like speak to you about something? Her dark eyes look at you and the top of the fawn's head. She allows you to caress her baby, and it cuddles into your palm.

You smile, transforming all yourself into a carefulness, so as not to disturb them. You would stay in this moment forever, standing next to the doe and fawn.

It's similar to what were taken away from you twice family warmth.

The glade illuminating, as if it were a sunny morning. Embracing you in-deer maneer, the mother and child leave. You know for some reason, that you will see them again — after all forward there are many sunsets and sunrises.

Seeing your hut, you walk faster.

Questions that were scurrying through your head this morning are still scurrying. The clan's abutments still seem strange to you, because you yet know almost nothing. You are healthy, but still weak. But now you feel a warming hope.

And in any case, you cross the threshold of a new home, thinking not about yesterday, but about tomorrow.

❗ Bunnies, it's unfortunate, but I can't write in a hurry...

And I also really want to spend New Year's Eve with my family. The chapter will be written next year. I promise that I will try my best to live up to your expectations.

And yes, here is that ai fragment of y/n and lil bunny that I mentioned earlier - so that at least y'all have something from me as a gift and compensation 🫶🩷

"Creation" Chapter 1. A scream that almost sounded

A/N: It was difficult in a good way. No more, no less

Word count: 4,2K

Warnings: Brief descriptions of murder and death, mentions of blood and injuries, swear words, child kidnapping, hints of rape and sexual harrasment (oh Jesus...)

🎧 Senn — Lone Wanderer

The wind blows the twittering of birds across the endless plain. Its gusts are benevolent, soft - but instead of bird trills, you, having woken up, hear heart-rending cries.

The ones you heard every day for almost a twelve years.

The ones in which you yourself risked losing your voice very soon.

Still not daring to open your eyes, you involuntarily wrap your arms around Noa again - after all, you have nothing else to grab onto except him. You exhale a scream that almost sounded.

If you weren't sitting in the saddle now, you would curl up into a small, unnoticeable ball.

Like that morning.

***

It was not yet dawn when they burst into your home on a hill that was probably now trampled. A dozen men in dirty uniforms, weapons at the ready. They killed your silent mother, who loved you unconditionally - and her every gesture became a voice in your ears. They killed your fearless father, who protected you with strength and wisdom - and his every word became a silent anger flowing through your veins.

But then you were too young to see your parents die. You were too young to fight.

Running to the attic, closing your eyes and curling up in a ball in the closet, in a pile of clothes - all you could do while strangers mockingly talked to the bodies of your parents.

Just a few minutes ago they were alive... And now they were getting kicked by dirty soles.

A single sob gave them away where you were hiding. The wooden closet door shattered into splinters. You shuddered as they told you in a disgusting chorus that you had a cute face. One of them twisted your arms and you burst into tears. He covered your mouth with his cruel palm and blindfolded you, ordering you to be obedient.

Even then you wanted to bite off the rough fingers that touched you.

Tied up tightly, you shuddered as one of them, then another, scooped you up and put you down in God knows where. You knew from the sound of the wheels on the gravel and embankment that it was a cart. It was impossible to tell where they were taking you. You had lost the way to the house where the memory of all the good things that had happened to you. And that made tears roll down your cheeks again. But you cried silently, so that they wouldn't hear.

In the dungeon, the blindfold was removed from your eyes - but you saw nothing more. Only blood and the glassy eyes of your parents.

There you were given to people for training.

But these people, contrary to the laws, became attached to you. And were as kind to you as possible. Your foster mother taught you to adapt to the present and the future, whatever it might be. Your foster father taught you to use your inquisitive mind and defend yourself from encroachment.

After a few months, you were given work - you sewed and patched clothes in a cramped room.

And everything you were taught came in handy.

The times of day and seasons here, many meters underground, were indistinguishable. And only by the holidays marked on the distorted calendars nailed to the walls, you could count how old you were.

The numbers were becoming increasingly frightening. Not only you. There were many such stolen girls here.

Here, working as assistants, you had no time for chirping girlish conversations. You had no time for friendship. If you managed to talk to girls like you, it was only about the danger lurking around every corner. Older and younger than you - they were all afraid of the blood that appeared on their clothes every month.

It meant only one thing - sufficient "ripeness". That's what they called it. Then they took the girls downstairs, locked them there, tied them up and raped them. Sometimes they involved their sons in this. Sometimes the girls they abused were their daughters who had been born and grown up here. When you found out about this by accident, you were bitterly glad that you had no relatives in this decaying pit.

They glorified the human race, they wanted to revive God's plan. They shouted about it through megaphones. The screams coming from below were unbearable... You don't know a single prayer, but you know - it was blasphemy.

It was Hell, depriving you of reason and dreams.

The first time you saw the red stain spreading on your skirt, you wanted to cry. But you couldn't cry. Just as you couldn't go up to the blessed world. Just as you couldn't refuse food that looked like scabs. Just as you couldn't know too much. Just as you couldn't find a way out of the iron leper box.

Having propped up the door of the sewing closet with a wooden box, you burst into tears from helplessness in the face of your foreseeable future. You prayed that your tears would remain among the needle cases and junk. But, damn, one of them heard and swung the door open.

He didn't do anything then. He just remarked on how pretty you were when you cried. You wanted to bite off his omnipresent ears.

Months and years now dragged on like centuries. They had long ago noticed you.

They circled around you like a pack. Only drool did not drip from their beards. It was scary to work and return to the assigned room, through the hooting and darkness.

When one of them sniffed you lustfully, lifted the hem of your dress and grabbed your thigh like a meaty game - you pierced his prickly, bristly cheek with a needle. Blows rained down on you.

From now on, when you heard the approaching shuffling of boots, you hid anywhere.

Under the bed, among the hanging, matted sheets. Or in the kitchen, among the pots filled with stinking brew. Or among the things that their previous owners would no longer use... Sometimes it helped against the peals of men anger. Sometimes - no.

Then only running away was your salvation.

The dungeon was a labyrinth, and as you ran away, you remembered, studied each corridor. The flickering dim light. The turns leading to nowhere. The room, from top to bottom filled with sharp objects - suspiciously clean among everything that was happening in every corner.

They found you from everywhere. But they wouldn't look for you there. Knowing their intentions, your foster mother told you about this room. She worked there with several other women - those who God did not give their own children. Those who had a lot of time for this frightening place that smelled of caustic alcohol and poisonous solutions. Children conceived on the lower floor were born there. Wounds, burns, suppurations were treated there. And too severe beatings. Entering there without orders was strictly prohibited. You understood what would happen to her if you violated this prohibition. You avoided this room.

Until the ill-fated day that crossed out everything. That day they chose you. They told your foster parents about it. And killed them, having eloquently thanked them before that for their contribution to the development of the commune.

They, these inhuman people, took away your childhood. Growing up. Learning. Twilight, glare. Joy. They took away the last thing from you.

You had nothing to lose. Except for your damn virginity, which they decided to feast on without haste. Dumb boors. You won't give it to them.

The accumulated anger that filled you to the brim finally spilled out.

Reaching the glass room was a miracle. Opening a similar glass cabinet and taking out scissors from there - not at all like the ones you used to cut the tough fibrous fabric - was a gift. Stabbing one of them to death was too insignificant. Yes, it was he who sniffed you, letting out dirty jokes. But it was not he who squeezed your body until you had bruises, who pulled the knot of the bandage over your eyes. It was not he who killed everyone you loved.

Confused tracks in the crooked corridors, you did not even notice how a sharpened kitchen knife pierced your shoulder. You did not notice how you bit into someone else's slimy skin with a squeal. You did not notice how you spat out someone else's disgusting meat and rushed into battle with a vengeance.

Desire to get to the surface was stronger than you yourself then...

***

Inside, from the throat to the stomach, it’s as if small bones are scattered, scraps of food scraping the insides - it’s so painful... You simply fell asleep from the shallow but numerous wounds eating you alive - but it’s as if you’ve returned back to the dungeon. Into the darkness.

From the tormenting memories, you almost fall off the slowly walking horse. Your stomach is twisted with a frightened spasm, horror crawls up your spine. Noa palm catches your slipped fingers at the very moment when you remember that now you will not return to the dungeon.

You convince yourself that this will never happen again, and now the past can find a loophole to you only in restless dreams - and you don’t trust your own convictions.

The horses walk slower. So, the clan, scraps of conversations about which you heard, is already nearby. Many dragonflies with bright wings flutter near the lake spilling in the shadow.  Before, you had only seen them in a colourless, time-worn children's book - you had looked at the pictures so often that the pages had turned to dust under your curious touch. Now these strange insects are so close, and you are enchanted by their shimmering dance.

The apes are talking about you again. Worried about you. They don't say a single bad word about you. You try to read between the lines - but there is no hidden meaning in their actions. And you don't know what to think.

"What will the elders say? If they... refuse?" listening to Anaya's words, you understand that this is indeed an important question.

"But who else can... help this echo? And if so... What will we do?" Soona answers him, looking at you with compassion.

"Even if they refuse her to live... among us... she needs to be cured. She needs food. Clothes. Weapon" Noa's voice is quiet, but determined. You do not understand his actions at all. "To avoid being caught by them. To survive here"

An echo glides across the crystal water of the lake.

You, now an echo too, have many questions in your head. And they torture.

There must be more people nearby. Lost and wandering in the pouring rain, you came across huts and asked for help. You knocked on boarded-up windows, peered into the huts inside. You screamed at the top of your voice, you begged. No one helped. But these people are not your family. You are a stranger on this earth, so why would these people should let you in?..

Are all people like this?.. And why then did you so tirelessly cherish the hope of someday meeting people better than those who keep prisoners locked up by force and public humiliation?

What would have happened to your body and soul if you hadn't managed to escape? If they had caught you, knocked out your teeth, dragged you downstairs and tied you up? Or if death at their hands, soaked in the blood of so many innocents, had overtaken you in the ravine?.. They wouldn't have been averse to having fun with you anyway. You know that about them, too. You don't need the answers to these questions anymore.

After all, neither your lost tracks, nor the drops of yesterday's rain, nor the blood that flowed down the stones mean anything anymore. The earth has absorbed everything.

These two of them who took both your families set out to chase you. The realization that Noa killed them gives birth to gratitude in your soul. Now the impossibility of revenge will not gnaw you from the inside.

But what has now been decided by the forces of nature,

who have left you alive?

What will happen where you are destined to end up? Surely, grins and reproaches? Primal hatred directed at you? Mistrust, contempt? What use could you possibly be to the apes? Do they treat people as human stories say? .. What if this salvation is just a deception, akin to human lies? Besides, now you, almost mute, dirty and frightened, resemble an animal much more than they do. So why shouldn't they eat you, their easy-to-catch prey? Or stuff you? ..

Or why shouldn't they have fun with you?.. Carnivorously. Carnally.

Just as the guards of the dungeon from which you escaped straight into the monkey's paws would have been amused.

And now, no matter how hard you clench your hands into fists, you will not be able to break free.

You are shaking as if the wind has become winter.

Noa's calloused fingers place your twitching hand almost at his heart, just a little higher and to the right. Broad shoulders rise from your coldered breath.

All this, his words and movements, seems like... a desire to protect you? But you are a human. People and apes have been feuding for so long that no one can answer how the feud began. But it is ineradicable. So why does he need you not to get hurt or trampled?

Be that as it may, you do not trust anyone or anything.

The fur on Noa's back - where you press your scratched cheek again - is wet. Probably because your temperature has risen. You don't know why he helped you. You are afraid of him no less than the men in the hopeless settlement. You look at him with gratitude, with a doubt tearing your throat... You want to believe him. Because there is no one else to trust in the world that you are getting to know anew. But you will not ask him questions that soak you with fear and foreboding. Just as you will not be able to tell him words of gratitude.

You are hot. And you are overcome by an unbearable thirst again.

The lake, reflecting the sun's rays, is left behind, replaced by a meadow, deciduous trees and fruit-bearing bushes. The berries that you tasted only in your too-short-lived childhood smell sweet. Has their taste changed as much as you have changed over the past years?

Bees scurry around, and their buzzing calms your restless thoughts.

Somewhere in the distance, where Noa directs a long glance, the wings of iron birds are visible.

They are planes, it seems. Old, rusty, forgotten. You have seen them only once. Blueprints on worn, yellowed paper. Then they were like fiction — alien, huge structures that could touch the clouds. And now these piles of metal, embraced by ivy, are like an extension of the forest. Noa looks at them as if they might one day fly again.

How long have they been chained to these ruins? Have they flown over other distant lands?

What would it be like to soar into the sky?..

You are shaking. Everything you see - trees, grass, and the sun hanging somewhere impossibly high - floats and spins. Your mouth feels like it is full of hot sand.

The glitter of dew. You think it looks like gemstones.

You're swaying from side to side, and you're clutching the fur on Noa's shoulder with cottony fingers. It's not helping at all.

Noa huffs as he realizes you might fall again. He squeezes your fingers tighter, now on the very spot where you can feel the unwavering thump. Warm blood still seeping from your hand is spreading across his chest.

If you could think of anything other than the dew scattered beneath your feet, you'd try to figure out — was it any different from a human's, beating in ape's heart?..

Consciousness is slowly returning to you. The unknown world, stretching for many miles, stops spinning.

Through the sweat running down your forehead and the tangled hair stuck to your face, you peer at each thread of the huge canvas above the horizon. With delight, trepidation and awe.

And with unspoken fear. With your last breath, you are still thinking - where to go if the apes rightly decide that you have no place among them? And how to escape if the apes decide to deal with you?.. But nothing betrays the apes's bloodthirstiness that you have heard so much and so often about.

You are just a stone's throw away from buildings you have never seen before.

Gusts of wind blow around you, embracing you. Morning flows into day, the forest flows into a built-up village humming with routine.

The beaten path along which the apes take you leads to surprisingly well-equipped dwellings, towering above the earth heated by midday. And these dwellings are not at all like the walls, floors and bars from which you emerged. There are no cages and tools designed to force submission, and there is no torture chamber.

Families live here. And these families are not molded from circumstances, as if from clay. These families — are blood families. Kinship among those who talk and those who are silent, imperceptible to the eye. It feels different.

Here the industry is seething, here and there the noise is heard. Here is unity and freedom.

Houses on the surface, life on the surface, among the clean air and the many-faced sky seems incredible...

A smile touches the corners of your lips. Your palm reaches out to outline the place in front of your eyes - but then falls back, squeezing the wool on Noa's elbow in the approaching fever.

"Echo needs help getting down... to the ground" Noa assures, freeing his long arm from your weak grip and dismounting.

His hands reach for your waist to help, and you squeal in protest and dodge.

"Is something... wrong?" Soona, who is walking ahead, turns around worriedly.

"I can do it myself" you say hesitantly in response, stroking the horse's mane.  "I don't need his help"

When your body was overwhelmed by the pain that clouded your consciousness, Noa had already done so, helping you to mount. And you, unconscious, held on to him for many hours on the road. Feeling him so close was not scary. It was necessary. Like grasping at a straw. But after a terrible dream, you don't want him to touch you... No, not now.

Stepping onto the ground from the back of a snorting horse seems easy to you. But without the slightest idea of ​​​​how to do it, you fail.

Anaya hides in one of the dwellings when Noa gives him a sign that seems vaguely familiar to you. Soona remains nearby, ready to help you - but she is unlikely to be strong enough to cope with this.

The sign language of the apes differs from the one you are used to only slightly, and with the help of this language you repeat that you will manage without help.

Without support, you risk flying like a tiny leaf from a branch. You grab the reins and the horse's mane in vain attempts to get out of the saddle. The horse kicks. The cape you're sitting on slips - and you, trying so hard, almost fall backwards.

Stuck in the stirrup, you don't even have time to squeak - Noa catches you, when you almost hitting the ground with your shoulder blades. He holds you almost the same way as when you were exhausted in his palms, in the middle of the plain.

"I told you. You need help" A disgruntled growl escapes from his chest.

Only now, as Noa releases you, your bare, punctured feet finally meeting the ground, you can understand what in the stories about the apes were right.

Is it how different they are in their wild nature. And their size.

Even Soona is taller than you by several inches. Not to mention Noa, towering over you like a mountain range. The wind picks up the many voices and the rattling of abandoned work. The apes emerge from their homes and stop working. Their humming and whispering makes you uncomfortable. The wounds immediately remind you of themselves with a dull ache. You look through the crowd at the neatly laid roofs, bathed in rays of sunlight.

Noa lets out a wheeze and hides you behind his broad shoulders. He asks you to walk beside him and be quiet. You follow him without complaint, and because of his furry back you can hardly see anything - except for the feathers in the braided bracelet on his forearm, shimmering in shades of blue.

Step by step, you make out the expressions on the apes's faces. Some of them are confused, some do not hide their irritation. You see a lot, but you do not see malice. Only this calms you down when you stop at a spacious structure and dozens of monkeys look at you with an unspoken question and a respectful bow, directed straight at Noa.

Now you understand that he must be the leader of this clan.

And his action is not presumptuously, but magnanimous.

An approaching hostile sounds.  Noa assumes an obviously protective pose, and you press yourself into the fur on his shoulder again. This time consciously. After all, it seems that you were wrong not to see the malice.

"What is this? Another echo?.." the voice of a stocky male chimpanzee is heard, drawing level with Noa and casting an appraising glance at you. There is something unkind in it. "Did the animals batter her? Or did someone... play with the curiosity?"

"Let her go back... to the pasture"  the female picks up his intonation, letting out a nasty laugh. She looks like a hanger-on, not a companion.

"True" another male grins, clearly younger and trying to assert himself in this way. "There... is her place!"

They hardly guess, reveling in their slander, but for you, everything they spew — pointless. You were never part of the whole. You shattered into pieces, long ago. You became a fragment with broken edges.

That's why there is no place for you anywhere.

A shirt, sticky with rain, blood and weeds, torn at the seams - your only refuge.

"...She swallowed her tongue?" you hear, insulting and goading, somewhere in the distance.

Soona, standing next to you, gasps at the insolence of her fellows. They laugh at your helplessness, continuing to curse. You regret that you cannot lash them with curses now.

Listening to their rumble, Noa straightens his back. You are almost invisible behind him.

"This echo is wounded. By other echoes. They wanted to... play. They lose" After Noa's short and clear words, bewilderment is visible in the apes's eyes. Baring his fangs, he finishes. "And she will not return... to the pasture. She will graze here"

The phrase is sharp. Noa stands his ground, his nostrils flaring menacingly. This, of course, silences the ill-wishers. But you feel the sediment prickling.

What if they'll treat you like a thing here too?..

You can hardly breathe. The lead of a frightening assumption presses on your collarbones. You take a step back from Noa, upset and ready to break from the despair that has washed over you. It takes even more effort not to recoil from Noa when he turns and leans towards you. He had to say this to stop the vile discussion.

His green eyes apologize to you for what he said.

Something in his piercing gaze tells you to trust. It speaks louder than his answer to the clan, who doesn't stops talking and doesn't notice.

Five baby-chimps run up to you, distracted from their game of tag.

The first thing you do — is sit down so that you are the same height as the children who are asking you questions. They reach out to you, and the pain that has been increasing with each passing second becomes unimportant. Soona follows your lead, her actions clearly supportive. The growing rebellious tension disappears, as does the hubbub that has surrounded you from all sides.

Seeing that you are kind to the clan's most valuable treasure, the apes stop arguing and return to their work. Only the adults who are looking after the little ones do not leave.

Even now, laughing, Noa is still ready to rush into battle.

The children are impressed, but they don't understand what is happening - and you are undoubtedly happy of their attack. It seems like a serene meadow in the chaos that is playing with your fate.

"Are you hurt?" a very small boy babbles, tilting his head to the side. You nod.

"What happened to you?" a girl who looks like this little one like two peas in a pod timidly puts her hand on your wounded shoulder.

"This echo fought... With opponents and the forest" Soona tells the curious cubs.

"Did you get a scar in battle?" an older boy looks at you with surprise.

"This battle could have been my last..." you begin your story like an instructive fairytale. "But the journey was worth it"

"So who hurt you?" seeing the sparkle of tears in your eyes, the liveliest boy asks, putting his hands on his hips importantly. "Do you want me to protect you?"

"You already have a protector, right?" a smart, dark-eyed girl looks at you and Noa with mischief.

Not expecting this, Noa freezes. He looks at you, captured by the curious crowd. He still shields you with his back and his presence. He smiles indulgently - which you can't help but notice. He is confused. But you are not taken surprise by spontaneity, but are warmed.

"Yes, and he is very brave" you agree with the girl, expressing gratitude to Noa at least in this way.

"So who did the Master of Birds save you from?" everyone is curious in one ringing voice.

When Noa sits down next to you, his weight almost touching yours for the umpteenth time in the day that has just begun, you don't move away.

"From evil, cunning... predators" playing along with the fictional plot, Noa ruffles the children's heads.

Staying with you and naive chatter, Noa still helps you tell the fascinating truth. Having plopped down nearby and forcing Soona to snort good-naturedly, Anaya returns to the company.

While you are enthusiastically answering the children's questions, you do not immediately notice female chimpanzee in venerable years approaching you. Only when Noa raises her head, still sitting on the ground, do you see that everyone is moving aside. Her robe, like the feathers indicating Noa's dominant status, is a deep blue.

"Time goes by... And you, my son, remain the same" hearing both reproach and pride in her words, you cannot help but look down.

Who else but parents could say that?..

Noa rises with a gesture that you will not confuse with anything - this is how you asked your blood mother for advice.

The children say polite greetings, holding on to you like tenacious little crabs. You don't know what to say - and cannot make a single sound.

"Nobility is sometimes worse than vices" sadness sounds in the voice of another, an elderly female chimpanzee with a wooden cane. "With her, to our homes comes... troubles. Again."

"...Is she hiding something?.." the young female asks impatiently, taking her two cubs away from you. The male calms her down in a way that husbands never calmed wives in a settlement unfamiliar to you.

The unknown frightens them as much as it frightens you. It hovers in the dying wind and the sparks from the fire crackling in the distance.

Squinting from the sun and your exhausted appearance, Noa's mother sighs.

"This soul is innocent" she looks at, it seems, every scar and every aspiration. "Come here, child... Your path has been... thorny. You need to rest"

"Thanks..." you whisper from the bottom of your heart, when her palm touches your burning forehead.

Taking Noa's outstretched hand, you rise. Your hideously cut thigh, under the equally cut leg of your trousers, pierces with pain. You whining through cracked lips. The children don't want to let you go, but you promise that very soon you will tell them an even more fascinating story.

The smell of smoking fish tickles your nose. Everything tilts and fades...

***

You dream of water dripping from holes in the basement pipes - rusty, almost red. Streams flow down the cobblestones from grinning skulls.

Their eye sockets are empty. Worms have settled in their decaying bodies, laying larvae. Their hands reach out to you. They strangle you, they tear your dress. Their toothless mouths shower you with stench and obscenities...

***

Waking up in the hut, you scream. Indistinguishable from the animal cries that echo in the twilight. Your eyes are filled with unshed tears. Dreams have been cruel to you for as long as you can remember. The dreams of future nights, you are sure, will be merciless.

And there is no way to escape this.

The bed you slept in resembles a perch. Someone is scurrying around at the head of the bed.

The woven nest creaks as you jump up, drawing your knees up to your cheeks. You are not wearing a shirt - only a T-shirt, trousers, and a viscous ointment applied to your exhausted body. And animal skins, serving as a blanket.

Turning around at the noise, you see Noa with two bowls in his palms. He places them closer to you, and you pull the blanket up to your neck. The contents of the bowls smell pleasant. In one of them the same ointment that burns and heals your injuries. In the other a lake fish, large and ruddy. Your stomach rumbles. You forgot about hunger - and now hunger is devouring you.

When Noa's large palm reaches for the blanket, you crawl away to the edge of the nest in panic.

"When they were treating your wounds, I saw you without... this" Noa admits, taking out your shirt among other things. "It will hurt, inside... Take that"

Pointing to the thin sky-blue robe, Noa explains with a gesture that it will be safer this way. Then he insistently brings the bowl with the fish to your closed lips.

You coudn't refuse food. You learned this rule over the years of life on a leash - a hearty meal was a reward for following commands and orders, and starvation was a punishment for disobedience.

You was only punished. So you use what you learned from your foster mother.

The fish in the bowl dissolves into a scent in a matter of moments. And only now do you respond with gestures that it would be safer if Noa left your assigned dwelling the same way he came. You don't believe in the security provided. You admit that you're scared. And you ask if Noa has taken you in as a curiosity pet?..

If you said it out loud, you would cover your mouth with both hands in shame.

Noa slouches and turns to go outside. His steps are sharp. The wheezing in his heaving chest is low and abrupt. You look at his back, expecting anger and insults. He stops, looking at you and the untouched robe.

"To heal, an echo needs sleep... A lot" is all Noa says before leaving the hut.

You scold yourself. You admire the fabric of the robe flowing between your fingertips in the dim light.

The sparkling hanging lights lull you to sleep. All you want to do — lay down, as like fetuses laying in wombs, and forget about all the nightmares you've experienced in reality or in broken dreams. But you, without closing your eyes, stare at the glow.

"Creation" Chapter 2. Moment that stretching out for minutes

A/N: I have terrible insomnia - but I decided to turn it to my advantage and publish now

Word count: 3,9K

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood and injuries, molestation, corpses and death, post-traumatic stress, short description of nudity, swear words and self-harm (but there mostly safe)

🎧 Jurrivh — Forever

The sun, making way through the hut, beats on your temples. It is stuffy under the blanket of skins. The nest is heated and disturbed — you were tossing and turning in your sleep as if in a battle.

Slimy dreams of encroachments on you. There is no getting rid of it. It has been going on for years, and these memories will follow you, follow your footprints and squeeze the strength out of you.

From the overwhelming despair you want to scream, to tear your voice until it is hoarse, to choke in powerless, unceasing sobs — you cannot forget your past and cannot know your future in advance. You do not know how to live in the present. Without regrets, without disappointments and without fear. Tracks of tears cut your cheeks, flow to your lips.

You can't cry! — you remind yourself of one of the damned rules.

You can't cry here, because you don't trust this place. Because you don't trust any place you'll ever find yourself. And because you don't have faith in the best, no matter what.

You wipe away the tears that are pouring down your face — and almost laugh from the relief that has come all at once. Not a single cut on your face or hands stings from the salt.

You look at yourself, look at the layers of ointment applied to your tortured skin — to understand where the excruciating pain inflicted by the tormentors has evaporated. After all, only the itching scattered across the body reminds you of it.

And the scars that heal surprisingly quickly.

On your thigh, mutilated by a knife — also healed, but festering — over the shreds of your trousers, there is a bandage. Neat and clean. Made exactly like your blood mother did, when you played and mutilated yourself. And exactly like your foster mother did, when she treated your wounds in a glass room smelling of medicine... You put your palm on the bandage and drive the memories away. You pray that the tears rolling down your chin will dry quick.  And so that these memories return in dreams, and not others.

The fabric of your pants is no longer good for anything. You tear off the legs, above the knees, without regret. The threads crack. The scraps of fabric that remain on you now resemble not clothes, but the underwear that is usually hidden under that.

But even if you leave everything as is, your soaking wet, mud-stained clothes were already underwear. Rags. The kind that men tore off screaming, beaten girls and women where you died.

Your eyes dart to the corners.

Your eyes search, where is something to hide the body parts that the men in the settlement hunted?..

And will this hunt continue here?..

After all, you are sure they are all the same.

You feel naked when the evening wind seeps into the hut and blows on your unprotected shoulders and legs. You hug yourself. Your gaze falls on the sky spread out at arm's length.

The sky-blue robe Noa left behind is first in your hands as you sit at the head of the bed — and then, the sky-blue robe is on your body, covering your bare skin and healing injuries.

Stepping onto the floor with bare feet, you smile blissfully — your legs gain strength. The mark of the knife is still purple on you, but you can straighten your back and look forward. And not shake with anxiety.

The fabric lies along the hollows of your collarbones and neck.

The heavenly surface envelops you. It feels like calm. A silent question freezes in your throat — can you trust this feeling?

The fabric is enough to hide your boobs, visible through the shirt, from the eyes of the clan males. The curves of your hips and knees are also hidden in the falling blue.

Your human nature is also hidden, albeit only partially.

Flowing and half-transparent, this robe gives you a semblance of confidence — it is similar to what covers the shoulders of Noa's mother. Her name is Dar, as you heard from the anxious questions and requests addressed to her. She is virtuous. You remember how it was she who washed you from blood and smeared you with life-giving ointment when you fell unconscious. The robe also resembles the feathers in the bracelet on Noa's forearm. He carried you in his arms.  But when the healing female chimpanzees began to undress you, fallen asleep, in order to heal your countless injuries, he immediately left — so as not to see your nakedness.

Another memory creeps under the fabric you've put on, from your waist to your neck. A man's mouth twisted into a smirk. A man's eyes greedily examining your untouched body. A man's hands folding you almost in half. Your hiked-up dress skirt. Your escape into the oppressive room of changing cloth the corpses...

When Noa said he'd seen you shirtless, you were scared. And angry. What if he'd lied? What if he'd seen much more?..

But he was honest.

After all, knowing many stories about the ferocious strength of apes, you couldn't help but admit — if only Noa wanted, he would easily see those parts of your body that you hid from all of the men. And he certainly wouldn't need to account to you for what he may saw. Or for what he may did.

But Noa didn't cling into you, didn't decide to have fun with you, a weak little echo.

Instead, Noa gave you a thing that could replace your crippled past.

And you accept this thing.

This fabric is bright. Not at all like the almost colorless shirts, trousers, skirts and dresses made of crushed materials. Left in the closet that you will never open again.

The fabric is bright, like the immaculate morning sky. Like a pond babbling with joy. Like the colors of the butterflies that once long ago circled around you...

The fabric is bright, like your childhood left behind the hills and lowlands...

A lump of sadness trembles inside you.

This sadness creates an immeasurable emptiness inside you — because of this, despite everything, you do not want to cry... This sadness creates a light inside you that doesn't dissipate and does not go out.

Nothing will return the good, cloudless, that was in your past. But no one can take away your memory. It cannot be expressed, but the unfamiliar sky-blue fabric reminds you of the most carefully preserved days lived. You accept this reminder humbly — you accept the future that has come. Even if it is foggy.

In the end, if you didn't have a chance for the future, and if the apes were so bloodthirsty — they would have finished you off while you were sleeping. Or, you would have already been tortured until you breathed your last... Or, you would have already been passed around in circles... Or, you would have been eaten alive... But you were saved by the apes and your wounds are healing thanks to them.

And you have nowhere to go from here.

You no longer hesitate because of the rain pouring down in your soul — the evening is clear, and you grab tightly onto everything that comes your way.

After spending monotonous years in confinement underground, you will be able to adapt to life in the bosom of nature.

Adjusting the fabric gathers and adjusting it on yourself so as to more reliably cover your own vulnerability, you are tormented not by doubts, but by curiosity. Does other apes wears something like this? What significance do things like that have here?

You nod to yourself, tightening the tight knot and unclenching your trembling fingers. A sky-blue stain spreads over you, from your collarbones to your calves.

You will think about the meaning of this robe later. For now — painting yourself in this color seems like the least you can do now to express your gratitude.

Although, you still tie the old, torn to shreds shirt around your hips, over the new robe.

The next step you take — to find out what your life will be like in this, as yet uninhabited, hut — seems important and necessary. And interesting. You move away from the nest, starting to examine and touch everything you can reach.

The arrangement of apes differs from the arrangement of peaceful people who lived next to your blood parents, too insignificantly. The same semblance of curtains, the same dishes. Probably, the same habits. The same bits of houses, not prisons, which you will always keep in your memory in order to live on...

Looking around, you come across a feather tickling your palm. Light brown, fluffy. Taking it carefully and twirling it between your fingers, you assume that the bird it belongs to is definitely large. This fact does not cause you any concern — for almost a day of wandering, leaving a bloody trail like a tail, you have avoided attacks from any forest dwellers. Since childhood, you believed that if you do nothing bad to the creatures of nature and respect its laws, nature will be merciful.

Thanks to this faith, you are alive, health and healing. And therefore you follow this faith.

The feather was lying not far from the exit of the hut, among other household utensils. The winged guest must have dropped it on his way home.

Or is this the bird's home — here?

The teen apes, standing apart from the general excitement, said something about birds after Noa announced his decision — but you didn't hear what exactly.

Among the things created by hand and almost indistinguishable from those you used before, your gaze stops on painstakingly hewn, sharpened blocks of wood. They are small, fit in both your folded hands — you do not understand what they are intended for and you want to take a closer look.

Footsteps are heard beyond the threshold.

As if scalded with boiling water, you twitch. And look for a place to hide. Again... It will take you a long time to get rid of this reflex.

Still holding the feather and wooden block that captured your attention in your hands, you listen. Not the same footsteps that Noa took as he left the shelter you had found, the one he had provided, into the thickening darkness — not heavy, and not shuffling from restrained righteous anger.

Cautious footsteps.

You turn around to see who's milling around outside your new home. You shake your head, not believing yourself and your own sleepy thoughts. Your new home?..

Seeing you on two legs and without heavy eyelids, Soona smiles. At least, that's what you think. It's hard to be sure, since she's still hesitating on the threshold, not going inside. Oh, damn. It's probably because of your rude, unnecessary words spoken with gestures. Noa probably warned his friends not to bother you.

Lowering your head and sighing, you gesture for Soona to come in.

“Echo is feeling... better? That’s good. Then... it’s a long day ahead” Soona’s voice is actually happy when she sees you standing and moving without pain.

“How long did I sleep?.. Children were not scared?” you say. After a long silence, these words seem difficult to say.

“They were worried... about you” Soona adds with gestures that two days have passed. You think that you should fulfill your promise. Go quickly to the little chimps and tell them a new story.

"So where you were?.." You can’t help but ask. After all, you don’t understand why Noa was next to your bed when you woke up?

"Next to you... One by one... Me. Then Anaya. Then Noa... Now again"

The thoughts in your head are confused, mixed up. This is confusion. This is a coincidence. Even after he snatched you from the jaws of death, Noa is a stranger to you. A male. From which comes a hidden threat. He killed to save you. He was ready to fight his kindred, who humiliated you in front of the crowd. Even when he walked away, without answering your silent accusations with a single bad word, he was furious. His breath reared the hanging lights, his intonation chilled you to the heels.

That's why you woke up from the nightmare, wrapped in panic and animal skins. You are grateful to Noa. But you are afraid of him. You don't know what must happen for you to utter even a word intended for him.

And you must always be on guard.

Noa's behavior is not at all like what your father's instructions warned you about. His actions are similar to those feats that were told to you in the semi-darkness by your mother's voice. Everything about him is different from the horror that you lived through. Everything about him is different from the horror that you managed to avoid. But how do you know that he will not compromise his own honor? How do you know that he will not encroach on your honor?..

"So why is there a long day ahead?" You ask, looking determined and smiling. To get out of your own thoughts, wandering into a dangerous thicket.

"There is a lot to learn... And a lot to do" Soona explains and takes your hand, leading you outside.

***

The evening spreads out over the dwellings, golden-burgundy. The sun rolls below the horizon, disappearing behind the forest, hills and rocks. This is the first sunset you have seen in endless years — just like the dawn that blessed you two days ago among the damp earth and grass.

Seeing off and greeting the heavenly light seems like a waking dream to you — although you know that for Mother Nature this is a daily hand-made labor. You want to pinch yourself when the haze of clouds changes shade in front of your amazed eyes. The sky is pink-red, covered with a crumbly sun shine...

Tears are creeping up to your eyelashes, but you blink them away and continue to peer at the painstakingly painted heavenly canvas.

A thin blue stripe is visible under the raspberry-pink clouds.

Soona, holding your hand, gently pulls your palm — you have lost track of time and have been standing there admiring the sky for several minutes.

"Is there sky always like this?.. So multi-colored?" you ask, returning from the sky to the ground.

"You will have time... to see for yourself" Soona assures you. You follow her along the monkey village, awkwardly climbing up. "And now... we need to hear the word of the Elders. Then, go... to the lake"

"The word of the Elders about me?.." you wonder, already entering another, spacious hut hung with many intricate accessories.

This is not someone's house. More like a meeting room.

And this confuses you. Hasn't everything about you already been discussed before the noisy crowd?.. You hear muffled, low voices. And you are not afraid. Even though there are a few males among the lived long lives chimps, they have the same gray hair and wrinkles as the veterans in the dungeon. And they were there, in the boiling lava Hell, a ray of hope and wisdom.

Besides, Dar is sitting in the depths of the hut. This gives you a shaky confidence that there is no reason to worry.

You bow in an attempt to repeat the bow that among the apes, as you have come to understand, expresses respect.

Right above the heads of the Elders, eagles have settled down, as if conferring with them. Their beaks are directed at your forehead when you straighten up again. Or, are their beaks directed at the fish on the flat plate?.. You look at the birds with genuine interest. After all, you have seen them, like so many other things that the world has kept from you, only on the colorless pages of books.

Colorless... The color... No, that can't be. That, too, is a coincidence. Only now do you notice - everyone sitting here is dressed in blue. Here sit the minds of the clan, wise with graces, adversities, and experience. And they are wearing the same fabrics that you are wearing. A little darker and worn differently. But the same fabrics. What does this mean?.. Why did Noa tell you to wear this?.. The knot you tied at your waist feels tight.

There are a swarm of questions in your head.

Nodding at the gesture you don't understand, Soona lets go of your hand and leaves the hut — but she doesn't leave, she stays to watch from the outside.

"Come closer, child... And sit down" the voices are still ringing out, but all sounds in your ears suddenly fade away when Dar calls you. Hesitantly, you sit down on the indicated place, next to her. "Soon you will run... like a little deer" She examines your wounds almost motherly.

"Thank you for helping me..." you whisper with your lips, folding your hands in the only expression of gratitude you know. The elders sympathize with you, but they are unhappy with your presence. "I know I have disturbed. I can leave at dawn... Just let me survive this night here, I beg"

Tear out and chew your own tongue - that's what you want to do now. After all, you swore not to be like this. Not to show weakness. But the plea escapes from your mouth against your will. After all, another night in the forest may be your last.

Praising all the gods known and unknown and whispering nonsense, you sink to the floor. Nothing helps. You are about to burst into tears.

"Not me, that's my son... helped you" Dar puts his hands on your shoulders, calming you down and helping you up. "I'm proud of him. But not everyone agrees... with his decision... Right, Vikima?.."

That elderly female chimpanzee with the cane sits in the circle. Dar addresses her as an equal — and you are ashamed that she saw your stupid, worthless behavior. But her eyes are almost blind, she does not put down the cane even while sitting. That is not why she is against you. She is against all echoes. You understand her fear — from her mournful, unseeing gaze, it is clear that this fear is not groundless.

Noa's silhouette is visible at the entrance to the hut.

Hunched over and breathing noisily, he doesn't bow — his status allows him not to do so. But he expresses respect with a complex movement of his hands, which you will hardly be able to remember and repeat. He was in a hurry.

He looks at you, at your eyelashes shaking with tears. Just like the first time you met, when tears flowed down your scratched cheeks like dew.

“Well... I won’t argue with... the new Master of the Birds. Too old...” Vikima’s voice creaks as Noa also sits down next to his mother. “Let just... your son answering... where has it ever been seen that... echoes shared their homes with apes? Has he really... forgotten... that echoes bring with them... only destruction... and death?”

“If she... had a home. If she hadn’t hidden... like a rabbit from an owl. And if she hadn’t been almost killed by four hands... of echoes like her. And if she hadn’t bled to death...” You hear the growl lingering in Noa’s ribs, not escaping from his mouth.  "I wouldn't bring her... But from this day on, she's going to live here. There's no other place for her"

The disgruntled grumbling stops, but it's like you're back in the forest. Among the thorny branches and wet leaves. Noa was watching you before the bastards threw you down on the cobblestones.

Noa couldn't help but save you. The thought sounds so strange in your head.

Before, men only wanted to beat you, fuck you and kill you — and the male chimpanzee who appeared like a shadow saved you. Not to make fun of you in the most vulgar sense — as the upside-down stories said, — but to ensure your safety... You don't know how to believe this thought.

"For her here... everything is strange" the bald old male, sitting in the distance, support Vikima. "How will an echo divide... our householding?"

You refrain from objecting only when you notice Noa's dissuading glance, invisible to anyone except you.

"The children are happy with her appearance... Isn't this a word from above?" Dar asks, looking up. At the birds and the sky covered with twilight. On this question, which does not require an answer, the advice, apparently, is over. "Let her go to them for now... Settle in... Then we will decide what work she will take up... Go, son. And you go, child"

Silently agreeing, albeit reluctantly, the Elders disperse. Their blue robes darken in the light of the flickering hanging lights.

Fidgeting in your usual place, you think about the words that sounded like an alarm. Your hair tangled under the fabric sticks to your back like snakes.

What the deaths?..

Who brought grief to this primeval place? Why do apes think of all people like this? Do they, too, like you lived all this dark time, live in captivity of delusions?.. It is not difficult for you to believe that this is so. After all, only two days ago you yourself were convinced that all the unsightly stories about apes were true. You were afraid to the point of trembling, to tears and numbness — but even wariness did not force the monkeys to drive you out into the cold of the night. Learning to trust you will not be easy, but not impossible.

"The heavens have sent... so many problems with me for you, Mom" Noa admits guiltily, as soon as the hut is empty and only Dar, he and you remain.

"As much as... happiness" The gesture with which the mother says this to her son is intuitive to you.

You sit like a ball-jointed doll — and memorize this expression that squeezes your heart.

Who knows, maybe you'll have a chance to say this phrase to someone?..

***

Weaving between huts and lean-tos with Soona, Anaya and Noa, you find yourself at the bird pens. They are securely built, tied with ropes and secured to the dry earth with sticks. You run your hand along the wooden crossbars, and the eagles greet you with a many-voiced  scream and clicking. Tiny chicks are scurrying in the distance — you don't dare disturb them, and watch from a distance.

On all fours, closest to the pen, Anaya asks Noa about something, jumping from theme to theme — like from branch to branch. You want to listen, but your attention is riveted to the majestic birds and their home.

There is almost as much space here as in your new home.

The apes don't treat their birds as heartlessly as the people in your settlement treat their starved pets.

"Does everyone in the clan have eagles?" You ask, remembering that there were exactly as many birds perched above the Elders as there were of them.

"For those who find... and raise an eagle from an egg... Like me, like Anaya... Here they are, the shells!.." Soona explains, pointing to the fluffy chicks and following your warm gaze, lost among the flapping of many wings. "Or for those who have an eagle become... a comrade."

"They can choose for themselves...?" You can't find the right word to ask the question on the tip of your tongue.

The word "owner" seems inappropriate to you. The word "friend" seems unpronounceable to you.

Another eagle flies up to the four of you, emerging from the leafy branches surrounding the enclosure. He circles around Noa, who greets him with a special sound. It sounds like a singing language. After that, Noa speaks again, and you listen more attentively.

The burgundy evening covers the sky, the wind blows on your shoulders. You don't shiver, but you sneeze. You wrap yourself in the thin fabric, like a cocoon. Soona asks if everything is okay — and after your timid nod, she continues to answer the question you asked.

"If they... lost the ones they helped before" you know what Soona means. After all, when she speaks, even Anaya stops his careless chatter.

"As happened with Noa and... Sun? That's your name, right?" you ask, taking a small step closer to the bird perched on Noa's shoulder, but not to him.

You heard Noa name the eagle, patting his back. Friendly.

You reach out and do the same. You coo at Sun, praising his plumage.

When you put two and two together, you're sure it was Noa's friend who dropped the feather on your threshold. If Sun was there, does that mean Noa was there too?  So he was worried about you — really worried about you in the way you're trying to comprehend?.. You don't risk telling Noa anything with gestures again, instead trying to silently correct your recent recklessness.

It seems to you the most free, but natural impulse. To show that you are not afraid of everything around you here. To show that in addition to the fear that has taken root in you, here you feel a small, hatching peace.

"He definitely likes echo... A good sign" Anaya laughs with all his teeth, coming closer to the wooden poles.

"He can... peck your fingers" Noa warns you quietly, turning to your face. His green eyes approach yours and you feel anxiety scratching. "Be careful"

"I'll go to the lake alone!.." you squeal when Noa's huge palm meets yours while you stroke the shiny feathers of the Sun. Just one moment that stretching out for minutes.

Too loud, too cowardly squeal.  Where Noa touched you, it's like hot coals are smoldering and scorching your skin. Soona and Anaya are confused and ignoranced.

You cover your mouth with both hands and back away.

Running into the bird pen, you freeze. Noa did nothing wrong to you. Nothing that was done to you in the place that cut your soul. He already held your hands in his, squeezed and caught you when you couldn't move on your own, when you fell and barely realized where you were... Luckily, the birds didn't fly away. They didn't even move, allowing you to remain among them.

Holding onto the sticks, you desperately want to apologize to Noa — but you bite your tongue, cheeks and lips.

Gagging and choking, you cough. Blood pours out of your mouth, probably as much as the healers washed off you.

You swore. Your mouth will not say a single word to any of the male race.

"Why are you doing this?.. How many times have you been scared, so that you are afraid... so much?" Noa asks, approaching you and trying to establish eye contact again, confused. You close your eyes until your temples hurt.

You can't cope with the fear that has attacked you. And you won't be able to tell the story you promised the cubs... They will be afraid of you this...

Splinters dig into your tightly clenched palms.

Why would he even want to know how much and how you were scared?..

"Echo is joking, right?... The forest will soon fall asleep... Dangerous" Anaya asks, trying his best to smile.

"There will be long days... many more" Soona reaches her hand through the stakes towards you, you clasp your hands together.  "Now Echo needs to... go home and..."

"Leave me alone!..." Your voice breaks and you shake your head in convulsions. "I just want to wash my old things..."

"You'll get lost if you go... alone..." Noa says more firmly, but there's no anger in his voice, but pity for you. You stubbornly dodge his gaze, and only by the grace of fate you don't bump your head into the claws of a bird's paws. "Come back before... darkness, echo"

In the settlement where you hid from waking nightmares, they would have dragged you by the ankles, spitting on your worthless objections... Noa looks at you, slumped on the ground and almost incorporeal from the incessant lamentations that you won't tell anyone about — and leaves.

As you asked. No, no, no!..

Why does Noa treat you as if you mean something in this vast world?

You blink away the panic that has overcome you. Breathe in-breathe out-breathe in. Feathers float in the air, dancing with the wind. You can even see the specks of dust. Everything that is real right now — and not crawl to you from nightmares.

Wiping your lips and shaking off the dust, you leave the bird pen. You look at the birds again, and head towards the lake along the path strewn with fragrant flowers.

The journey takes you very little time — and the evening does not even have time to turn into twilight, while you bend over the wild petals to inhale their scent. Touches of spring are felt here and there, in their purest beauty comparable only to poetry. Pulling the shirt off your hips, you begin to untie the knot of sky-blue fabric tied at your waist.

The healers may have washed you, healing your wounds — but you need to wash yourself differently after what you ran away from.

You need to wash yourself to the very core, to banish these terrible thoughts.

Taking off robe, which were left on the sandy slope, you go into the lake. You hide among the tall rustling grass and cattails up to your neck, frozen in bliss. The water lulls your cuts, bruises and sorrows. Dragonflies are circling by the water again, little unreasonable tadpoles are swimming in the water... You can hear breathing behind the trees, just a few meters away from you. It seems to you that the lake is turning into an ocean — and you are drowning in its bottomless depths.

Someone is watching you. Watching the splash of water enveloping your naked body.

Hiding behind the stones scattered near the shore, you look around — and shiver from the thickening cold and darkness.