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writing_shadows2011-10-09 08:30 am
lucara.livejournal.com) wrote in writing_shadows2011-10-09 08:30 am
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[Lost] Monkeys are fierce creatures
A small background piece from after Alex escaped. She spent her first year or two living in the hedge before coming out to find Lost society.
The little girl was carried along by the hobs, she didn’t make a sound but it was clear that she’d been crying, she peered about helplessly from inside the net the hob had slung over his shoulder. She was the lone prisoner of the hobs, there were four of them and each was bigger than the last (as it would be far less impressive to say that each was smaller than the last even if technically still true) and wielding crude weapons fashioned out of thorned branches and spikes of metal. And from high in the branches the monkey watched them pass.
They’d made the mistake of walking under the tree where she’d curled up to sleep for that day and now she followed them, keeping out of sight in the tall trees and darting down as low as she dared when the thorns threatened. They were wary but they never thought to look up, always looking back over their shoulders or scouting ahead instead. They were heading towards one of the Markets. She knew the place well enough, she’d heard other captives yelling from inside its walls and never dared go near it for fear of being caught and sold back to Them. The hedgebeasts whispered of that Market; of how their brothers or sisters were taken to it and never seen again and how even stranger things were sold there; humans and changelings if the hobs could get their hands on them.
And so they continued on; drawing ever closer and no doubt thinking to themselves how much to sell the girl for and who would give the best price. But suddenly in front of them appeared the monkey, leaping down from the trees in a shower of leaves and holding a heavy stick threateningly. She was wild in appearance; her clothing (or what there was of it) was salvaged pieces of cloth mixed with fur from some hedgebeast that had been quite unfortunate, her hair dangling in front of her face and her own fur was in moderate disarray due to the leap through the leaves. She bared her teeth in a threatening grin, as is traditional among monkeys and quite fierce to behold, and leapt into the fray.
When all was said and done the hobs fled, the monkey untangled the young girl from the net and looked at her quizzically. The look was returned with the stalwart bravery that can only come from the sagacious, the courageous or the very young.
“Why don’t you have proper clothes?” the little girl asked quite forthrightly. The monkey gave a baffled look and tried with little success not to fiddle with her makeshift coverings while fighting a severe sense of déjà vu.
“And,” the girl seemed to give quite some weight to this next question as though having thoroughly considered it from every angle and found that it needed resolving before any progress could possibly be made, “why are you a monkey lady?”
The monkey frowned in thought and dismay, she’d been rather hoping that the child would be overwhelmed with gratitude and forget such questions and the latter was one she’d been avoiding for some time now by staying safely in the Hedge away from people.
“Well, I’m not really a monkey, I’m a person,” she answered hesitantly, still quite unused to speaking to another being after all this time.
“Monkeys are people,” the girl said stubbornly.
“Oh,” she frowned again, taking this new argument in, “well I suppose I more meant that I’m human?”
“Humans don’t have tails,” she said, folding her arms in the posture of one having to explain that the sky is quite clearly not purple no matter how much someone else says it is. Her face softened a bit, “besides, I like monkeys, they’re cool.”
“Yeah?”
The girl nodded very determinedly, the monkey looked down quite sheepishly.
“You’re sure? I mean,” she shrugged, “I rather thought people didn’t like them, called ‘em smelly and nasty stuff like that”
“Some people are nasty. Nasty and wrong. I like monkeys, monkeys are awesome people, and you saved me and that’s even better,” she nodded approvingly of the situation as though having come to a decision on it all, “thank you. Will you take me home now?” and suddenly the little girl was just that again, a lost and frightened child in a forest who needed help, but still she seemed to shine with such perfect wisdom to the monkey. The monkey nodded and took her hand, leading the little sage girl back to the real world, finally daring to take that step.
The little girl was carried along by the hobs, she didn’t make a sound but it was clear that she’d been crying, she peered about helplessly from inside the net the hob had slung over his shoulder. She was the lone prisoner of the hobs, there were four of them and each was bigger than the last (as it would be far less impressive to say that each was smaller than the last even if technically still true) and wielding crude weapons fashioned out of thorned branches and spikes of metal. And from high in the branches the monkey watched them pass.
They’d made the mistake of walking under the tree where she’d curled up to sleep for that day and now she followed them, keeping out of sight in the tall trees and darting down as low as she dared when the thorns threatened. They were wary but they never thought to look up, always looking back over their shoulders or scouting ahead instead. They were heading towards one of the Markets. She knew the place well enough, she’d heard other captives yelling from inside its walls and never dared go near it for fear of being caught and sold back to Them. The hedgebeasts whispered of that Market; of how their brothers or sisters were taken to it and never seen again and how even stranger things were sold there; humans and changelings if the hobs could get their hands on them.
And so they continued on; drawing ever closer and no doubt thinking to themselves how much to sell the girl for and who would give the best price. But suddenly in front of them appeared the monkey, leaping down from the trees in a shower of leaves and holding a heavy stick threateningly. She was wild in appearance; her clothing (or what there was of it) was salvaged pieces of cloth mixed with fur from some hedgebeast that had been quite unfortunate, her hair dangling in front of her face and her own fur was in moderate disarray due to the leap through the leaves. She bared her teeth in a threatening grin, as is traditional among monkeys and quite fierce to behold, and leapt into the fray.
When all was said and done the hobs fled, the monkey untangled the young girl from the net and looked at her quizzically. The look was returned with the stalwart bravery that can only come from the sagacious, the courageous or the very young.
“Why don’t you have proper clothes?” the little girl asked quite forthrightly. The monkey gave a baffled look and tried with little success not to fiddle with her makeshift coverings while fighting a severe sense of déjà vu.
“And,” the girl seemed to give quite some weight to this next question as though having thoroughly considered it from every angle and found that it needed resolving before any progress could possibly be made, “why are you a monkey lady?”
The monkey frowned in thought and dismay, she’d been rather hoping that the child would be overwhelmed with gratitude and forget such questions and the latter was one she’d been avoiding for some time now by staying safely in the Hedge away from people.
“Well, I’m not really a monkey, I’m a person,” she answered hesitantly, still quite unused to speaking to another being after all this time.
“Monkeys are people,” the girl said stubbornly.
“Oh,” she frowned again, taking this new argument in, “well I suppose I more meant that I’m human?”
“Humans don’t have tails,” she said, folding her arms in the posture of one having to explain that the sky is quite clearly not purple no matter how much someone else says it is. Her face softened a bit, “besides, I like monkeys, they’re cool.”
“Yeah?”
The girl nodded very determinedly, the monkey looked down quite sheepishly.
“You’re sure? I mean,” she shrugged, “I rather thought people didn’t like them, called ‘em smelly and nasty stuff like that”
“Some people are nasty. Nasty and wrong. I like monkeys, monkeys are awesome people, and you saved me and that’s even better,” she nodded approvingly of the situation as though having come to a decision on it all, “thank you. Will you take me home now?” and suddenly the little girl was just that again, a lost and frightened child in a forest who needed help, but still she seemed to shine with such perfect wisdom to the monkey. The monkey nodded and took her hand, leading the little sage girl back to the real world, finally daring to take that step.