The swamp water isn’t deep, but it’s still too deep for me to be able to stand in with this body. If I fell in, I’d have to struggle and kick around and swim until I could grab something to get back out of it. Some low hanging branch or rock or anything, as long as it gets me out of the bad water. As long as I get back up before it can reach me. The thing. I leap again, reaching a high point on the tree. The density of the foliage grows sparser the higher up I go though, leaving only gnarled, empty branches and limbs that splay out in odd directions. No fruit to be seen here.

  Looking down behind me, I see the ripple in the water move, as the thing sloshes forward. It’s not beneath the water, it’s not like some kind of fish or snake or anything. No. There’s a thing standing there, a thing I can’t see. A thing nobody can see, but it’s there. The only thing that makes it perceivable is the disturbance in the swamp. They try not to leave the bad water. Bad water. Bad. They never climb. But they reach. Some have longer arms than others. You never know if this branch is safe. Just because another of my kind stood on a branch, doesn’t mean that same branch is safe for me.

  Maybe their thing has short arms. Maybe my thing has long arms. Everyone has thing, but every thing is different from other thing. Ooh. Not know. Not know till too late. Not know till it reaches you. Not know till you fall in the bad water. Ooh!

  Turning my gaze I look out to where the trees grow sparser, to where the water still flows. Just ever so gently, but it flows there. It’s not stagnant and fetid like it is here. All the sweetness and the stickiness dripping from the trees and polluting it, all the blood and viscera and the bile and rotting fruit making it more grimy every day, until it became the disgusting coagulation that it is now. There, where the water still flows, that’s where the hero-party will cross the swamp. That’s where they’ll take the little boat. Ooh!

  I jump over to the next tree closer and listen as the water sloshes behind me, just down below. There where the water flows, in the swampy river, there are other creatures. Trash-mobs that bite and pinch and claw and tear and poison. Up here in the trees, just us. Just Ooh! Bad thing can go into flowing water too if outsiders here. It doesn’t leave the bad water otherwise though. Bad thing. Bad water. Bad! Across the river, on the other side of the bayou I see another. Another Ooh, another me. They climb. There is fruit. Something wells up inside of me. Hungry. Hungry! My fruit! Mine!

  Breaking a small branch off from beside me, I swing my arm back and throw it across the river as hard as I can, towards the furry creature reaching for the single fruit dangling out over the river, that is far too large for me to cross anyways. Two sides of the same floor, separated by the flow. The stick spirals through the air towards them, spinning in a circle with a whooshing sound as it flies. There is a ‘thwack’, I can hear even over here as it makes impact, striking just on the tips of the fingers like the crack of a rector’s yardstick over bare knuckles. Good throw! Strong arm! Ooh!

  They shriek in fear and shock and jump back, scrambling and almost falling off of the tree. Almost falling into the bad water. The fruit flies out of their hands and splashes into the river and we both watch as it floats away. Baring their fangs they shriek at me in rage. My fists pound against my chest as I shout back at them. Ooh! Ooh! My fruit! My fruit!

“Ooh!” They yell back calling me dumb!

“No! You dumb! You! Ooh!” I return.

  And so we sit there, shrieking at each other over the slow stream of the river with indiscernible, high-pitched squalls. This goes on for a while, several minutes at least until we’ve both run out of things to say. Ape vocabulary can be broader than you expect it to be, but I’ll spare you the details because I know you’re faint of heart, guy.

  With a final hiss, perhaps feeling the hunger, the other returns back into the tree-line on their side of the floor. I bet they’re looking for more fruit. More of my fruit! Ooh! But there is nothing I can do about it from here. Maybe thing will reach them. Maybe they’ll fall into the bad water. My eyes narrow with suspicion, as I watch the ripples below me emanate outwards in a ring from my shadow. At least bad thing isn’t trying to steal my fruit. Turning my head to the left, I see one of the few lonely patches of dry land off to the side, a little peninsula just before the fork in the river vanishes off into the dungeon walls.

  And there, on that little patch of dirt is a hole in the wall with a staircase leading upwards. On the bottom, where the land meets the river is a small boat, just big enough for a party of adventurers to sit in. That’s their goal on this floor, they have to take the boat to get across the room. All the while, things will come out of the river. Grabby, clawy, bitey things will come out of the water to reach for them. To get them, ooh! Get them-Get them!

As I stare at the little patch of dirt, sure enough I see a small glow shine out from the darkness near the top of the staircase and then, a moment later, I see the shining metal boots of the hero and then the rest of them behind him, as they make their way down the stairs. As they go towards the boat talking and laughing about whatever it is they talk and laugh about. Climbing over to the next tree and then jumping to the one after that, I begin to make my way towards them. I can’t do much from here, but I can throw things! Good arm! Strong throws! Ooh!

Razmatazz

I really bungled this upload twice, huh? Oof.

 

*~+---SPECIAL THANKS---+~*

Henry Morgan,  Shadowsmage, The Grey Mage, Spencer Seidel, Slime girl chapters 4 lyfes, chp2001, Shaoraka