Sleep came a little more easily that night. Not because the surroundings had become any less noisy, but due to the combination of deprivation and emotional exhaustion.

In fact night seemed to be primetime for Madagascan residents. Nocturnal animals dominated, and only the individual sounds of their calls and activities had changed the farther north I ventured. Tonight a bat-like call was added, high-pitched and carrying, a noise that made your ears strain to pick up what you knew they weren’t sensitive enough to fully hear.

But tonight even odd noises couldn’t keep me from nodding off. Within a matter of minutes, I was out.

——

The next morning, refreshed, I greeted Gunga and Bert before leaning over to pick up my hat. It was heavier than I expected, and made noises that I hadn’t thought to hear again.

I peered through the window. Sure enough, a layer of grey fur lined the inside of the hat. My buddy Timmy had decided to stay for a little while longer.

And he’d brought friends. Three pairs of eyes lifted to stare at me warily before retreating back into their cosy huddle.

Lemurs are highly sociable creatures, preferring to live in familial groups, Bert explained. The original individual probably called to his age brothers during the night. They are surprisingly mobile creatures, well able to travel multiple kilometres in that time.

“Brothers?” I whispered. “Why only males?”

Females hibernate for a more extended period than males. They are considerably less active, preferring to store fat in their tails to survive on than risk the many predators that like to eat small mammals.

“Sounds sensible. Why don’t the males do the same?”

That has not been established. Habitat loss has meant that no mouse lemurs remain in the wild, and their behaviour has consequently become too altered to be studied definitively. But it is assumed that it had something to do with the maintaining of a territory that contains the maximum number of females. Young males, as in many animal species, may have been exiled from the group when they reached sexual maturity, until they themselves were large enough to fight for access to the females.

“So these little guys are forming their own bachelor pad.” I lifted the hat up to my eye-level. “Okay. Ground rules. No parties, alcohol, or destruction of private property. We’ll try to find somewhere better for you to live on the way.”

I attached the hat back onto my harness with the strings that were still dangling from the night before. An anxious chitter accompanied the movement, probably from one of the less travel-experienced lemurs. My Timmy was a veteran.

It didn’t take long to eat some of the artificially protein-rich fruits and pack up camp. Without my hammock, or any man-made shelter, and no fire to safely dispose of, I was less hiker-girl, more homeless hobo.

Even the dagger I had left out to supplement Gunga’s diet was easily found, though not for the usual reasons.

Handsome blue frogs with neon yellow and black trimmings were stationed around it, like guards around a royal palace. Every time an insect came within range a tongue would lash out, snatching up an unfortunate bug without the frog even needing to move.

Smart. The colourful opportunists must have made their way over from the shallow pond I could see a few metres away.

It made me wonder how long it would take for the ‘there’s always a bigger fish’ philosophy to take effect, rendering the frogs the prey rather than the predator; an escalation only ending in the attraction of the habitat’s apex predator.

Best not to find out. I carefully extracted the dagger, making sure I didn’t touch any of the frogs as I did so. I had no idea if this variety was poisonous, but everyone knows that bright colours in nature are usually a warning sign.

They were pretty, though. It was a pity that frogs had been one of the first species-wide extinctions to occur in the twenty-first century. A few decades of climate change and habitat loss had trumped millions of years of evolution.

And technology had proved to not be the panacea that people expected. Early attempts to clone individuals were unsuccessful, even though many samples had been preserved. (Amphibious species were apparently too genetically ‘picky’ to use as viable surrogates.) Around ten years ago science had lost the war for their survival.

Fortunately Gunga showed no interest in an attempt to recreate history, choosing instead to delicately pick out insects well clear of the frogs. I don’t know what she saw, but birds are generally held to have the best sight in the animal kingdom. Plus, I doubted the game would let her accidentally poison herself.

It really was getting harder to see this world as a series of code and pixels. The longer I was immersed, the more integrated I became. I had truly begun to notice my surroundings, each participant of nature, and adapt accordingly. I was becoming…

Dian Fossey.

About two feet tall, and half-hidden in a patch of tall dried grass, was a strange, ape-like creature. Quite different from the lemurs. Its face was hairless, and its eyes comparatively small inside a thick brow ridge; the nose broad and flat, more like a human’s—but a human that had had the plate of gristle removed; and arms broad and long, reaching almost to the ground, in direct contrast to the legs, which were disproportionately short.

But it was the intelligence in its eyes, the way it held a stick in a hand tipped with long, dexterous fingers, and the upright bipedalism that set off my danger-sense.

And, of course, the Lvl ? indicator floating above its head.

I froze, dagger still in hand. The creature looked strong and cunning, but I couldn’t see why his level would be so high that my Perception abilities couldn’t ascertain it. I outweighed and out-heighted him by a considerable margin. (And owned the superior stick.)

Even the ring-tail had dropped his snack, his hands and feet curled into the ridges of his latest tree in preparation for flight.

A thump sounded as a large, taloned foot stalked forward. Gunga, radiating menace and power. She rattled threateningly.

Showing that his intelligence extended to self-preservation, the strange hominid turned and vanished into the grass, only a slight rustle heralding his exit.

His turn revealed a worrying additional attribute—and not one I’d ever seen on any primate. His head and back were covered in a dorsal ridge of long spines. A kind of Sonic the Hedgehog adaptation. And that wasn’t all. They shimmered like Tinkerbell had attempted to make him fly.

I had no idea what the spines were or why they’d been dipped in special sauce. I only knew in my bones that we’d see him again. Soon.

——

Two hours later I came upon a body. Human. This time I avoided stepping on it, but it was a near thing. It was lying face-down next to a pool of water that a group of foragers had obviously seen as an ideal campsite, and the shelter was in the midst of being flattened by what looked like…a baby hippo? (Lvl 15)

I moved cautiously forward, wondering where its mother was. The baby was in the throes of a toddler temper-tantie, blowing and snorting while stretching its mouth wide, as though trying to swallow the world and all its frustrating inhabitants.

I could sympathise. However, there seemed to be at least one forager still in the shelter, whimpering but alive.

“Bert? Advice?”

Walk on. Abandon the NPCs. Hippopotami are very aggressive creatures and can move faster than a human. Getting inside its aggro range will cause it to charge, making it extremely dangerous to approach. Even elephant birds won’t approach a hippopotamus.

I looked over at Gunga and, sure enough, she was standing on the other side of the pool, tutting anxiously.

I lowered my voice. “Do I need to worry about its mother?

Mother…? No. I think you are under a misapprehension. This is a pygmy hippopotamus. Full-grown. It is thought they travelled across the sea from Africa thousands of years ago.

“Any differences from their larger cousins?”

Apart from the size? Not really.

Great. I was about to take on a miniaturised version of nature’s most dangerous mammal.

Why? They are hardly your friends. In fact, only hours ago you were shouting that they didn’t exist.

The scream rose higher in pitch as the hippo turned its attention to the occupied corner of the collapsed shelter.

Because he didn’t do anything wrong. He’d obviously been caught napping when it had decided to make like the big bad wolf and tear his house down. If I hadn’t had Bert or Gunga would the same have happened to me?

Regardless, I wasn’t reckless and I wasn’t a fool. Hippos were strictly terrestrial creatures and I thankfully had at least a smidgeon of primate buried deep in my primordial genes.

It was time to head back into the trees.

Unfortunately, the only trees of any suitable height were the branchless baobab (inaccessible), another spindly tree that looked as if it would break under my weight (fragile), and the thorny (painful) variety that my ring-tailed stalker was currently dining in.

Dithering in front of the two equally unpalatable but possible choices proved to be my undoing. The hippo caught sight of me at last and charged, roaring like it had aspirations of taking on the king of the Pridelands.

As far as I was concerned it could have the title. Challenge definitely not accepted. I booked it up the nearer, thorny option, suffering stabbings that dripped blood and hit pts as I made my way farther up, finally stopping on the same branch as the lemur.

I nodded politely, hoping he wasn’t some programmer’s nightmare that would tear the eyes out of my head, and I swear he nodded back. In understanding and/or companionable bro’hood.

Though I had no idea how he kept up his air of Fonz: The branch was spiked. He must have skin like a rhinoceros.

I used my lyre to rub across it, defanging the worst offenders. Then I primed my fingers for the first notes of my Clamorous Cacophony ability. This is what Bards are all about. Ranged attacks.

My smugness only lasted as long as it took for the hippo to start ramming the tree.

Thunk!

The branch underneath me shook as the tree swayed under the impact. I had trouble keeping my grip on the lyre, and was forced to use my legs and remaining hand to hang on.

The lemur abruptly dropped his lunch and shrieked in fear. The drama had rudely intruded into his dining room.

A pause before—

—thunk!—

—the miniature titan struck again. At this rate I had no hope of using my lyre. Unless…

I eyed the fork I was sitting in. The sides still retained the nasty hooks I had rubbed off the top surface. Perfect.

Thanking the pain-sensor gods for their mercy, I slid—

—thunk!, crackle—clutch—

—my left leg into the notch and impaled myself onto the branch.

You have been impaled by thorns! 4 hit pts!

A whimper escaped me. It goes against all normal instincts to deliberately hurt your own body.

Thuunk!

The impact sent the thorns even deeper. Ow! Ow! Fuck me! If this is what the lowest pain setting feels like, then I’m glad I didn’t opt for Normal Mode.

It took an effort of will to impale my remaining leg. This time I knew what to expect. But finally I was secure enough to take out my lyre once again and strike the first strings of the children’s song I had adapted.

“Boom bada boom bada

“Boom bada bing!

“Sound is the cure

“That makes you wanna sing…”

A large chameleon fell from a branch beneath me, stunned. I couldn’t see the hippo but—

—thunk! Crack!—

—I could still feel its assault. Without a clear shot my attack had been misdirected, resulting in collateral damage. I would have to try something else.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a wooord,

Daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbiird.”

The lemur’s eyes began to droop.

“And if that mockingbird won’t sinnng…”

He slumped, only the length of his limbs and a helpful fork in the branch preventing him from slipping to the ground.

—Crack!—

That…didn’t sound good. The tree had developed a sway that wasn’t assisted by the wind. One more charge and I’d be going down with the ship.

I switched to my highest level song. At least the ring-tail wasn’t conscious to be harmed by it.

“La-la-la—,” I heard a distant hoom in response.

Accompaniment skill activated!

+25% to all active skills!

10 XP awarded!

Gunga.

“—Laaaaa—” I put a little more oomph into it, encouraged by my Companion’s involvement. “—AAAAAAAA…”

Sploosh!

I finished out the screech, wanting to squeeze every last note of effect out of it. My final active Skill—flight—would be impossible amongst the thorny branches; they would tear my wings apart immediately I extended them. Besides, my mana had to be running pretty low.

I waited for a few minutes after the ramming stopped. I hadn’t heard that hippos were particularly sneaky animals, but discretion is the better part of valour and all that.

The lemur revived as I was making my way down, thighs burning from levering myself off the thorns. Freeing my legs had been almost worse than the impaling. At least then I’d had adrenaline on my side.

The tree creaked alarmingly as my weight shifted the tree’s centre of balance. This feeling of fragility made me descend the final few metres at desperate speed, the lemur in close pursuit. I jumped just as the tree finally snapped, and scrambled to get clear of the falling canopy.

When the last of the branches had settled, I looked around for the lemur, and was relieved to see him bounding his way over to another tree. Luckily, he seemed unharmed. Though I could swear he gave me the finger before he disappeared.

Of course Gunga trotted over to me as if nothing had happened. Perhaps our previous experiences had taught her to be blasé about danger. Ho-hum, a large ferocious beast. Just another boring day. But what’s this? A delectable lizard, unconscious in my path? Gobble, gulp.

“Good job, Gunga,” I said ironically, but she didn’t have the capacity to understand sarcasm. She leaned down and nuzzled me with the side of her cheek, a rattle-purr escaping her. I had to hurriedly shift my foot away before she stood on it.

“Let’s go see if Harry, Larry or Sivest-the-Second need our help.” Suiting words to action, I rose and walked somewhat bow-leggedly to the demolished shelter, though not without keeping one wary eye on the water. Where there was one…

“Hello? Do you need any help?”

A muffled sound of surprise, followed quickly by exclamations of vehement agreement.

“I’m just going to lift this frame. Mind your head.”

The frame was heavier than it looked. I yanked uselessly at it before realising that it was trapped underneath a piece of the tree trunk that the shelter had been resting against. Which had been toppled in the fray. I had to hand it to him; Mr. Hungry Hippo was nothing if not consistent.

I used a thick branch to leverage the trunk far enough that it no longer pressed over the frame, then leaned in. Larry II was inside, up against a corner of what had been the shelter’s right wall.

“Is it gone?” he asked nervously, looking over my shoulder as if he expected the hippo and I to be in cahoots.

I wondered how that conversation would go. You sneak over and lure him out of the shelter, and then…get this…I’ll pound him into the dirt. Fun, right?

“Back into the water. But maybe not for long. Better get out before it hears us and decides it wants us dead after all.”

With some help from me, he levered himself out of his hippo-made coffin.

“Where’s Sivest? Cocol—Cocol was just beside me—“ He reached down and wrenched up what was left of the frame.

Yep, definitely stronger than me.

“Cocol?” His frantic hands found his friend. Dead.

Larry shook him, but he remained limp. Even when he was dragged out and propped against a tree trunk he failed to respond. “Cocol…” The word was a whine of pain.

Okay, I shed some tears. Big whoop. In the right mood an ad could make me cry. (Or a certain music vid playing in a local takeaway just last week. Cruel bastards should vet their content more carefully.)

But it wasn’t over.

“Sivest? Where’s Sivest?”

I screwed up my face in a grimace of sympathy and nodded across to the body next to the pond.

“Sivest!”

I had to grab his arm to pull him back. “If you go near that water, I guarantee those hippos will come after you. And I won’t be able to save you a second time.”

“But—“

“Sivest is dead. I think he was the one who disturbed the hippos in the first place.”

“I heard him scream. He cried out: Kalanoro.” The whites of his eyes stood out clearly. The poor guy was obviously in shock.

“Come away from here and we’ll talk.” Well away from indigenous animals aggressively confused as to their place in the food chain. And yes, I was feeling more than a little vulnerable after shooting all my bullets at a single target. Sound Gives Me Wings was currently the only active skill in my arsenal.

It took a bit of coaxing, but we finally managed to get out of the deathzone. I prodded him to sit down on a large rock before joining him on another. Then I took out a water canister and a few pieces of fruit. I didn’t have tea or chocolate, so they would have to do.

“So, what’s this Kalanoro?”

“The Kalanoro is a creature of great cunning and power. He comes out of the shadows to steal food and children, and uses his magic to trick people.”

“Magic, eh?” This was beginning to sound similar to the myths of trolls and elves of European folklore.

“His quills are very powerful. They can be the source of much healing when prepared by our tribal elders. Or curse those it touches with a fiery, torturous death.”

“Hang on. Quills? This Kalanoro guy wouldn’t happen to be so high, flat face, claws the length of its fingers?”

“Yes!” he cried. “You have seen him?”

“He was investigating my camp. Not sure what he wanted, but he certainly took a good long look at me.”

Larry II shot up off his rock. “Then you are cursed! He will not rest until you are dead! No one may see him and live!”

“Steady on. He wasn’t that scary.”

“He will pursue you and anyone you meet. Already I may be—“ He stopped talking and looked around frantically. “I must flee!”

“But—“

It was no use. Larry took off like a startled bunny. I tried to catch up but stopped when I heard the unmistakeable roar and snap of teeth crunching on bone. In his panic, he’d headed straight back to the watering hole.

Rest in peace, Larry.

Quest Received: Eliminate Kalanoro!

Reward: Hero Status amongst the Daalabi tribe!

Reward: 2000 XP!

Reward: #### (Error: 4530)

Reward: #### (Error 2867)