We awoke in the trees, well above the thick roil of mist. These were the high times, when perpetual fog infested the middle boughs, condensing along the mid-level tree-limbs to patter ceaselessly over the forest floor. Bad times for us, as the mud released thousands of poisonous bog frogs. They ate everything that dared to share the drizzling damp with them. The frogs climbed up as well, to infest the obscuring mists below us. Anywhere really, where the constant fog and drizzle could keep their skins wet.

Our troupe scavenged only the dry tops at such times. The fog drove bentworm and others as could migrate up too, so food stayed available if not plentiful. Seagin, my mate, swung gracefully towards me, her white furred face beaming, our daughter, Pinsai, clinging tightly to her chest.

"The troupe will move today, over the bright gap to the Rickey Tops." she said. " The fruit harvest there is ready or so proclaims Macbac, our great leader anyway."

Seagin slapped at my ribs with the back of her hands. She did this often when mentioning Macbac to me. She felt I should have stood for troupe leader. Macbac was harsh, often bullying and no better than I at sniffing out safe feeding grounds. I grunted. It was not a good call. It was late after the birthing season. Children would be large and heavy to carry. Later, when the children were independent, or earlier when they were a lighter burden, would have been better. The bright gap had few high crossing-branches; leaps would be required now, in the season of raining boughs. Seagin adjusted Pinsai's instinctive grip on her fur due to some whining complaint from the sleeping child.

"We will go late in the troupe, when the crossing is not so crowded and the boughs well tried. Find the ways where you will not have to leap so far." Seagin sniffed, and swung off to glean what food she could before the troupe moved on.

Macbac stood on the thickest of the top branches, long arms high overhead, jerking to punctuate the clan calls he made. The troupe assembled gradually below him. Behind, on his branch, Reeree his mate huddled coddling the large lump of her child, who shifted uncomfortably in her grip sensing her unease with the prospect of travel.

My mate, Seagin, had queued up lower in the pack as I had asked, just above the foggy shroud that marked the now dangerous middle ways of the forest. Macbac howled, "We will cross now, while the season is early and occupy the best sites. In two months, when the clouds go, other troops will find only our leavings."

I pounded for attention. "In two months the middle ways will be open and the journey safe, our children moving on their own. There is food here still, why risk this crossing now?"

Macbac leaped down catching one limb on the fly to redirect himself, so as to land before me. He swung an arm at me, knocking me sideways and almost dislodging me. "You had your chance to lead. It is up to me now, or do you challenge?"

Concerned with my mate and first child, I had not contested for leadership this season. Perhaps a mistake. Macbac was a brute, more interested in glory than the safety of the troupe. As I had not contested, I was still an insecurity to him politically and he had moved quickly to assert his position. I understood this but there was still a chance he might consider a safer course, so I forebore. "It will be slow going. We will have to take more precautions. We may lose mates and children otherwise. What will you do?"

Apparently, he had not bothered to consider this before. He growled, but thought briefly.

"My plan is this. You will follow at the end with some younger males, and see that the females with children cross safely. We will not wait on you. Any losses will be on your head." He swung back to his high perch, directed the mothers to follow with me, and assigned a few young males to accompany us. With a screech, he moved off leaving the rest to follow.

I huffed and snorted, but there was nothing to be done save follow my earlier advice to Seagin, and shepherd the remaining quarter of the troupe. I hooted and the single males he assigned gathered, none too happy with me.

"So, Rheit. Now we must leave the company of single females for mated ones, and travel without the strength of the whole pack because you cannot shut your mouth. Now what?"

The speaker was two seasons away from being old enough to challenge anyone, but old enough to court and angry to be relegated to the rear of the pack.

"Now,"I hooted, "you will take on the responsibilities of adulthood. The future of the troupe is given over to us. I hope you are up to the challenge."

The thought of the responsibility and the honor it might bring was not lost on them. Thoughts of tales that might be later told to admiring females flitted through young minds, and a background of excited barking rose.

Not all the nurturing females had stayed behind. A few whose young were lighter had gone ahead, but many remained. Mostly mothers of more experience who had faced the light gap before. Not, I noticed, Reeree. Macbac had made sure she stayed with him.

"We can travel normally until we near the gap but do not outrun the females, stay close, be watchful. When the gap nears, some must go ahead, find the soundest ways. No leaps over eight feet. No splintered limbs."

We traveled west for an hour, following the setting sun. Clouds thickened above the canopy, piling up against the horizon and a darkening beneath promised that we would soon be headed into a downpour. Lightning lit the far mists, playing between the low clouds and the high green canopy. This would make the way treacherous. Rain slicked the sappy limbs underfoot and made for unsure holds. I felt my footing loosen, and ahead, the young males reached out from swaying limbs to steady burdened mothers and our pace grew even slower. High in the canopy branches were thinner and swayed, springy with new growth in the gathering wind and rain. The lightning was unwelcome as well. Ahead, Macbac, having set a much faster pace, was already disappearing from view. Those he lead, though comparatively unburdened, struggled to keep up. His mate, Reeree, child clinging desperately to her chest was already falling behind. Macbac lead on in evident unconcern.

Soon, the cloud cover swept over us and torrents of water sheeted everywhere, down and up, like a flood, going where the strong winds willed. Everyone hunkered down. I looked desperately at the troop and down into the denser middle branches where normally we would be seeking to shelter.

A bolt of lightning crashed, leaping from branch to branch along the soaked ways of the high passages and I knew a decision faced me. To face the frogs or the lightning. Another flash and crack, so loud, it shook me, so bright that it blinded me for a moment. Screams rose, and as my vision cleared, a sight of Ree-ree hanging from a broken bough. Only a twisted ribbon of wood connected the piece she clung on to the former swaying tree branch. Holding to one leg, her child dangled over the forested abyss.

As I watched, her grip loosened and she tumbled wailing into the darkness below. My heart stopped, and I automatically sought out the form of my mate, thankfully gripped tightly to the thin trunk shivering in the drench but our child still safe. I set my face grimly and shouted to the rest, "Seek shelter in the middle ways. Stay together and watch out for the frogs! Sweep clear a tree with cuttings and make a nest, but stay as high as you can. The rain may have driven the frogs back to the lower ways, for a time. l will be back shortly!" It was dangerous, but the frogs also breathed through their skin, and though liking the damp had their own reasons for avoiding the heavy downpour we faced.

With that I raced downward though the storm, toward where the dangling Ree-ree had dropped. I made a leap to the next tree, feeling my weight pull hard on the wet limb I caught, rebounding again with the recoil of it to grasp at the giant, slick trunk and slipped as much as scuttled downward, past the middle ways and even the lower ways. I would have to find a thinner trunk to climb back up.

She lay crumpled on a brown erupted root, one leg-bone poking through her flesh, obviously never to breathe again. The child, also dead, several lengths away. I howled sadly.

Wind shuttled leaves along the forest floor and with them, came a pack of frogs, running before the coming floods that would soon sweep away anything but the strongest tall trees. I ran to distance myself from them and find a climbable one.

A bright glint caught my attention as I ran. A white cube twice my height, and four times as long. There was an opening in it. I loped toward it on impulse. A prickling ran over my body as I flew through the entrance. Outside, the frogs scattered away abandoning their chase. Water rose to over two feet or more, coursing fast, but by some magic did not enter the doorway. Some sort of hard material closed across the entrance and the shock of a sting impacted against my arm. A lassitude overcame me, and I could not move. Darkness fell upon me.

"Subject male from tribal group 458-p discovered the capture lab, and entered. State, healthy, but some nutritional deficiencies noted. Specimen not fitted with tracker prior, minor scrapes."

My eyes opened to take in the space, which was filled with stuttering lights and odd shapes. Noises came from a grille set high in the clutter of the place, but I smelled nothing living here. I lay sprawled on a thin white rock surrounded by odd metallic shrubs. Small vines seemed to be attached to my head, and a transparent one punctured my wrist.

"Colonist Genotype seems well adapted to the planetary environment. Cyanotic atmosphere resistance remains high. However, comparison to human specie norm shows ongoing atrophy of cognitive abilities, vs the original template. Some adaptive changes in the use of its intelligence links probable cause. Visual cortex changes progressing as expected. Atrophy of speech centers in process, which was not projected. Musculature stable, similar to simian norm, per gene splice. Hirsute, similar to ape ancestry. No advanced tool use has been noted in the experimental group specimens captured over four generations. Survival index seven of ten. Will release subject. Suggest discontinuation of automated outpost. Note: Audible report mode still engaged, but specimen not responsive to linguistic stimulus. Data packet transmission - engaging. Mobile handler will remove subject from specimen trap."

I slept again, to awake on the lower branch of a nearby tree. Several white patches were stuck on my arms, which were painful to rip away. Distantly, I hear the chattering of my tribe, Orienting on that, I swung off toward it.