Monkey Wars Read Free

thing that matters is survival.” Willow looked at the monkeys as the cold truth of her words struck home. “We have to take responsibility. All of us.”
    There was silence as the monkeys’ minds grappled with the idea.
    “So how exactly would it work?” asked Fig.
    “We talk problems through. Share ideas. Agree what to do. Consensus. Like the ants.”
    Cappa snorted. “You really think we can learn from the ants?!”
    “Oh how funny!” Fig smiled as she started to understand. “I think I like it.”
    And once the first monkey had endorsed the idea, some of the others felt bold enough to nod their agreement, until the weight of opinion swung behind Willow.
    “So, which way do we turn now?” asked Fig with disarming innocence. “What do we all think?”
    The monkeys looked at one another. They looked across the river. And no one said anything.
    “And
that
is what happens when monkeys have no leader,” pronounced a voice from the shadows. “They starve by the riverbank.”
    The rhesus immediately huddled, shielding their young, peering into the darkness to see who had spoken. All of them shared the same terrifying thought: the langur had returned to finish them off.
    Cappa snarled defiantly, “You want to taste your own blood? Step closer!”
    “If you insist.” The reply came loaded with dark intent as a patrol of bonnet macaques emerged from the shadows.
    Papina stared at them wide-eyed. A fluffy mop of hair on top of their heads made it look as if they were wearing caps, and several of them walked on their hind legs, giving them a distinctive, imperious air.
    Although she’d never seen one before, Willow knew that the bonnets were the oldest monkeys in the city, and demanded obedience. Aware that an aggressive response would only get them into more trouble, Willow hurriedly stepped forward. “Our troop has been attacked. We’re looking for a new home.”
    “So, you’re all alone?” the bonnet leader mused as he strode over to Willow. “No males?”
    Papina slid closer to her mother, gripping her hand tightly as the bonnet paced around them.
    “Well, staying here is out of the question, old girl,” he finally pronounced. “These are our streets.” As much a warning as a statement of fact.
    “We meant no harm,” Willow said hastily. “Only we don’t really know the city at all.”
    The bonnet scoffed. “Word of advice: start learning your way around, or you won’t last two moons. Every corner of this city is bagged. Every monkey troop has its own patch. And this is ours.”
    The bonnet turned his back on the rhesus—as far as he was concerned, the matter was closed—but Willow scampered around to block his path. “There must be room for us somewhere?” she pleaded.
    “Still here?” The bonnet’s patience was wearing thin.
    “Please. We have infants. They’re hungry and cold. They can’t walk much farther. Please.”
    The bonnet cast his arrogant gaze over the fidgeting young rhesus. “I believe there’s still some room in the slums,” he said loftily, evoking wry chuckles from his comrades.
    “We’re not slum monkeys!” protested Rowna.
    The bonnet turned and glared down his snout at her. “It looks to me as if you don’t have a choice.”
    “But that’s not fair,” said Willow. “You’re monkeys just like us and—”
    “Fair?!” Aggression flared across the bonnet’s face. “Did you care about fairness when you were lording it inside the cemetery walls? Did you ever think about what it was like outside?! We won these streets, over many moons. We fought for them. We earned them. If you were careless enough to lose your home”—he shrugged indifferently—“that’s no concern of mine.”
    “So you’re just going to abandon us?” Willow retorted.
    The bonnet paused, exchanged a dark glance with the patrol, then pointed at Fig. “We’ll take her…and her.” He had picked out the youngest, most comely females.
    A malevolent smirk spread across the faces of