Monkey Wars Read Free Page A

the bonnet patrol. Papina glimpsed it but didn’t know what it meant.
    Willow drew her monkeys into a huddle and whispered urgently, “It smells of danger.”
    “But maybe it’s our best chance,” said Fig. “How long will our infants last out here?”
    “They have plenty of females,” Cappa warned darkly. “You’d never make it back to their troop.”
    “If they were going to hurt us, they’d have already done it, wouldn’t they?” said Fig.
    Willow could see how torn she was. “Look, if you want to go, go. Do what you think is best.”
    Fig looked at Willow searchingly. “Would
you
go?”
    Willow turned and studied the bonnets—for all their airs and graces, she knew what lurked in their hearts. “No. I wouldn’t.”
    It was enough for Fig. “Then that’s settled,” she said and, turning to the bonnets, announced with a breezy smile, “Sorry, we’ve had a better offer.”
    Her friends stifled a laugh. For a timid monkey, Fig really picked her moments to be cheeky. But none of the bonnets smiled. They were irritated that these strays showed so little respect.
    The leader paced over, stood on his hind legs and looked down at them darkly. “If you’re still here when we come back, we won’t be nearly as civil.” Then he gestured to his patrol and in an instant they were gone.
    Papina looked up at her mother, at Fig and the others, and felt a swell of pride. So
that
was how consensus worked.
    Then, with a guilty jolt, Papina realized that for the first time that night she’d stopped pining for her father. Maybe the only way to cope with this strange new world was to tackle it head on.

“M ine!” declared Breri.
    “Why?” protested Mico.
    “Because I’m the eldest.”
    “What’s that got to do with anything?”
    Just a short while ago Mico and his brother had been delighted when they’d set eyes on their new home. It was a small mausoleum with matching triangular walls, a flat roof for lounging on and a ledge running all the way round, ideal for ripening fallen fruit. But the moment they dashed inside and saw four large stone blocks arranged in the cool, dark space, the trouble started. Both young monkeys wanted the same tomb for their bed.
    Breri bared his teeth. “You want it?” he sneered. “Fight me for it!”
    Mico hesitated—he longed to lash out at that smug, domineering face, but he didn’t want to deal with the consequences. Breri was a big, muscular cadet, with a reputation for being able to wrestle three friends at a time, while the one thing everyone knew about Mico was that he was small.
    Mico was ashamed of his size. He had always been smaller than other monkeys his age, and his mother continually made excuses for him. “Every monkey grows at their own pace,” Kima would say, or, “He’s been a little ill recently.”
    But the truth was simple: Mico was small, and in the langur troop, physical strength was everything.
    “So that’s settled, then,” Breri announced as he stretched out on the tomb, gloating. “The lesser monkey loses.”
    Infuriated, Mico leaped at Breri, landed on his back and knocked him to the ground.
    “You want some?!” sneered Breri. He swung round, but Mico clung on tightly, staying just out of reach. Relishing the fight, Breri thrust backward. “Take this!” And he slammed Mico into the wall.
    Mico grunted as the air was knocked out of him, but still he held tight, digging his claws into his brother’s fur. Breri had no option but to grab Mico’s tail and yank it as hard as he could.
    Mico screeched and loosened his grip and before he knew it, Breri had pinned him painfully to the ground.
    “Pathetic!” Breri smirked. Then he grabbed Mico and lifted him off the floor, holding him above his head like a trophy.
    “I am the master!” he trumpeted.
    It was a humiliating end to the fight; Mico tried, unsuccessfully, to wriggle free.
    “Say it!” ordered Breri.
    “No!”
    “I am the master!”
    “NO!”
    Suddenly another voice boomed