Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Jonathan Michael (red novels .txt) 📖

in itself, but a branch. It places me back onto the deck and releases me.

Zoie runs toward me in a panic. “Goose, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” As she approaches, she wraps her arms around me and squeezes.

“You didn’t mean to what?” I glare with suspicion. “What was that?”

“A reaper. They gather the fruit. I was… It was my fault,” she admits. “I didn’t mean to scare your legs out from under you, Sheela,” she says defensively and punches me in the chest.

She has an impressive jab for a petite girl.

“A fruit picker? You could have warned me. I thought maybe the trees were coming to life. I thought it was after me.”

“You don’t know what a reaper is?” She patronizes me.

“No.” I defend myself. “I was raised in the capital. We didn’t pick fruit in the city. We traded a copper rib to get a basket of fruit.”

“Well, now you do. Stop crying, I was only trying to help speed things up. It’s getting late and you’re cutting into precious hunting time.”

“Leave the wooden appendage out of this and just give me a hand, then.”

I fill my basket with green apples, golden pears, red plums, star fruit, papayas, and a variety of fruitlets. I imagine Coloss and his kin have been eating figs their entire lives, so anything different ought to be welcomed. I made sure to overfill the basket and pack in as much as I could into a second basket as well so all the simians will be able to feast.

To get back to the village, we have to transfer the arborcar over to the return line.

“Grab the cable over there and thread the charlie over here, will ya?” Zoie requests to a naïve ear. I stare at her with a blank expression.

“The cable. Run it through the charlie over here,” Zoie requests again.

Once she realizes I’m useless, she marches over to where I’m standing, grabs the excess line hanging from the arborcar, threads it through the wooden mechanism sitting atop the return line, and pulls it taught.

“Are you really going to let a young girl do all the work? Be of some use and pull on that cable over there.” She points to another line, or cable as she describes it, and gestures for me to hurry.

I pull hard on the line, and with the help of the so-called charlie the line that remains attached to the arborcar swings into place onto the return line.

“What a useful contraption,” I acknowledge.

“Yeah. Whatever. Get on.”

I step aboard the arborcar with my fruit basket in hand. Zoie watches me from the platform and doesn’t attempt to step aboard herself.

“Are you not coming back?”

“No thanks. I have no business playing with the apes right now. My time is valuable, so I’m going to use it wisely. I’ll stick around here to see if I can bring home dinner.”

“You’re hunting in the grove?”

“Yeah. These trees leave delightful desserts that animals of all kinds come to revel in. It’s a hunter’s dream.”

“It’s not much of a hunt if you’re baiting the prey. There’s no more challenge in it than butchering a hog in its sty.”

“I’ve butchered a hog or two while shacking out here on some late hunts. Now those were some lip-smacking meals. And I don’t bait the prey, Grouse. I just go where the meat is. And the meat just so happens to enjoy the savory delicacies of the grove.”

“Suit yourself.”

When I return to the Redcliffe Crossing, Coloss and company remain frolicking about their revered fig tree.

I stay put and observe, waiting for the right moment to approach. I’ve witnessed somewhat of a daily routine after observing them for the past several days. The older siamangs tend to be lazy throughout the day with the occasional hooting. The younger ones, however, parade up and down the trunk in and out of the branches and wrestle on the forest floor in the late morning. Soon after, one of the elderly females rallies the young ones, and that’s when the grooming begins. They’re currently picking at each other, so that means they’ll be divulging in the nourishments of the fig tree any moment. Today, when they do so, I’ll surprise them with an array of flavors to please their taste buds in a way they’ve never experienced. That ought to earn me Coloss’s trust.

I mosey down to the base of the tree, allowing them time to finish bathing each other. Not one of them acknowledges my presence. Coloss must know I’m trespassing on his territory; though, so I clear my throat to force his acknowledgement. Still nothing. I set the baskets down and place a hand on the lowest branch. No raging apes yet. I casually swing my leg over to straddle the limb.

My tree… I hear a voice—or feel the words. I’m not sure. Is he a speaking ape?

As anticipated, a loud howling rumbles the entire tree. And even with the anticipation, the startle nearly tosses me back to the forest floor. Whether the words are real or imagined, I clearly understand. I obey Coloss’s request and drop from the tree, fearful of what might happen if I don’t. Another howl echoes through the ravine, and Coloss crashes to the forest floor not two paces away, causing me to stumble backward and trip over the delicacies of the fruit basket. He pounds his chest and howls again, but I pay no attention as I scramble to gather all the fruit I displaced.

Once the contents of the fruit basket is back in place, I stand up to present it to him, but he no longer towers over me. My eyes dart in all directions and find him perched back upon his throne in the fig tree.

I stomp my foot. “What do