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so wise.  He was a big, powerful, alpha-male, which lent itself to also being a muscle-head and a glutton.

The ape tribe had split, pretty much along those lines – the biggest chest-beaters had gravitated towards Brutus – Grape Ape, Big Joe, and Konga – extroverts, who tended to act out.

The bulk of the tribe, however, the more sophisticated, reserved apes took Caesar's path.  Cornelius and Dr. Zaius, were his primary lieutenants.  The separation of tribes was an equitable enough situation and there was no need to fight over leadership – a conflict nobody wanted, with no guaranteed outcome.  Brutus was big, but Caesar was anyone's match in a fight.

Brutus had settled up here on this side of the mountain.

He and his troop, however, seemed to be gone.

It also seemed the area had a bloom budding up – and not from the carcass of any infected giant.  This was something in the foliage itself.  The leaves on this stretch of hillside were different.  Brutus and his tribe had clearly not noticed – which was not surprising, if you'd ever seen them eat.

The results were obvious enough.  In the clearing, Caesar found a six-foot pile of ape shit that told its own story.

An outbreak of the Food of the Gods was dangerous for more than one reason.  The humans had taken to burning entire swaths of forest at the first sign of an infected giant.  Several members of Caesar's troop had been caught in recent burns.

Instructing Cornelius and Zaius to lead the rest of the tribe further north, Caesar had gone to investigate the sudden outbreaks.

So far, what he'd found was not encouraging.

And as if he needed another pain in his ass, Caesar also had seen signs of that human who shot him.

Twice, he shot him.  The big ape grumbled, touching gingerly at the bullet wounds on his arm and shoulder.

He had seen that little rex hatchling creeping up and had tried to intercede – T. rex were feisty, even at two feet tall, and he knew screwing around with the little beast could lose him a finger, so he'd attempted to scare it off with a roar.

That earned him two gunshots for his trouble.

It was likely that human was still around somewhere, working his way over the mountain.  Caesar knew he would have to be wary.

And even as he thought it, there came a loud crack of a breaking branch.

Caesar turned, eyeing the twisting roots and tangling briers.  He scented the air, but the wind was against him

The big ape scanned the foliage, looking for movement, but saw nothing.

Then he turned to the summit, still a couple miles distant.

She was up there.  And as much as he could feel her, he knew she was hurt.  That was enough to spur him to action.

With a last glance at the surrounding brush, Caesar shuffled out of the clearing, his eye on the peak beyond.

Chapter 15

Trix was pregnant, and feeling a bit hormonal.

During nesting season, and at this time only, female T. rex coveted the presence of the male.

Her mate, however, was infected.

Trix could see him from the hillside – the rogue, along with several females that once had been her pack.

And while she did not intellectually understand what had happened to him or her sisters, she had learned to stay clear of the giants, in the way hatchlings stayed clear of adults.

The growth-cycle of the infected rogue and his harem was nearing its peak – madness would soon set in.

Trix only knew the scent of her mate had changed, and she kept her distance.

She was already skittish with her pregnancy, which had likely saved her life, because she had not eaten any of the infected carrion.  Something about the scent of the carcass set her hackles up and she held back, even as other members of her pack had rushed forward for the giant free meal.

Her oldest sisters, Daphne and Velma, had stayed back with her.  Josie, however, her oldest daughter, had not.

Trix' primitive mind instinctively recognized the significance – it was a rebellion.  And Josie led several of her sisters with her.  Granted, there was a lot of tempting food, but there were principles at stake.

As senior female, Trix' territoriality manifested differently than the rogue.   She allowed no other matriarchs.  Once one of her girls got pregnant, she got chased out – off to stake a new territory with her own brood.

Female rex were also not belligerently aggressive the way males were.  On average, females were fairly apathetic about other animals unless they were trying to eat them.

But, if you got them in one of their moods, like say, pregnant, nesting, mating – or worst of all, somehow challenged the dominance hierarchy – there was absolutely no bullshit in females.  They wasted not a second on roars, stamping feet, or displays of any kind – they went right for the throat.

In that regard, lady rex were more dangerous, because their expressionless faces made it difficult to tell the difference until it was too late – they went from zero-to-kill in an instant.  Males at least went through the pantomime.

By leading the others onto the carcass, Josie was jumping ranks, and under normal circumstances, would have been harshly disciplined.

Before any of that became an issue, however, jets had dropped napalm on top of them and lit the mountain on fire.

Trix' hide bore ugly scars, as the clinging flame had burned her skin alive.

Daphne hadn't made it.  Trix had seen her stumble, her lungs choking with smoke, snapping a shin as she struck the ground.  Crippled, Daphne lay helpless as the flames overtook her.  Her screams followed the rest of the pack as they fled the burning forest.

Mercifully, the mountain was bordered by a wide river, which arrested the blaze.  Trix, along with Velma, and two younger females, both daughters, stumbled down out of the smoking mountain, soaking their blistered hides in the cold water.

Trix' pack had originally numbered an even dozen.  The rest had either gone with the rogue, or else

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