A dark, blurry silhouette was rushing towards an oak with frightening speed. Its figure drew a black streak as it dashed.
Almost instantly as he sprung into action the echoing hooting and hollering died down, replaced by high-pitched angry screams. Rocks and even sticks of all kinds were flung towards the hazy dashing streak, only to miss its target by a great margin and thump at the dark green carpet of ground.
The figure did not stop, did not falter, it charged seemingly towards the large, wide, gnarled bark. The small monkey-like beast, who was enjoying itself just a moment ago, suddenly sensed the incoming, looming threat, an inconceivable danger to its life.
The little beast just couldn't understand, how was he threatened? Their prey, the weak little outsider was down on the ground below whilst they were up, under the safety of the canopy, the dome of leaves.
He couldn't possibly threaten its life, could it?
