Your pace is strong and you hear word that a mere four days should bring you to the palace gates. You adjust your buttocks against the waxen cheeses and grimace. You would not mind your accommodations so much were it not for—
"Hoo. Hoo. Hoo. Hoo. HAAAHHHH!"
"Saints alive, beast," you groan.
The wretched ape is only growing more agitated. Its eyes light on you more frequently now, as if to insist you must bend the bars and lift it free. You cannot bear four days of this. You have to do something….