Kóçik the fairyfly landed on a branch swarming in lines of fireants. And amidst their noisy business, he pleaded, 'O, ants of fire! I call to your attention.'
The ants were walking in a rapid motion, most of them either carrying leaves or returning for more, and their noise was consistent with angry songs of labour and praise to the king of the fireants. The fairyfly knew it would be impossible to catch one's attention as they were droning back and forth in haste. He flew and landed on a leaf-carrying ant right between its eyes.
'Sir ant, hello? Can you see or hear me?'
'Leaves, leaves – more leaves!' it snared, 'Are you a leaf? We require more leaves.'
Kóçik shrugged the mindless one and tried another but was met with similar behaviour. He flew up concerned, unable to garner more information about the Scirialan anomaly. Learning that this part of the jungle is useless, he flew away, the noise of the fireants slowly fading away. He now wishes that Túnon, the hummingbird, was here so that it would pull apart the flock of ants with its vicious beak. Kóçik, like all the dark creatures in Mavrílla, had the same disdain he held for the enlightened animals of Sciriala, like everyone in the wretched forest.
In frustration, he flew deeper into the jungle. Hearing from one of the beetles he met alongside the hummingbird that an old and lone ape lived in a large part of this jungle. His name was Simian, and he was a silverback gorilla. Quite greyed out from his old age. Some say he foresaw the Last Wolf's upbringing of darkness and saw his entire kind either succumb to the Mavro or be hunted by it until death. He resides deep within the jungle, its mossy trees, and endless fruit, living a fruitless life.
The fairyfly arrived at one rocky formation of boulders that resembled a tiny cave. And in its entrance, he shouted, 'Mister Simian! O, Mister Simian, would you help a weak little insect. . .'
The gorilla never hesitated to walk out. After being awakened from his many slumbers of the day, he gazed at the source of the voice, 'A mosquito?'
'I'm here, Mister Simian.' The fairyfly landed on its nose, quite wet it was.
The gorilla looked at and barely saw the smug face of Kóçik as he waved.
'You are. . . a fairyfly!' He quickly moved his head back and clasped his hefty hands around the fairyfly, 'I have you now, disturber of peace.' He taunted. His voice was loud at his quietest and deeper than the Well of Desires.
The fairyfly whispered in Simian's ears, 'Perhaps you need to start practising on mosquitos first, Mister.'
Simian's eyebrows showed defeat, and he stomped his bottom on the ground — some leaves fell alongside an apple — facing the entrance of his home, 'You win, fairyfly. How can I be of help? Could an old ape like me be of service to you? I presumed my reputation was scary, but the tiniest of them all. . .'
'Mister Simian, I am on a quest to find beings out of this world. Have you heard the news, Mister Simian? The Bees of the Hill and the Fireflies of the River had their greatest battle of them all, and they almost erased each other.'
The simian grunted and listened carefully, almost pretending to follow the news, resting his chin on the top of his right knuckles, 'hmm. . .'
The fairyfly added, 'But they were aided by two peculiar beings. . . so peculiar that they walked on two legs — bipeds, you see. . .'
Simian's ageing eyes widened in intrigue.
For everyone in Sciriala who heard of the buzzing battle between the two insect colonies also heard the news of bipeds aiding them in their wargames and a great scream that ended the battle for all the flying insects to drop dead, rendering both colonies losers in the one-day war. They all perceived them to be of Simian's picture-perfect attributes, and little did all the animals in Sciriala know that the pair of bipeds were beings of other worlds, of their species and kind; that in their worlds, animals were nonexistent or extinct, that animals were non-sentient, mindless — animated fleshes.
Fortunately for Icebringer Wolfheze and Arnitikós the Forson, they've never seen an animal, and within the infinite knowledge that the Forson possesses, her current state of mind dictated otherwise. Thus, humility is present.
Simian remarked, 'So, I am not the last gorilla?'
'No, Mister Simian! Reunion perhaps awaits you – or a sense of relatability, unlike the isolation you keep yourself in.' Replied Kóçik.
'Uh, no.' Said the ape and funnily walked to a tiny mountain of fruits beside his rocky home. He cracked open a spiky fruit; it was yellowish, and the tips of the spikes were green until they were dark. Within the fruit were many moist seeds that were ever sugary. 'Do you want some, fairyfly?'
Kóçik was rather bothered, not by the refusal of the ape meeting someone of his kind, but by his longing for fruits more than leaving his territory of this jungle.
The fairyfly nervously begged in a sheepish smile, 'Mister Simian. . . I came all the way across Sciriala seeking aid—'
'I believe my kind is either dead or turned to the forest's darkness and its wolf. Oh, and I hate monkeys! If who you're talking about are monkeys – chimps, I will be unhappy. And old Simian hates discontent!' He said with a mouthful of seeds; a messy sight filled Kóçik's eyes of an old gorilla in denial.
'Find someone else for your endeavour, fairyfly.' He added whilst reaching for another smaller fruit. 'Most animals in Sciriala prefer community, and I am content here in my isolation. I find it peaceful rather than an escape. Perhaps I've beaten the trauma and now awaiting eternal peace.'
Defeat painted Kóçik's face. Not just tiny, but also helpless. He left the fruit-eating ape and had no intentions of venturing further. The fairyfly left the jungle, and he set a long, tedious flight to Mavrílla, wishing for a ride on that hummingbird.
The dark owl, Dakinrīsh, was at the Kannival shrine, the very centre of Mavrílla, right next to the wolf's den. He was channelling his thoughts to the root of Sciriala's evil, the spot of land covered in ancient blood still shiny and runny, and how blaspheming against the nature of Sciriala is of great joy to those who are overgrown with the Mavro. Why hateful love between two is ethereal? Why does a snake living next to a rat induce comfort to the two? And why did all the animals in this forest choose to submit to the only wolf with the awareness that if they all band together, they could add the spill of his veins to the remains of his kind's blood at the Kannival? It's said that he is within the minds of all the dark animals, and perhaps they have no control of their own will. Yet, all act in their way according to species, and just how pathetic and weak Kóçik is when he arrived before his master, Dakinrīsh, and delivered the news to him, the owl calmly snapped.
'From flies, I've plucked you as a saviour,' scolded the owl, 'and along the grace of the Wolf, I bridged his pure Mavro upon you, and the return is the same wee fairyfly that had longed for more life on his death flight between the flies. . .'
The owl turned to the nervous fairyfly, stared at it, and grew disdainful towards the insect, and in instinct to both a flying and a silent hunter and the devotion to the Mavro, the owl devoured the tiny insect with its beak. It never got the chance to plea or wail; it is now within the confines of the owl's grudging stomach, in dead bits.
The owl then journeyed to take matters into its wings. Pecking the puddle of blood in the shrine, he felt an unstoppable will to roam Sciriala, turning every boulder and tree in search of the exotic bipeds.