As the suns were already setting, the monkey-men reappeared, their arms laden with the spoils of the Dras. They appeared a happy bunch, speaking with each other. The eldest of them, his eyebrows flecked with grey, approached Immanuel.

"We've bested the Dras, found it sleeping, no less! Praise be to the Leafmother!" he exclaimed.

He paused, noting the absence of Immanuel's shelter. "And where might your hut be?" he asked.

With a tap on his midsection Immanuel offered a sheepish grin. "Packed it up.”

The monkey-man frowned and hesitated a moment before continuing. "Well then, you want to accompany us to the Enduew. En route, share your tale, stranger. What's your name? It's rare to encounter a human in the verdant embrace of the Green."

Eager for the company and the promise of safety, Immanuel fell into step beside the man. "I'm Immanuel. And what is your name?"

"I am Haiak, the first hunter among us," the man replied with a touch of pride. Before the conversation could proceed, Immanuel asked him. "Have you encountered others of my kind before?"

Haiak's eyes drifted to the horizon. "Not in person, we have traded with humans in the past, they reached us from the edge of the green."

"And is there a way back to humans?"

"Simply follow the river's course. Beyond the grasslands, through the forest. But be warned, it's a journey measured not only in distance, but also in danger."

"And the time such a journey might take?" Immanuel pressed.

Haiak’s thought about it before he answered. "I don’t know. We never go into the woods."

Immanuel tightened his grip on the walking stick, its familiar weight offering a small comfort.

Haiak continued to lead the way, the bounce in his step suggesting an innate ability to traverse this wild terrain. His feet were bare and hairy.

"You've landed in a riddle, my friend," Haiak noted, casting a glance over his shoulder. "But fear not, the Green can be forgiving to those who show it respect."

They walked in silence for a moment before Haiak ventured another question, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity. "You do not seem familiar with our ways, yet you speak our language. How did you come to know it?”

Immanuel hesitated, his eyes catching on the termite mounds across the river, looking for a diversion. "Those creatures there, do they pose a threat?"

Observing the direction of Immanuel's gaze, Haiak nodded towards the towering mounds. "The Cutters? Only if you trespass into their underground tunnels. They are meticulous harvesters of the grass, architects of vast, interconnected underworlds."

He then fixed Immanuel with a knowing look, an unspoken acknowledgment hanging between them. "You guard your secrets."

The guilt that had been gnawing at Immanuel's conscience bubbled to the surface. He thought about his response for a moment. "Truthfully, I'm as lost about my situation as you are... There was an accident, and I crashed somewhere further down the river."

Haiak's response was thoughtful, a simple "Hmm," that seemed to carry both skepticism and a willingness to leave the matter be.

The two walked without talking for a while, with the other monkey-men lagging behind. Eventually, Haiak led them away from the river. Soon, big round, egg-shaped structures, about the size of a single-story building, appeared. A bunch of small monkey kids ran up to greet them, their excitement palpable.

Haiak's face lit up as he saw them. "Start the fires, we're having a feast tonight!" he shouted. The kids burst into giggles but then froze, staring wide-eyed at Immanuel.

Feeling a bit awkward, Immanuel managed a smile and a small wave. "Hello," he said softly.

The kids looked at Haiak, who had stopped to let the other hunters catch up and pass by, one of them giving him a friendly pat on his shoulder.

"Younglings, this is a human," Haiak explained to the children. "He's alone, so be nice to him."

With that, Haiak moved on, heading into the heart of the village. Immanuel took a deep breath and followed, feeling the curious eyes of the village children on him.

The village square was a cleared space, and was encircled by larger domed structures reminiscent of colossal eggs. Here, Immanuel saw the female monkey-folk for the first time. One, burdened with a water bucket, was so startled at the sight of Immanuel that she dropped her load, spilling water onto the hard-packed earth.

"Lina! Making mud now?" Haiak chided gently, a playful rebuke in his voice. "Cut the gawking and help with the fires; the hunt was good."

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All activity in the village paused momentarily as the inhabitants took in the sight of the human among them. Immanuel, feeling the weight of many eyes upon him, mustered a smile.

Meanwhile, the other hunters were preoccupied with the spoils of the hunt, preparing a pit for what Immanuel assumed would be a communal feast. Haiak gave a small, contemplative purse of his lips before motioning for Immanuel to follow him into one of the tents.

Inside, the tent was sparsely furnished but had its own set of peculiarities—an array of hanging dried herbs, a stack of neatly woven grass mats, and a collection of different-sized wooden bowls carved with intricate patterns.

Haiak gestured for Immanuel to sit on a spread of furs that served as seating. "Wait here," he instructed, "I need to speak with the elders."

"Yes, yes," Immanuel replied, nodding. "I understand."

With that, Haiak exited the tent, leaving Immanuel alone with his thoughts and the quiet hum of village life just beyond the tent walls.

In the midst of the village’s evening preparations, a young monkey girl made her way into the tent. Her features were delicate and somewhat captivating, with a tiny upturned nose and large, doe-like brown eyes. Her fur was an uncommon shade of blond, nearly golden, and she, too, was adorned in the community’s signature green robes.

"Hi," she greeted. "You're Immanuel?" Her voice held a melody of curiosity.

Immanuel gave a nod, confirming, "Yes, that's me. And you are?"

"I'm Naia, the weaver’s daughter," she introduced herself with a hint of pride. "I’ve never seen a human before. You look... interesting."

Flustered by the surreal normalcy of the exchange, Immanuel blurted out, "Well, thank you. You look interesting too."

Naia’s expression momentarily tightened into a frown before softening into a smile. "Do you come from the city?" she inquired.

"A city, yes," Immanuel replied, thinking about her question. "A city so far away that the stars hanging over it are different."

Naia appeared to mull over his words.. She was about to speak again when Haiak entered the tent. "Naia, please, go enjoy the feast," he directed gently.

She nodded, and then she left, blending back into the festive hustle outside.

Haiak then turned to Immanuel, "Would you mind waiting here? Your presence may cause a bit of a stir, and nightfall is near. I’ll bring you some meat."

"That’s fine," Immanuel agreed, acknowledging his own fatigue. "I'm rather tired myself."

Haiak left and soon returned with a substantial hunk of spiced meat. "You can stay in our tent tonight; we’ll make other arrangements," Haiak offered generously as he handed a piece to Immanuel.

Immanuel began to voice his concerns, but Haiak nonchalantly brushed them aside with a dismissive gesture.

As Immanuel took hearty bites, he found an opportune moment to ask, "How many villages are there?"

The question seemed to perplex Haiak. "How many?" he echoed, momentarily lost in thought.

"Do you want to count us?" He asked with an incredulous expression."We are uncountable!. Our lives are woven through the vast expanses of the great green," he declared with a tone of finality.

Meanwhile, Immanuel savored the meat, feeling a surge of vitality with each bite.

Grateful, Immanuel remarked, "Thank you for this meal. The meat is curiously revitalizing."

"It's a revered tradition in the great green," Haiak replied with a warm smile. "We share our bounty with those who do not prey upon us." He paused, then ventured cautiously, "The Dras attacked you and yet you live. I have to ask you. Are you a cultivator?" His tone suggested he thought it ludicrous but had to ask.

"Yes," Immanuel confirmed simply.

Haiak’s reaction was more than Immanuel had anticipated. The normally composed hunter appeared genuinely taken aback, his face etched with a blend of shock and something bordering on reverence.

"You can consume beasts?" Haiak’s voice was laced with disbelief as if doing so was taboo.

"Yes," Immanuel confirmed, feeling a slight unease at the sudden intensity in Haiak’s eyes.

Haiak was silent for a long beat, his meal forgotten. "Can all humans do this?" he eventually managed to ask.

Immanuel shook his head. "I don’t know. I was brought up by a secret society, isolated from others of my kind.".

A shadow of doubt crossed Haiak's face, and he seemed to be grappling with this new information. But before Immanuel could clarify or ask further, Haiak abruptly stood up, the remnants of his meal cast aside.

"It's a rare gift, to protect the tribes," Haiak said, his voice strained as if he was holding back a flood of questions. "The hearts are not to be taken lightly. We should rest now—sleep well, Immanuel."

With that cryptic parting, Haiak exited the tent swiftly, leaving Immanuel alone with the sound of his own chewing. Immanuel found Haiak's abrupt departure odd, considering the hunter's earlier hospitality and openness. The shift in demeanor was jarring, and it planted a seed of caution in Immanuel's thoughts.

In the quiet that enveloped the tent, Immanuel's mind raced with the day’s revelations and the weight of the journey ahead.

A boat, he thought, allowing the plans for his departure to take shape, providing a brief respite from the unsettling encounter with Haiak. The idea was a flicker of direction in the overwhelming strangeness of his current reality.

Not long after Haiak's unexpected departure, the weight of exhaustion began to press upon Immanuel. The day's events, filled with strange encounters, revelations, and the persistent tension of being a curiosity in a foreign land, had drained him. With a deep, weary sigh, he lay down, his head finding a surprisingly comfortable spot on the fur beneath him.

As he closed his eyes, the sounds of the ongoing celebrations outside became a distant murmur, a lullaby sung by an alien world. The questions and the oddity of Haiak's reaction would have to wait until the morrow; for now, sleep was the only respite from the whirlwind of his upended life.

The rhythm of his breath slowed, and his thoughts began to drift. The gentle hum of an unfamiliar night crept through the walls of the tent, wrapping around him like a cocoon. In these last moments of wakefulness, the surreal nature of his existence hovered at the edge of his consciousness, teasing him with the promise of answers hidden just beyond the veil of sleep.

And with that, Immanuel's tired head succumbed to the much-needed rest, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep, his spirit momentarily untethered from the wild tapestry of this new world.