The first sign of the Orux’s den was a clearing that spread around a massive divot in the land where the mat had been torn up by repeated movements of something incredibly large and heavy. Once they got closer, however, they saw the den itself.

It was a tunnel big enough to fit an Orux carved about five body lengths into a vertical wall of decaying mesa. Mesa mat piles like this were quite common. They were the product of floods ripping up the floating mats from surrounding areas, then depositing them en mass at natural accumulation points. In this case, there were three parallel dark silloutes of Mew trees visible in the near background that Banon suspected had formed the impassible object necessary for this particular mat mound to form over time.

Compared to the soggy green tangle that made up the living mats floating above the waterways and lakes covering much of the jungle, the layers of degraded mat built up here were much denser, drier, and had lost most of their living color of green in favor of a mulchy brown.

After forcing each barnacle to detach from the rope, he began to lay them out in the area directly in front of the Orux’s den, carefully positioning their snare mouths to face upwards. Even out of the water as they were, the barnacles would survive for days. And even dead, their mouths retained their stickyness, which was all that was important to him. He was careful to place them roughly in a straight line along the most well-worn pathway the Orux clearly took when leaving or returning to its home.

After finishing the first part of his trap, he left the den and the small clearing around it in favor of venturing into the thicker junglescape around it.

***

Banon pushed his way through thickets and foliage. Dew drops lit faintly by the surrounding bio-luminescence fell like spats of localized rain when he brushed past the various leafy plants and tree bows they clung to. He scanned along every branch and vine, searching for the second piece he needed to complete his trap. The circular snake. The reason for his search had nothing to do with the snake itself and everything to do with the curious interaction its venom had when introduced to the boulder-like barnacle's biology.

The usual purpose an Ooura had for reappropriating barnacles was to place it somewhere on the surface and then to attach some kind of bait to its snare mouth. Then, all a hunter needed to do was wait. Anything smaller than a round-legged monkey wouldn’t have the size or strength to escape once caught. The unfortunate victim would usually try to bite off the offending object ensnaring it, but find it extremely resistant to damage. From there, the hunter could return later and retrieve their spoils without expending the effort needed to track and hunt something the usual way.

In more niche use cases, however, there was another option. First, one must pluck a circular snake from the jungle, and then, using the conveniently nasty tendency of those creatures, the hunter would force the snake to bite into the flesh of the barnacle’s snare mouth appendage.

From the outside, the barnacle would remain just fine… in appearance. Inside, there was a noxious reaction occurring. While the venom of the circular snake affected Ooura only minimally, causing only a sharp pain, in the oysters, perhaps due to their separation of domains, it wreaked havoc on their insides.

To understand why, one needed to have the kind of deep knowledge of such things that could only come from generations of trial and error. Thankfully, Banon came from such proud traditions and had a lineage of sharp thinkers to thank for such inexplicable discoveries as that of how the ‘barnacle bombs’, as they were commonly known, came into being.

There were two organs that operated as chemical storage bags inside the stone-encased barnacles. Those bags stored two distinctly different chemicals that were then directed via a series of thick-walled fleshy channels into a large central channel that ran up the thickest middle part of its snare mouth where the two parts– each inert on their own– came together to form a highly reactive and acidic final mixture. This led to the fact that the barnacles ate things by dissolving them with their mouths rather than chewing them or swallowing them whole, as most of the more active jungle predators did. Without the precise limitation of how much of each chemical was added into the dissolving mixture, the reaction could become extremely dangerous. He even suspected one or both of the chemicals produced by the barnacle was part of the Pyathen’s acid recipes, though those were even a notable notch above anything that could be created by simply differing the amounts in the mixture of the barnacles' two naturally occurring chemical components.

After the snake was forced to bite into the barnacle’s flesh, the barnacle’s internal organ structures would begin to dissolve. Once an hour or so had passed, the only flesh inside the barnacle that had yet to dissolve were the reinforced membranes that separated the two chemicals. By this point, though, that separation was tenuous to say the least.

At that point, all it took was a relatively mild shaking of the barnacle's shell and the two separate chemicals inside would break through the barrier and mix with each other, causing a reaction that would increase the internal pressure enough to momentarily result in their shell being blown apart, sending deadly shrapnel in every direction. In other words, when deliberately used in this way, they became something of an automated trap that both ensnared and, in explosive fashion, killed whatever animal was unfortunate enough to try and wriggle free of its binding.

Most hunters preferred to use the barnacles the non-explosive way, since they could be reused and the animals caught could be dispatched in a less messy fashion. However, every young Ooura hunter–Banon included–had a phase where they preferred to use only the explosive version. Banon’s phase had lasted exactly one kill. After spending hours pulling bits of stony shell out of his catch only to find that even after he cooked it, it was still full of uncomfortable grainy bits of shell, he had sworn off ever using the explosive method again. Regardless, many hunters more squeamish about dealing with still-living prey stuck in their trap, due to the risk of said prey trying to defend itself, prefered the hands-free explosive option.

Banon presumed it had taken a very long time for someone to figure out the barnacles they used to snare animals so regularly could be used as bombs instead. But, then again, given enough time and enough boredom, many strange things could happen. As likely as anything though, the process had been found out by mistake, not deliberate experimentation.

Banon grunted his annoyance as he scanned yet another tree’s low branches and found no circular snakes among them, just plenty of various tree frog species and a pair of black dart snakes. Many of the frogs were actively calling for mates, and not only with their wobbling, high-pitched voices. They were glow frogs, a kind that were aptly named for their throats that glowed when they expanded to make their calls. After taking a second to watch the strangely serene blips of turquoise light among the branches, Banon huffed and continued on his way, annoyance growing by the moment.

Despite the circular snake being quite common in the jungle, when one needed to find one, they suddenly became illusive. The little yellow and red-striped snakes were notorious for being easy to spot, so much so that it almost seemed like they wanted you to spot them. Only that now… on this night when he needed them the most, they had all but disappeared from the jungle.

That was… until he came upon the absolute mother load of them.

After passing out of a thicket, suddenly a small clearing opened up. Until then, Banon had been so set on picking his next footfalls that he hadn’t realized how quickly he had made it to the base of one of those three Mew trees he spotted earlier, which now stood right in front of him, central in this clearing like a monolith. Around the visible base where its trunk penetrated up from beneath the mat, there were so many of the small yellow and red snakes Banon had to slap himself a few times to make sure he was seeing straight. Even stranger, growing directly out of the Mew bark was… well, it was one of the purple flowers the Yubuou favored so much.

Without missing a beat, Ugtang hooted and then hopped straight into the midst of the swarming venomous creatures. Banon’s momentary spike of alarm ended up being for nothing when the snakes began to clear out of the Yubuou’s way almost instantly, repelled by his very presence by some unseen force. Ugtang, single-minded as he was, promptly picked the flower, tucked it away, and it was gone somewhere Banon knew not where before he realized it.

Also, Banon was too busy diving after the fleeing snakes to care. He scooped several into the small woven satchel bag he had brought for this purpose. Unfortunately, more than half of the snakes managed to retreat beneath the mat before he could get them, causing Banon to shoot Ugtang an annoyed look while he nursed a finger that one of the snakes had managed to bite.

The round-faced Yubuou’s oblivious smile stretched from ear to ear.

***

Banon heaved a sigh of relief and scanned the place where his dual with nature’s toughest foe would take place. He had dozens of barnacles set up and ready to blow now, given only a stiff nudge. Each explosion would be more than enough to kill him if the detonation occurred against his torso, and probably much further away as well if he were to take an unlucky piece of shrapnel to the neck. Regardless, for a creature like the Orux, the explosions would cause it little harm past a brief moment of shock at the loud noise in combination with whatever shrapnel penetrated through its thick tangle of fur, which Banon bet wouldn’t be much.

That was fine. The barnacle bombs were something Banon hoped to be useful more for disorienting his opponent than actually hurting it. Really, the hope was that the perceived sudden attacks would send it spinning about in a panicked search for the non-existent secondary attacker, giving him a potential opening to make a decisive staff strike to the beast’s temples. Orux’s were simply nigh impenetrable when it came to any part of their body besides the small, furless, exposed area just under the horns. There, in that tiny patch of more than thrice thinner bone than the rest of its skull was the only hope a man had of tangling with the mighty Orux and coming out the better for it.

Normally, to fill this purpose, a whole team of Ooura would work in tandem to divert the attention of the Orux, while others came in from the sides while it was distracted and struck the decisive blows.

In this tangle, however, Banon would have no such luxuries.

All he had was preparation and luck.

And only luck left now, for his preparations were already exhausted.

Ugtang hooted as he swung among the low-lying tree bows along the edges of the clearing around the Orux den. Well, luck, preparation, and Ugtang, he supposed. Though his Yubuou friend's usefulness in the battle to come was easily the biggest unknown among those three factors.

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Banon reluctantly plopped down into a squat in front of the den’s entrance, tapping his fingers affectionately on his new staff. Waiting. He needed the rest, but recent experience had told him he couldn’t let himself relax too much.

He was banking, now, on three gambles.

One, that the bull would even come back tonight at all. If it had found a mate recently, it wouldn’t be seen here again for weeks.

Two was that he would manage to kill it without sustaining the kind of injuries that prevented him from returning back to his village in time for the ceremony of rites.

The third gamble was seeming less and less likely to come to pass… even he could admit that. Still, he wanted to be the one who brought the highest prize to the negotiation dinner as well. And not just because of his recent plan involving the dragon eagle. In fact, even though tricking the Pyathen princess into eating it would provide him an incredibly effective way to track her to her room, the process of actually climbing the Donai spire was the real hard part, and it was that part that would take far more planning and scheming. Thankfully, he had spent much time doing just that. In reality, even if he couldn’t pluck the dragon eagle from its perch, he would still find a way to push forward with his plan. It would just be one less boon in his favor.

There was another reason he wanted to be the one to return to the negotiation dinner with the undisputable highest prize. It was Ooura tradition, one they were quite proud of, to feed their rivals the very best their jungles had to offer during war talks. This applied to would be usurper chieftains among the Ooura themselves and even the Enka and Pyathen of course as well. Though known negotiations with the two lesser races were rare even into deep time, which mostly came down to the majority of those interactions ending in blood. Which was to say, not very official, nor with anyone left alive to keep the record of who fed who what.

It was the entire purpose of the royal hunt his father had sent out, to provide a meal of such esteemed game that anyone, Ooura, Enka, even Pyathen, would have to look upon it and marvel. It was a sort of dominance game. If you show up to talk of impending conflicts just to feed your enemy a beast that they could never hope to stalk and kill themselves, it would shake them, even if only in an indirect way.

Banon planned to outdo anything that the royal hunt could get their hands on, despite his brothers, father, and Brahman having both the numbers and the experience over him.

The Orux would be his first priority. Even he was not reckless enough to leave that for last. But after he had the main quarry downed, and had pulled its horned skull from its spine, then he would take to his second venture.

A dragon eagle.

For the dozenth time, Banon glanced up at the sky, searching for the first signs of dawn breaking, for that was when his quarry would return. Orux always did unless they found a successful mate. They were nocturnal only during their breeding season, oddly. The sky was still just as dark as it had been an hour ago, though, so Banon resumed his fight to stay awake, ruminating on just how close he had managed to cut this whole thing.

Even with all of his advantages, all his planning, the likelihood of failure was uncomfortably high. He could have taken the simple route, could have targetted a young Orux and he could have taken more time to consider if his plan to use the dragon eagle’s scent to track the princess back to her spire was really a stroke of genius… rather than a product of a mild bout of insanity. But he had never been a simple man. There was also the fact that all of his preparations laid out here were borderline cheating. It was no small part of his mind that feared what might happen if someone noticed the barnacle shrapnel embedded within the Orux carcass when he brought it back to the festival. Would the pieces of shell even penetrate the fur into flesh to begin with? If it didn't, there was nothing to worry about. But what if it did? What if Tema found out? After what Banon had done in response to his son’s challenge for dominance, there was no telling what that madman might do, and that was without any additional prompting. And then there was Ugtang… There wasn’t an explicit rule stating ‘no Yubuou help’, but Banon would bet his best three fingers Tema would tear his head off if he ever found out about it. And that was no figure of speech.

Banon blinked. What was that sound?

A soft tapping, like footsteps on stone…

And then, after a quick scan, he saw it.

Ugtang was jumping from one barnacle to the other. Barnacles that were all ripe to explode given any sufficiently jarring motion.

Banon momentarily considered trying to get the ape-man’s attention verbally and using Yubuou sign language to tell him to get off, but the urgency of the situation called for more decisive means. He lept to his feet and bounded over, scooped up Ugtang unceremoniously, and dived to the ground. He cradled Ugtang under his body, using it as a barrier for the impending explosion.

But none came.

Tentatively, Banon uncurled himself and peeked over at the barnacle bombs. No booms, no shrapnel filling his back. Huh. Ugtang really did have the deftest of feet on him. Even still… a little luck was all that had separated them from disaster.

Banon erupted to his feet, staring daggers and the Yubuou dangling within his grasp. Ugtang’s legs were swinging like he was still attempting to run, despite being held double his own height above the ground.

Without thinking, Banon rambled incoherent anger at the ape-man, desperate for him to understand that the barnacles were not an interesting obstacle course to pass the time with. Ugtang held his arms out and raised his chin, unrepentant. Banon… may have been beginning to regret bringing the Yubuou. His reasons for doing it in the first place were simple enough. He wanted some of that anti-danger aura the Yubuou provided nearby. And, while it would be ideal that Ugtang stay out of the actual combat, Banon had hoped the Yubuou’s vow of never hurting anything might exclude playing a little interference. You know, just being a distraction, hooting at the right moment to draw the bull's attention, that kind of thing. Banon knew the Yubuou was smart enough to do something like that, even without prompt.

But now it was somewhat hard not to reconsider his use of his half-monkey friend. Because that most certainly did feel like what he was doing. And using a friend, for a worthy purpose or not, was worse than deceiving even your worst enemy. The real reason for his anger was not at the Yubuou vigorously trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but at himself.

Banon held the monkey by the arms while he half heartedly tried to escape, though Ugtang did finally begin to sense something was going on, and that this was not some kind of game. Eventually, Ugtang scrunched up his face in unrestrained resentment and made a long hooting noise that conveyed complete and utter contempt. A smile flickered on Banon’s lips while he watched the monkey-man dangle in front of him without apology. It was then, however, that Banon felt Kimitrius call out to him. It was like an itch in his soul, and all he could do was answer.

He closed his eyes and abruptly sank his awareness into his inner mind, searching for the connection to his soul, and so to his God as well. Kimitrius?

Bright purple light flashed, causing Banon to open his eyes and startle, though it was so bright he could not even see Ugtang dangling in front of him. And just as soon as it had appeared, the light was gone. Banon was left with the sight of Ugtang, still dangling there, but with a faint purple light glittering in the back of his eyes and a placid expression, not struggling at all any longer. The Yubuou now looked back at him with a face that showed complete and total understanding. Banon didn’t have to second guess it, Yubuou had expressions that conveyed more than words could at times. It was as if Banon’s own intent had been beamed directly into his mind.

Maybe it had.

Banon set the monkey man down, who then ran off and went about climbing around the edges of the clearing. Banon watched as Ugtang hopped from branch to branch, taking a moment in between each leap to diligently scan the nearby jungle for danger. It seemed there had been more meaning encoded in that moment than he had thought. Banon sighed, taking a moment to shake his head, gratitude for the watcher rich in his heart. Thank you, older brother.

A warm feeling filled him.

With serenity and new vigilance burning brightly, Banon walked back over to the entrance to the Orux’s den and sat down. Not into an active squat this time. He didn’t feel the need. His mind was sharp, ready, awake. As if he had slept an hour in an instant. He could rest now, and feel no risk of dozing off. Not for a while, anyway. This wasn’t the first time his favor with the moon God had given him such a blessing, and he knew it would not last longer than a few hours, but during that time… Banon’s body would move with the same grace as the red sparrow whose flight could weave between fibers of a bowstring. And he would need it. And it still may not be enough.

From where he sat, he gazed among the barnacle bombs with new clarity, studying their layout and finding it sufficing. He then ran his fingers along the living reed staff lying in his lap, his sense of touch keen enough to perceive the slightest imperfect bumps and ridges. He then glanced at Ugtang, shooting his newly vigilant friend a knowing smile. Lastly, he closed his eyes and pictured the purple ringed eye of Kimitrius.

To friends, both big and small.

***

By the time he opened his eyes again, the area around him was illuminated with piercing pink and purple light. The sun was rising. Though it was not the light which had suddenly broken him out of his trance. There was a rumble in the air, a sound that grew in volume until Banon could feel it in his chest, a sound so piercing that his mind began to swim and blackness closed in on the edges of his vision. Orux calls were known to do such things but… this far away? He hadn’t even seen it enter the clearing yet, and if it could do such damage from so far away… it would likely knock him completely unconscious if he let it bellow its call within striking distance. Or perhaps it wouldn’t even need to be that close.

The call grew ever louder.

Banon was suddenly very tired, the Orux’s call shattering his serenity momentarily. All the sleep he had missed recently caught up with him all at once. He found he had teetered over onto his back. He scrambled, desperate to get up to his feet. His vision closed in and then was black.

And then he was wide awake again, and the sound had mercifully ended.

The Orux, it was here.

Across the clearing from him, the monstrous black silhouette emerged from the all-consuming blackness of the thick jungle. It was trailed by hundreds of goliath dung beetles–the species of dung beetle that constantly followed Orux around and could pose almost as much of a risk to hunters as the Orux itself at times, what with their deadly sharp elongated pincers and the penchant those massive, flying insects had for defending their source of nutrition. Normally, an Orux might be trailed by five or six of them. Following this titanic bull out of the jungle, there was a veritable horde of them. He counted a dozen already, and their flock was still not done emerging from the obscuring foliage.

Banon jumped to his feet. Despite his convictions, fear coarse through every inch of his body. The bull had already seen him, he knew, but it hardly let on as much. It only continued its slow stroll towards him, completely unthreatened by his presence.

Banon leveled his staff at the hulking creature approaching him from the dark forest line and found himself smiling, though his heart was not in it this time. “Death is the reward for a life well lived,” he said the words quiet as a grouse, feeling the sincerity with which he felt their meaning sink into his bones. He was ready to die. If this was the time, then so be it. What were his later goals worth if he could not first accomplish a feat worth becoming the foundations of his claim to the empire?

The beast became more hesitant after seeing that Banon was not intending to back down or flee. It shuffled along the edge of his clearing, its glittering eyes a brilliant yellow instead of Orux’s usual red, meaning it was over fifty years old.

Banon grunted in an imitation of a rival bull.

Without warning, it charged.