The High-Stakes Chase

“Get the orange one! It’s wilder!” the leader shouted.

I turned and bolted into the thickest, thorniest brush I could find. For a young orangutan, thorns were just minor annoyances; our thick, shaggy hair protected us from the sharpest briars. But for the humans in their stiff, heavy clothes, the brush was a green prison.

I could hear them crashing behind me, cursing as the thorny vines snagged their jackets and tripped their heavy boots.

“He’s too fast!” a voice cried out from somewhere in the thorns. “I’m stuck! My sleeve is caught!”

I scrambled up a young mahogany tree, climbing until the branches became thin and whippy. From this vantage point, I could see the entire clearing. Goma had used the distraction perfectly. He had looped around the perimeter and was now crouching behind the humans’ supply crates near the edge of the forbidden boundary.

He caught my eye and gave a subtle, decisive nod. The plan was clear. It was time to end this little game.

I swung from the mahogany tree to a neighboring wild fig tree, dropping down onto a branch right above the lead human’s head. He was struggling to untangle his camera gear from a thick loop of wild orchid vines.

“Looking for this?” I chirped.

I reached down, snatched the bright blue cap right off his head, and popped it onto my own. It was a little big, sliding down over one of my eyes, but I felt incredibly stylish.

“Hey! Give that back, you little thief!” he yelled, lunging upward.

I leaped backward, easily clearing his grasp, and threw a large, overripe wild mango right at his chest. It exploded in a glorious splash of sticky yellow pulp, painting a perfect bullseye on his jacket.

“Bullseye!” I cheered, clapping my hands. 🥭