Monkey Wars Read Online Free PDF Page A

follow me.”
    The monkeys looked at him suspiciously. As he smiled, the stranger twitched his ears—a quirky mannerism that gave him an endearing appeal.
    “Let’s face it,” he said, looking down at the mountains of trash that now hid the python, “I can’t be any worse than him, can I?”

M ico woke early, his nostrils twitching. The sweet smell of mangoes and banyan leaf had bowled into the room in the night, and he lay there for a few moments savoring the damp scents. It was all so different to life outside the cemetery; there you awoke to a cacophony of smells all wrestling with one another—drains and cooking and people and smoke and the pungent oil of engines.
    He swung down from his stone perch—none of his family were stirring, but it was out of the question that he should go back to sleep on such a beautiful morning, so he scampered out of the doorway and climbed up onto the roof to discover that the whole troop seemed to have been lulled into a deep slumber.
    The solitude was so enticing; it was as if Mico was the only monkey in the world and laid out all around him was his own personal playground. He just had to explore.
    He clambered and swung his way from tomb to tomb, examining everything closely, studying the strange engravings. On some tombs he found pictures, a pointed star or a cross; on others there were solid shapes—a marble peacock, frozen mid-strut, an upturned stone hat that collected rainwater and now served as a bird bath.
    But most common of all were the marble depictions of human babies with wings on their backs that seemed to smile down at him from all directions. Mico wondered why he had never seen these flying babies darting around the skies above the city; they looked so mischievous and full of energy he couldn’t imagine why they kept themselves hidden.
    And it was just as he was running his fingers over the delicate features of one of these cherubs that he heard the footsteps.
    Swiftly he scurried inside a hollow tomb and peered out through the ventilation holes, just as some elites appeared. Mico held his breath, fearful that the soldiers were on another brutal mission.
    Two columns of soldiers marched on either side of the central pathway, and between them strode the leaders of the langur troop—General Pogo, Deputies Tyrell and Hani, and, most important of all, Lord Gospodar.
    They processed with great solemnity toward the huge cemetery gates, but something about the way the elites’ eyes constantly scanned the shadows gave the whole thing a clandestine air. Mico felt certain that if they knew he was watching he would be in big trouble, but now it was too risky to make a dash for home; he’d never make it without being spotted. So instead he made himself as comfortable as he could and watched in silence.
    —
    The elites formed a ceremonial line on either side of the path as General Pogo slid the heavy bolt back and swung the gates open. Then Lord Gospodar strode out of the cemetery, followed at a respectful distance by Tyrell and Hani.
    The lord ruler paused and gazed out proudly across the city. He had led his monkeys out of the desperate scramble for survival on Kolkata’s streets below up to this, the fortress of their cemetery. How many monkeys could look back on their lives and say they had made such a difference? Gospodar knew in his heart that he had done well.
    And then, irritatingly, Tyrell stepped forward and punctured the moment. “Sometimes I worry that the humans take us for granted.”
    Gospodar sighed. Tyrell was small for a langur, but he had a sharp, agile mind that never missed a trick, and this, rather than martial prowess, had won him influence. His habit of over-analyzing could be annoying, but Tyrell was a vital part of the langur success story, so Gospodar was patient and smiled indulgently.
    “Your worrying is what makes you a good deputy, but it’s turning your fur white.”
    Tyrell was not going to let the point drop. “We must