From the Shores of Eden by Shelley Penner Exclusive Preview

RCN Media
Oct 3, 2021
24 min read

Updated: Oct 12, 2021

INTRODUCTION

While the intention of this book is simply to entertain, it also is meant to bring together disparate legends and theories in a work of speculative fiction to show how they could fit together into a relatively harmonious mythology that explains lingering questions about human evolution, like: where was the garden of Eden; why have we never found evidence of the missing link between apes and man; how was the first religion started; where did the myth of mermaids come from; what was the scientific basis for the plagues in Egypt; how could a virgin give birth?

One of the theories that particularly piqued my interest was Alistair Hardy’s Aquatic Ape theory — that our ape ancestors went through an aquatic phase in their evolution that shaped their physiology and caused them to develop verbal language. The other theory these stories illustrate is Immanuel Velikovski’s theory that Venus was originally a huge comet on a long elliptical orbit that caused havoc in the solar system whenever it passed through. The theory gained little acceptance amongst the scientific community, who considered it ‘pseudoscience’ because it is based not on scientific evidence, but on eyewitness accounts in ancient texts from around the world.

The two passages that precede each chapter piece together stories in themselves, the first as a metaphor for the rise of human civilization, the second illustrating Immanuel Velikovski’s theory that Venus entered the solar system from space and wreaked havoc as it rampaged through the inner planetary system again and again through the millennia, causing changes that shaped our planet and the destiny of thousands of species, including our own.

As a whole, this book symbolizes th

e initiation of the human species into adulthood. Each short story represents a single ritual in the male initiation ceremonies common to many Stone Age cultures.

FIRST RITUAL – SEPARATION FROM THE MOTHER AND THE DEATH OF CHILDHOOD

Recent genetic research provides evidence that we all share one common ancestor from whom all modern humans spring. According to legend, that ancestor was Eve. In EDENSONG, as climate change decimates the rainforest, on a small island off the east coast of Africa, Eve is separated from her clan and discovers a new way of life on the seashore.

SECOND RITUAL – VISION QUEST

In SEA CHANGE, the descendants of Eve live a semi-aquatic life that brings about changes in their physiology, language and culture. Exiled from his Tribe, Eggsucker experiences a vision that guides him to become a leader and start the first religion.

THIRD RITUAL – REBIRTH

In EXODUS, an early human Tribe moves to the mainland savannah where, against all tradition, Huda becomes the first male Keeper of the Mother’s Secrets and leads his people on the first migration northward.

FOURTH RITUAL – CIRCUMCISION

MILK OF THE MOTHER, as the pivotal story of the series, describes the initiation rituals in detail and tells the tale of a young family of Stone Age humans who are torn away from their Tribe by tragic accident and break ancient taboos to unwittingly become the first farmers.

FIFTH RITUAL – PURIFICATION

In THE RAINBOW SERPENT, misunderstandings between the farming/herding culture and the hunter/gatherer culture bring about a tragic massacre during which two young tribal people are taken captive and come under the protection of a family of farmers.

SIXTH RITUAL – SECLUSION AND REVELATION

MISTRESS OF CHAOS tells the story of Moses and the plagues in Egypt from the perspective of Immanuel Velikovski’s theory that Venus originally entered the solar system as a planet-sized comet that nearly collided with Earth.

SEVENTH RITUAL – BETROTHAL

THE BETROTHAL tells the story of Jesus and represents the generation of a new seed, the beginning of a reunification between Heaven and Earth, God and man, male and female, through love, compassion and self-sacrifice.

1.

Infinity spins in darkness, a void, an immortal well of energy potential. The Feminine Principle dreams of fulfillment, a receptive womb waiting for something to initiate its creative function. The magnetic Masculine Principle joins her, completes her, moves rhythmically within her, generating an explosion of active realization, forming energy into matter. In the thrust and retreat, life and death unfolding of material reality, time takes measure. The dual principles combine to form a Seed. Within its deepest heart, the singing of its secret name reverberates with infinite potential. Its shell of innocence encapsulates perfection, the unity of spirit and body, dream and actuality, positive and negative, the cycles of eternity, the simplicity and complexity of worlds within worlds within worlds. It is the Beginning…and the End.

* * *

From the deep reaches of space, the celestial traveler comes, a lost planet, a wandering goddess clothed in flame. Caught up in the Sun’s attraction, the enormous comet is drawn into a long, elliptical orbit that stretches far into the darkness beyond the solar system and takes millennia to complete. With each approach to her lodestar, she loses a little of her freedom. With each pass through the solar system, she disturbs the family of planets, wrenching them from their orbits, bathing them in fire and destruction, causing ripples of change that will shape their destinies forever — and her own.

EDENSONG

First Ritual: Separation From The Mother And The Death Of Childhood

AS IF SEEKING solitude, the island stood apart from the continental landmass, a demure virgin sitting, folded knee, upon a rumpled cloth of diamond-dusted sapphire, a peaceful mother rocking her children to sleep in the cradle of creation. The mountain which formed her torso thrust up proudly, square shouldered, naked and primal, crowned with white wings of mist. A rich brocade of emerald and verdigris clothed her flanks and pooled about her knees, perfumed with passion-red and milk-white lilies, beaded and bejeweled with luscious fruits, sequined with bright, flashing wings and fringed by golden sand and sedge-green salt marsh. From her bare breast flowed a river, an inverted tree, life’s blood and mother’s milk, coursing down her lush thighs and plunging into the moist, mysterious vale of her feminine cleft.

The ancient river existed even before the mountain which rooted it close to the heavens. At one time it flowed through Stygian channels and vast, lightless caverns, but the volcanic fault that ran beneath the island buckled the earth skyward and blocked the river’s course. Forced to ascend through myriad cracks, it fountained from the stony earth in a multitude of small rivulets and springs. Feeder roots braided together to form radial streams, congregated into a vigorous taproot and cut a deep gorge down the flank of the mountain, until it reached the level valley and the river’s trunk. Meandering through green tunnels of lacy vegetation, it followed a serpentine path to the sea. There, on the silty delta, the river divided once again into spreading branches, supporting the vast canopy of the ocean.

Millennia passed. The celestial wanderer appeared, wreaked havoc once again and passed on. The planet shuddered, shifted in its orbit, rocked by earthquakes, fire storms and volcanoes. The climate changed and the two-thousand-year Pliocene drought began, forcing massive ecological adaptation. Growing polar ice caps claimed more and more of the sea’s substance and new coastlines began to emerge. Temperatures grew cooler and rains scarcer. Rents appeared in the fabric of the rainforest and the lace of vegetation turned brown and brittle. The island faded into an old crone, her wisdom exposed in the bones of the earth. But the river flowed on, a guide, a message, a celestial template.

* * *

Her birth marked the evening of the day, the end of a way of life, the death of childhood for a species, therefore, we shall call her Eve.

All day the hills had resounded with the gathering calls of the Tribe, but Mama remained unable to respond. Alone in a night nest high in the sheltering arms of the forest canopy, she labored to give birth. Just as the sun surrendered to its nightly death, leaving a smear of red along the cutting edge of the horizon, a rising tide of muscular contractions swept Eve into the world. Mama rested, settling for the night with her new daughter tucked protectively in the crook of her elbow.

* * *

From Shores of Eden

Buy Now

In the bright chill of early morning, the Tribe descended from the trees and gathered on the open, grassy bluff above the river gorge that marked the border of their territory. Overlooking the cliff edge, a broad, spreading mbula tree cast naked limbs heavenward in eerie supplication to the dry-burnished, merciless shield of sky. In seasons past this ancient giant had provided generous sustenance. Now the apes regarded it with a dim stirring of bewildered apprehension, sensing changes beyond their understanding. At the end of one branch a solitary, parched leaf fluttered like a snared sparrow. The sibilant voice of water whispered far below, and the seductive hand of the wind promised liberty. With a snap that shivered silently through the desiccated wood, the leaf sailed free, drifting inevitably downward in a gliding spiral. It came to rest on the surface of a thin silver runnel trickling over the rocks.

Nutcracker watched the leaf disappear downstream, then shrugged off her uneasiness and leaped into the branches with a cry of defiance. She climbed to a comfortable perch and gazed down on her companions with contemptuous superiority. Ignoring her impudence, Scarface, the alpha male, ambled over and settled beneath her. Scarface remained unique amongst his kind. Except for the grotesque scars that puckered his face into a fearsome mask, his appearance remained fairly typical — short, bandy legs ending in handlike feet, heavily muscled shoulders and long arms, knuckles thickly callused from bearing the bulk of his weight over varied terrain, and a pelt of coarse black hair, thickening about the head into a mane and beard which bristled alarmingly when tempers flared. No, what set Scarface apart was not his appearance, but his character and his history, for he was not born of the Tribe.

From the eastern lowlands he came, a solitary, battered exile. As a highly communal species, the maned apes remained dependent on family ties, and they rarely prospered outside their social group. But Scarface had an unusual tolerance for solitude and a stubbornness which refused to surrender. When scouts first sighted him wandering the lower slopes, his face crusted with half-healed wounds, the males of the Tribe banded together to drive off the intruder. Wounded and outnumbered, Scarface stood his ground and battled with unparalleled ferocity, until his attackers finally backed off, awed and intimidated. Never before had a stranger trespassed on clan territory and survived. They tried again, many times over the years, but they could never defeat him or drive him away. For a time, he lived on the fringes of Tribal society, avoided, occasionally challenged, but treated with healthy respect. As time passed, familiarity slowly grew into acceptance and he forged alliances, first amongst the females, who began to accept his sexual overtures, then amongst the younger males. And, over time, he worked his way up the chain of dominance to challenge the alpha male himself, old Greybeard, and won.

Under the mbula tree, the senior males gathered around Scarface, alert and nervous. They gazed intently across the gorge. The sun rose higher and the chill breeze began to warm a little, rustling in the dry grass like a live thing. The tree line offered shelter, but none of the apes moved to seek it out. The Tribe waited in silence, bound together by invisible threads of tension and anticipation. An updraft sighed out of the ravine, carrying the distant scent of fermenting fruit and vegetation, the warm exhalation of the lowland jungle.

* * *

Mama moved slowly down familiar trails, stopping occasionally to rest. Though tired and sore, a sense of urgency drove her on. Eve clung beneath her with reflexive strength, and Mama kept a supportive arm around the newborn. Stomach rumbling with hunger, she paused to harvest a few shriveled berries. Once the highlands provided a rich, productive garden, lush with succulent fruits, sweet honeyed blossoms and nutritious leafy forage. Now the Tribe could search all day, spread out over their entire territory, without finding enough to fill their bellies. Too many important food sources had succumbed to years of drought and chill temperatures. On the continent the dwindling rainforest gave way to grasslands, but here on this island the effects of climate change were softened by proximity to the sea, and a remnant of the jungle that once spanned the continent still struggled to survive.

Mama hurried on. The calls which echoed through the forest yesterday went unvoiced this morning, and the silence gave her a lonely, anxious feeling. She squatted on her haunches, listening. A breath of wind rustled through the dry leaves like a death rattle. Far away a troupe of monkeys shrieked in panic as some predator sent them scattering through the treetops. Mama shivered. Alone she remained vulnerable. Only in numbers could she find any security.

* * *

Nutcracker detected movement on the far slope and grunted a warning. Hooter and Throwsrocks leaped to join her in the branches, while their companions on the ground stiffened, attention riveted on the opposite ridge. Brush shivered and swayed, then parted as two strangers stepped into view, a rival border patrol. The pair pulled up short and stared across the gap at the highlanders. They shifted uneasily, exchanging quick, sidelong glances, caresses of reassurance. Encouraged by the depth and breadth of the ravine, the strangers began hooting the vocal recognition call of their tribe, a sound which under normal circumstances would discourage trespassers from encroaching.

A violent light came into Scarface’s eyes and every hair on his body bristled upright. His chest vibrated in thunderous threat. Subordinates scrambled to a discrete distance. With a savage bellow of challenge, he erupted into an explosive display of strength and ferocity, raging back and forth along the verge, pummeling the dusty earth, tearing up grass and small shrubs, hurling rocks and debris as far across the gap as he could. Overcome by tension and wild excitement, the rest of the Tribe began shrieking and flinging insults as well. The strangers replied, displaying wildly in an attempt to appear more formidable. But their efforts only threw Scarface into a frenzy. With a strangled shriek, he flung himself over the rim and avalanched down the slope in a cloud of dust. After an instant of startlement, his five lieutenants followed enthusiastically. Outnumbered and intimidated, the border patrol fled.

* * *

Sounds of vocal combat drew Mama to the bluff top. She wandered out of the trees just as the war party vanished into the depths of the ravine. Her adolescent son, First Born, spotted her immediately and hurried over to greet her, followed by his younger brother, Tickles. Mama settled wearily into a crouch, with Eve cradled protectively behind knees and folded forearms. First Born began grooming Mama, sifting through her coarse, dark hair, as much for his own comfort as for hers. Tickles huddled against her and pushed his face against the crook of her arm, begging to suckle. She had weaned the five-year-old a year ago, but Mama’s overnight absence had shaken the youngster. The milky smell of Mama’s breast offered reassurance. She moved her arm and a tiny face peeked out. Tickles squeaked in surprise and scanned quickly to see if anyone else noticed the apparition. The Tribe sprawled at ease on the sunny slope, waiting for some unsounded signal, oblivious to the tiny newcomer. Only Nutcracker showed curiosity. She settled next to her sister and tried discretely to get a glimpse of the new baby.

Greybeard began to pace, sampling the faint updraft impatiently. He squatted for a moment, listening intently. He hooted a loud tribal call. No reply came back. He wavered for a moment, undecided, then grunted commandingly and started down the defile. The Tribe rose and followed without hesitation. Many years had passed since Scarface challenged Greybeard for supremacy, but the old male’s status remained high, and in the absence of other dominant males, he resumed his role of leadership.

Following the rich aroma of ripe budyankende, the Tribe scrambled down the stream bed, negotiating a maze of tumbled boulders, until the water plunged over the rim of a high shelf into a deep pool far below. First Born quickly discovered a route down the steep bluff, and Greybeard, tolerant in his old age, permitted the youngster to take the lead. In the shelter of the rock wall, warmed by the afternoon sun and watered by the pool, a thicket of budyankende survived, heavy with sweet, yellow fruit. The Tribe eagerly began gorging themselves.

Sometime later, Scarface’s voice roared out a location call from the top of the bluff and Mama paused to add her voice to the answering chorus. The six dominant males came crashing down the trail and swaggered into the thicket, hair still on end, exuding a perfume of blood and violence. Nutcracker moved aside cautiously, surrendering her feeding spot, but First Born edged closer to the big males, fascinated by the wild scent and the powerful mystique. Hooter, the beta male, began stuffing fruit into his mouth greedily. The sticky juice dripped down his chin and glistened in his bristling beard. First Born began hesitantly grooming the big male’s back, breathing deeply the fragrance of aggressive maleness. Hooter slowly relaxed, his mane and beard subsiding at last.

* * *

From Shores of Eden

Buy Now

Eve reached the age of three years before the Beast first cast its shadow across her life. Through her early, happy years, she grew into a confident, sociable youngster, full of playful vigor. She learned the language of her kind, rich in signs and body language, accented by a few vocal expressions. She came to know the voices of the earth and discovered that every living thing vibrated with a silent song, unheard, but not beyond perception. And the song of the thing became its name, the essence of its being, its life force. She learned to recognize those songs which vibrated in harmony with her own, and those which could harm her.

Next to Mama, Eve’s two brothers became the most important individuals in her life. Though Tickles remained her most frequent playmate, First Born became particularly dear, her protector, her hero. Once when she became separated from Mama and wandered lost and frightened, First Born found her and comforted her. And when the big males frequently showed off in a raging display of aggression, pounding anything that didn’t move out of the way, First Born gathered up his little sister and fled with her to the safety of the higher branches.

But over the years, First Born grew up. The females now gave way before his superior male strength. He began to spend less time travelling with his family and more in the company of other males. Since the Tribe’s migration down from the mountain, the males no longer disappeared for days at a time on border patrols, for they no longer defended any fixed territory. But the dominant males did make frequent tours of the loosely scattered foraging groups, mating with any females who came into season and reinforcing the discipline of the hierarchy, binding the Tribe into a cohesive force. They had become nomads, invaders in rival territory, and any serious alarms brought the entire Tribe together on the run. Females with infants kept their distance from dangerous altercations, but the highlanders won many inter-tribal skirmishes due to the participation of adolescents and unburdened females. In general, though, life remained peaceful, and food along the river still plentiful.

The day Eve first became aware of the Beast was a day to remember for more reasons than one, because that day it rained for the first time in months. Eve awakened as usual, high in the jungle canopy, in a cozy night nest where she snuggled close to Mama. Once the sun warmed away the morning chill, an oppressive atmosphere settled over the river valley like a heavy hand pressed over the heart. The songs of the jungle seemed muted, colorless. The apes foraged listlessly through the early part of the day, then settled in a patch of sun to rest. But the youngsters, with their boundless energy, continued to play. By midafternoon, Eve chased Tickles through the lower branches in a noisy game of tag. She had almost caught up with him when the entire world suddenly reverberated in a massive explosion that rumbled on and on, like the deep, threatening sound Scarface made when angry, only bigger, louder, more terrifying. Eve screamed and sprinted for the safety of Mama’s embrace. The daylight faded abruptly, as if some tremendous giant loomed over them, blotting out the sun. Eve whimpered and clung tighter to Mama, while Tickles shivered close, bewildered. The rest of the foraging group hurriedly joined them: Blossom and her youngster, Dandy, Nutcracker, Hooter, Greybeard and adolescent Swinger. They huddled together for reassurance as the world around them vanished behind a torrential veil of chilling rain. For a time, life became an exercise in enduring misery.

The rain ended soon, however, far too soon after years without a rainy season. Soon sunlight once more spilled through the ragged, broken canopy. The earth breathed a fragrant sigh of relief. The sun seemed warmer, friendlier, the colors of the forest richer, the air more nourishing. The voices of the jungle sang with renewed vigor. Shards of light glistened from every leaf and branch bejeweled with shimmering droplets. An ineffable sense of delight suffused Eve. Standing upright, hands lifted to the heavens, she twirled and stamped and pirouetted in a joyous celebration of life.

Later that same afternoon, Eve and Dandy played follow-the-leader while their elders rested and groomed each other nearby. Eve had difficulty keeping up with Dandy, almost a year older, but she followed with dogged stubbornness reminiscent of Scarface. If she fell too far behind, Dandy stopped and waited. Then off he went again, hand over hand along a lower branch, to hang from the end and bounce a few times, then drop to the ground, scoot across the clearing between Swinger and Blossom, scale the side of a rotting log and run its length. He paused for a moment to dig out a fat grub and allow Eve to catch up, then he jumped to the ground on the far side and dove down a slope, sprang into the branches, higher, higher, leaped across to the waiting arms of another tree, swung down a liana and dropped into the brush below. Eve still hesitated over the gap between the trees when she heard Dandy scream, a piercing shriek of starkest terror that locked Eve’s muscles and shocked her mute. Below her the bushes shivered as a thick, scaly body arched up and lashed out, flattening the surrounding vegetation. Like a huge, animated vine it lapped its coils around her playmate and slowly constricted. Shrieks of horror abraded Eve’s throat. Clan members crashed to the rescue from every direction. From the safety of the trees, they screamed their hatred and rained rocks and debris on the predator. The huge serpent just tightened his helix. Dandy’s eyes bulged. Blood bubbled from his mouth, which now screamed in silence. A shadow moved across him, the shadow of a huge, invisible Beast that sucked the light from his eyes and passed on. In the joyous symphony of the jungle, the song of the Beast was a deadly silence.

Eve buried herself in Mama’s arms, grief stricken and terrified. For years after, the trauma of that experience haunted her. Depressed, confidence shattered, she could not wander more than a few steps from Mama’s side without feeling frightened and vulnerable, and she woke often in the night whimpering and shivering from bad dreams. For the first time she became aware of the gaps in the vibratory symphony of the rainforest. Whole sections of the orchestra remained silent, and others faltered.

Only a few days later, First Born disappeared, and Eve somehow knew the Beast had taken him too.

* * *

Sweething had come into estrus. The alluring sight of her pink, distended bottom drew the males like bees to a flower. They clustered around her, inhaling her heady perfume, waiting for an opportunity to couple. But Scarface commandeered her favors and guarded her jealously, as he did all females in their season, the privilege of the alpha male. However, when he became busy disciplining one subordinate, another always waited to take advantage of his distraction. And Sweething willingly obliged them.

Though well-established in the male hierarchy, First Born remained young yet and low status. His place in the hierarchy offered few opportunities to mate. If Scarface didn’t chase him off, one of the other mature males usually did. He hung around the fringes of the group, foraging diligently, pretending indifference while he edged closer and closer to Sweething. He glanced over at Scarface. The alpha male sat with eyes closed blissfully while Hooter groomed him. First Born looked at Sweething and thought about what he wanted to do. The evidence of his desire rose up and pointed at her. But the evidence looked a little too blatant. With a roar of indignation, Scarface hurled himself across the clearing, pinned First Born to the ground and pummeled him until he screamed in pain and terror. Scrambling to escape, the youngster fled into the safety of the trees.

Humiliated and sexually frustrated, First Born turned his attentions to Fancy, a young female nearing estrus, but not yet attractive enough to draw attention away from Sweething. He offered her a choice piece of fruit and she accepted the gift. He sat beside her and groomed her while she continued foraging. During the afternoon rest period he lay next to her, sharing warmth and companionship. Then, when he thought he’d spent enough time to establish a bond, he grabbed an overhanging branch and shook it, a signal that he wanted her to come with him. He walked away, but only her indifferent stare followed. He returned patiently and repeated the performance, several times, and at last she rose desultorily and trailed after him.

They hadn’t gone far before she began to feel nervous. She sat down, looking back. First Born groomed her for a while until she calmed, then he repeated his branch shaking, urging her on. She rose and started back.

With a cry of frustration, he chased after her, stamping and pounding the ground, tearing at bushes and throwing rocks, displaying his superior male strength and the depth of his displeasure at her lack of cooperation. Cowed and penitent, Fancy crouched submissively, and when he again shook a branch she followed immediately, if reluctantly. And so they continued, with First Born alternately bullying and reassuring his consort, occasionally having to resort to physical violence to convince her, until at last they moved far enough from the safety of the clan that Fancy felt only too glad to stay close to her sole protector.

Three days later, Fancy’s pink posterior blossomed into full estrus. Free of the stress of competition, the pair lived a leisurely, idyllic lifestyle, foraging and playing and resting together, mating whenever they felt the urge. Such private consortships remained nature’s way of increasing the gene pool and ensuring that not only the strong reproduced, but also those with intelligence, imagination and personal appeal. However, when the highlanders became invaders in foreign territory, the privacy of consortship became a dangerous luxury.

In a day nest on the ground, First Born and Fancy rested together companionably. Her swelling subsided several days earlier and her sexual attractiveness dwindled with it, but they had established a bond of friendship that could last for years. A furtive rustling drew her attention and she sat up nervously. A low grunt issued from the brush to the left of their resting place. First Born leaped up, hair bristling wildly. The couple exchanged nervous grins and touched each other for reassurance, then, of one accord, retreated hastily. In a shocking explosion of violence, four heavy-shouldered, fully mature males burst out of ambush and assaulted them savagely. One leaped on First Born’s shoulders, driving him to the ground and knocking the wind from him. Screaming in terror, Fancy abandoned him and fled south, followed by a single pursuer who quickly gave up the chase and rejoined his companions. With merciless brutality they bit and pounded and stamped on their helpless enemy. First Born had little chance to defend himself and no chance to escape.

* * *

From the Shores of Eden (eBook)

Buy Now

Eve watched intently as Nutcracker carefully positioned a palm nut on the hard anvil of a tree root and smashed it open with a hammer stone. Eve held her hand out in a pleading gesture, and Nutcracker, ever the indulgent aunt, relinquished the prize without hesitation, then shinnied up the tree to fetch another. She moved with less than her usual grace and agility. After years of barrenness, Nutcracker had at last become pregnant. Mama had recently given birth as well. Almost a year ago, Mama finally came into estrus again, and soon afterwards her milk had dried up. Mama’s sudden sexual popularity coupled with the forced weaning seemed almost as traumatic for Eve as Dandy’s death and sent her into a gloom of depression. Though Mama lavished her with reassuring attention, only the sudden appearance of a baby sister eight months later finally restored Eve’s joie de vivre, filling her with curiosity, delight and maternal envy.

A fruit pit struck Eve behind the left ear and she shook her head, glancing around in bewilderment. A tiny, merry face peered from between the leaves, chittering in mischievous amusement. Eve bared her teeth fiercely at the female colobus monkey, though they both knew no real animosity existed between them. The noisy troupe of smaller primates had followed the foraging group all day, pelting them with twigs and refuse. As the little female moved higher, Eve noticed a tiny infant clinging to her belly fur.

A sudden stir of excitement electrified the members of Eve’s foraging group. Scarface and Throwsrocks swaggered into the clearing, and Hooter and Greybeard hurried to greet the alpha male, touching hands briefly in a sign of welcome. The four males stared at each other tensely, communicating by subtle gestures and shifts of stance, some message Eve didn’t understand. But Tickles plainly did. He followed as the two subordinate males positioned themselves in the trees. Scarface and Hooter casually strolled farther down the trail. Though they all appeared quite innocent, Eve sensed something strangely furtive in their movements. Scarface stopped, ascended into the branches and began feeding on leaves, while Hooter continued alone. After travelling some distance away, he too climbed into the lower canopy and began working his way back toward the monkeys, who socialized noisily just at the edge of the clearing. With a sudden roar of intimidation, Hooter rushed them, sending them scattering. The audience below added cries of excitement and encouragement to the piercing cacophony of terror, but Eve watched in silent shock as Scarface snatched a colobus monkey out of the air and ripped the baby from her arms. He released the mother, but his teeth closed over the baby’s tiny head with a sickening crunch. The panicked troupe fled back towards Hooter, who drove them east into the waiting arms of Throwsrocks and Greybeard. The shadow of the Beast swooped back and forth through the canopy.

Though Eve had eaten meat before, viewing it as just another kind of food, she had never before observed the brutal violence of the hunt or associated the dismembered pieces of bloody flesh with terrified victims. Tickles returned proudly with a tiny red colobus baby hanging limp in his hand. It looked disturbingly like their new sister, Little One. Mama immediately begged a share, and Tickles tore his prize in two, handing her a lower quarter. When Mama offered Eve a joint, she accepted it listlessly and sat holding it, staring blankly into the shadows, overwhelmed by the realization that, not only could the Beast change its aspect, it could wear the shape of her own kind. A short while later, when Tickles, having greedily consumed his own share, snatched Eve’s portion and made off with it, she offered no protest.

* * *

In the near distance, the screams and roars of Scarface disciplining a subordinate drew a nervous grin of sympathy from Eve but offered her a sense of security. The warm weight of Little One on her back gave joy and comfort, as did the sight of Mama just a few paces ahead. All around, faint rustlings and grunts pinpointed the individuals of her group foraging through the undergrowth. Mama discovered a cluster of leaves rolled into cylinders and began picking them apart to get at the juicy caterpillars inside. Little One, almost two years old now, slid from her perch and climbed Mama’s shoulders, reaching for an overhead branch. Mama caught her by one ankle and pulled her back down, then strolled on, down the sloping bank to the edge of the river. Between a wall of sheer rock and a thick curtain of overhanging vegetation, a narrow strip of beach gave easy access to the water. Many animals came here to drink, and the clay of the shore looked deeply indented with footprints.

Unseen, a shadow moved within shadows.

Mama leaned forward to drink and Little One slipped off her shoulders to land with a splash and a small squeak of surprise. Mama quickly pulled her back to shore. Fear of submersion remained firmly entrenched in the ape psyche. The wide, deep channels of the river proved a far more effective barrier to the highlanders than the mountain gorge ever could.

Eve caught a flicker of movement in the shallows and wandered up the beach to investigate. Tiny fingerlings darted in and out between the rocks. Wary of falling in, she dabbed at the surface with a branch. The tiny fish vanished. Little One joined her and tried to initiate a tickle session, but Eve became enchanted by the watery reflections of light shimmering across the shadowy bottom and paid no attention. Only when she heard the quick thumpity-thump of padded footfalls did she look up and turn just in time to see a huge, shadow-black monster launch itself from the top of the bank and drive Mama to the ground. Mama screamed and tried to escape, but hooked claws gripped her sides. Fever-hot breath scalded the back of her neck as teeth closed over her spine and crushed it in one quick bite. Eve shrieked in terrified protest. The Beast turned on her, wearing the body of a black leopard, its face a bloody, snarling mask.

Little One swarmed up Eve’s arm and onto her back, and Eve, trapped against the sheer cliff, blindly took the only route of escape. For an instant, panic overcame her fear of the water and she charged out until the bottom dropped away beneath her and she plunged beneath the surface. Little One instinctively released her hold and tried to swim, but the current swept her away. Only then did Eve realize that the Beast, which could become a snake or an ape or a black cat, could also become a river. It bit into her eyes, slithered into her ears and clawed its way down her throat, constricting her breathing, searching for her life spark. Terror gave her strength to fight, but she kicked and flailed at the water to no purpose. It would not surrender, and she could not hurt it. Then her feet found the bottom, a slab of basalt rising as a solid bastion against the deep current on either side. She scrambled onto its flat plateau and stood upright, breaking the surface into light and air. Choking and coughing, she struggled for balance. She remained submerged almost to her shoulders but, surprisingly, though the current pushed at her, the water also supported her.

The black cat stalked to the river’s edge and stared at Eve, calmly judging the distance. It dipped one paw as if testing the temperature, then shook it distastefully and backed away. Mama lay unmoving in a welter of blood. The Beast had stolen her song. Little One had disappeared, taken by the river.

The Tribe gathered in the trees, screaming hatred for their ancient enemy, showering the cat with broken branches and fecal matter. But they could do little more than annoy it. Tickles courageously approached close enough to score a solid hit with a hefty rock. The cat whirled, snarling, and charged him, and the young ape sprinted up a tree with the enemy breathing on his heels. In a tremendous, panic-inspired effort, Tickles leaped across to safety in a neighboring tree. Disgruntled, the cat returned to its meal, ignoring further efforts to drive it away. It began licking Mama’s body with a strange tenderness, as if washing one of its own young.

Twilight sucked the last vestiges of light from the sky and passed on into darkness. The apes finally gave up their vigil and went to build nests for the night, all except Tickles and Nutcracker, silent now, waiting for the cat to leave, waiting for Eve. Numb with grief and shock and the chill of the water, Eve remained unable to respond to their frequent calls of encouragement. Mercifully, she could no longer see the black monster devouring Mama. The moon rose above the canopy and cast the world in silver, but deep shadows lurked beneath the trees overhanging the beach. Eve caught a glimpse of eyes shining in the darkness. The Beast waited for her, waited with the cat. Its eyes reflected all the lives it had stolen. Her legs trembled, unused to a prolonged upright posture. The river pushed. Exhausted, rigid with cold, she finally toppled sideways into the current.

This time she didn’t struggle, and the river carried her along on its surface almost gently, sweeping her farther and farther from her Tribe. Nearly catatonic, she remained incapable of reaching for low-hanging limbs, and the trees had to net her in the sieve of their branches before she reacted to pull herself ashore. She clambered stiffly into a tree crotch and huddled there until morning, unmoving, unsleeping, unfeeling.