text: [Themes: family friendly, historical]
  
  Your uncle and aunt take your mute disbelief as shame-facedness, and soon forgive your tardiness. They then give you a tour of the house, which is made up of your uncle's study, three bedrooms, a living room with a piano, and a dining room.
  
  "Right, and this is where you'll be sleeping." Your uncle shows you a room, which is just as plain as the others. "Any questions?"
  
  "Yes, a few... You mentioned in your letters that you were good friends with the man who discovered the ape limb- do you know if he's still in India?"
  
  "Oh yes, Thomas Milton, reliable chap, though I'm afraid to say he went back to England not a week ago. Got a nasty bite from a python, apparently some pillock he was with decided to rile it. No, you won't get any information that way; however Milton did send us a copy of his notes before, in case some accident of that nature occurred. I believe I left them in the room you're staying in."
  
  "Thank you Uncle, although it's unlucky for Milton. Oh, and would it be all right if I brought in one or two plants, just into my room of course, to inspect them more closely?"
  
  A vein begins to throb on your uncle's temple. "Good Lord, boy! Plants in the house! Certainly not- never trust those strange, Indian plants myself. Goodnight."
  
  "...Uh, goodnight."
  
  The next day, you wake up early, to the sound of somebody muttering. Sticking your head out of the door, you see an extremely odd sight. Aunt Agnes, clad in gardening overalls and a gas mask, is kneeling on the floor and repeatedly spraying something on the floor. You squint your eyes, and see it's a poor little beetle, drowning in pesticide. When it's dead, Agnes lets out a crow of triumph, picks it up with tweezers and carries it outside. You retreat, praying she didn't see you.
  
  A few hours pass until you decide it's safe to venture out of your room. During that time, you find the notes Milton left and flick through them curiously; there's a section on snakes, and several interesting plants are described in detail, for example the Piper anduncum, also known as the Cordoncillo, an antiseptic green shrub with large leaves that can even stop bleeding! And then you come to the page on the Gigantopithecus. A diagram of the bones, together and seperately, shows that, if the whole body was found, it would stand up to roughly ten feet tall. Milton has scribbled down some calculations, and at the bottom you can just make out a few words: Estimated weight, 305 kgs. You whistle in amazement- it would take four fully grown men to match this ape's weight! And you imagine most trees wouldn't be able to support its weight.
  
  Reluctantly, you put the notes away and find your uncle and aunt merrily eating breakfast, your aunt now in a respectable dress and cardigan. You take a seat and select a scone, all the while exchanging pleasantries. Then Robert asks what your plans for the day are.
  
  "I know you were planning to explore the jungle," (both your aunt and your uncle wrinkle their noses), "However there are many other interesting activities you should consider beforehand. There's a town just a few minutes down the river, which I'm told is delightful. Otherwise, the Collins' palm plantation is a fascinating project, and I have prepared, ahem, a little presentation should it intrigue you."
  
  You think carefully. On one hand, it would be foolish to just wander into the forest without any prior knowledge, and somebody in town is bound to know something- they might even agree to be your guide. However, your uncle is the reason you know about the Gigantopithecus in the first place, and he agreed to have you- maybe it's your duty, as your father would put it, to listen to this presentation first. And what about your parent's letter? That's likely to arrive soon, maybe even today- and if Robert and Agnes found your "tardiness" unacceptable, when they find out you've been disinherited, they'll pack you back to England. You'll need to either win them over, or find the ape skeleton quickly.
  
  > explore the jungle
  You need to find the Gigantopithecus before your disinheritance is revealed, so time-consuming activities such as listening to lectures, or wandering a town vainly hoping for some kind of miracle, aren't options.
  
  "Thank you very much for the advice, Uncle Robert, and although your presentation does sound thrilling, I think I'll concentrate on finding this skeleton first." Your uncle's face drops, but he quickly recovers.
  
  "Oh well, some other time then. Right, so you're exploring the jungle. Risky business that, but it'll be much easier to bring something to munch on rather than coming back at midday. You there," he says, snapping suddenly at a servant. "Prepare some sandwiches, fast."
  
  Twenty minutes later, you find yourself walking out of the large front gates, clad in walking clothes, and weighed down by several sandwiches prepared by the servant (who returned your thanks with a small grin this time), in addition to Milton's notes. In front of you is the river that you travelled up, and on either side, the jungle. Wandering along the riverbank for almost an hour, you eventually find a path that leads into the trees, and venture in.
  
  You walk in silence for five minutes, soaking it all in. The leafy canopy protects you from the glare of the sun, creating a cool, peaceful atmosphere. And pleasant background music is provided by the lilting melodies of the birds. Interestingly, it's not as humid or wet as you expected- in fact, you would describe this jungle more like an exotic forest than anything else. From time to time, you come across an intruiging plant, for example a tree with purple berries that Milton describes as a Jamun tree; soon, a couple more pages in your notebook are filled. A few hours pass this way until your legs begin to tire, and the sandwiches start to look very appealing, so you sit down against a tree trunk and work your way through them. Afterwards, since you're sitting very still, the residents of the jungle become bolder. A giant squirrel darts up a tree, and you're absolutely convinced you spotted a python, luckily far in the distance.
  
  Then, behind you, a twig snaps. You hardly dare to look, imagining all the deadly creatures it could be, but eventually peer round the tree. It's a man, bare limbs gleaming with sweat as they carry a kind of woven basket, and wearing nothing but a loincloth around his waist! You gasp in surprise, and this is not lost on the stranger. Whipping his head around, he glares suspiciously in your general area; however you duck behind the tree before he can spot you.
  
  What should you do? He could be a savage native, taught to mistrust and dislike any soft, manipulative idiot who steals from the earth, especially a foreign one. On the other hand, he could be perfectly agreeable, and willing to divulge any information on the whereabouts of the Gigantopithecus.
  
  > remain hidden
  Who are you kidding? Of course this stranger isn't going to simply shake your hand and invite you to round for dinner... You remain pressed against the tree, ears straining for any sound. There is a long silence, and then a rueful voice saying,
  
  "Good grief, I'm starting to hear things. What next, deafness?" It is unmistakably coming from the mouth of an Englishman! All fear cast aside, you look round again, and see the receding figure of the man. Under the dappled sunlight, it was hard to determine his skin colour, and you simply assumed he was Indian, but now you look closely and see he's white: a final confirmation of his nationality. Damn! It was the perfect opportunity- you would have both been able to speak the same language, and he certainly seemed at home in the jungle. You stand up, squinting. His figure is still visible, you can still make it.
  
  > run after him
  Racing to pack your bag, you stand up, slinging it over your shoulder. Then you run. Branches bar the way, but you crash through them. You sprint as hard as you can, determined not to lose this man. You're vaguely aware of the chaos you're causing, of all the plants you're trampling and the animals you've disrupted. But, at the present time, you couldn't care less. Reaching the place where you last saw him, you look round wildly, too out of breath to call out. The path continues winding through the jungle, but he may have turned off at some point. Then, you think you see a flash of movement on your right, which leads even deeper into the jungle. Well, it's better than nothing. Setting off at a quick pace this time, you run on for a few minutes, instinctively turning left or right in a state of desperate recklessness.
  
  After a while, on finding no other clues as to where to go, you allow yourself a few minutes rest, during which you calm down and amuse yourself trying to imitate the call of a nearby bird. It soon swoops away to perch on a different branch, or perhaps hunt for food, and it's only then that you realise you're lost. The Englishman has long gone, and you have no idea how to get back to the path. Besides, there must be hundreds of them, and you'd never know if you'd found the right one. The absurdity of your situation strikes you, and you laugh out loud.
  
  But maybe this isn't as bad as it seems. You are in the jungle, where you can look for the Gigantopithecus skeleton, and at the same time avoid a confrontation on the arrival of your parents' letter. All you need to do is find food, shelter and water. Simple.
  
  You spend the rest of the day building a shelter. This is a challenging task, seeing as you've never made one before. After several failed attempts, you eventually build something stable: a branch propped up against a tree with smaller branches propped up against that. The inevitable gaps are filled up with leaves and moss. By now it is almost dark, and you don't dare to stray too far, so the remainder of the sandwiches serve as your dinner.
  
  The following morning, you drag yourself out of the tent, sopping wet- you must have missed a few, or more likely several gaps in the branches last night. Thankfully, the bag containing your notebooks, and Milton's observations, are mostly dry, which is a relief because they turn out to be very useful for finding edible food. You spend an hour wandering the jungle (making sure you can always find your way back to the shelter), consulting Milton's notes whenever you come across a plant bearing fruit. When you return, you have enough food, consisting of berries, roots, and two mangos, to last you the whole day. After eating, your new worry is water. You didn't see a stream on the hunt for food, and even if you did, you have no idea how dirty it would be. Although considering how dry your throat is, that wouldn't stop you. So, for the remainder of the day, you search carefully, occasionally marking a tree so you know where you've already been. And, finally, when the sun is low in the sky and your legs have no strength left, you discover a spring, half hidden by rocks and bushes. Gulping down the freezing water, you then fill up a small bottle the servant gave you.
  
  Over the following weeks, each day takes a similar pattern. The morning is spent foraging, collecting water, and making amendments to your shelter, which improves every day. Sadly, the same can not be said for your health: you simply can't afford to trust any plant that Milton hasn't verified, and the supply of those he has is exhaustive. Each day, you lose more weight, and your face becomes lined and gaunt.
  
  In the afternoon, you search high and low for the Gigantopithecus. So far, no miraculous discovery or enlightenment has occurred. And, missing the company of other human beings, you start talking to yourself as you search, just to pass the time. Soon this rambling seeps into other parts of your day, until you find it hard to stop talking to yourself. One day, whilst collecting water from the river, you catch sight of your reflection, and nearly fall in; a dishevelled man with tattered clothes stares wildly back at you, muttering constantly under his breath. You don't recognise this madman...
  
  Hurrying back to the shelter, you pull out your battered notebook, which you haven't taken out in weeks, and leaf through it. You stop at the page you'd reserved for the glorious discovery of the Gigantopithecus. The blank page glares up at you, mocking your failure.
  
  Where did you go wrong?