text: [Themes: sci-fi, post-apocalyptic, action, animal perspective]
  
  Your chest burns. Your heart thumps loud in your chest. Death Mask calls it the war-song; it seems an appropriate name. Your fists are curled more often than not. Your lips curl back into a snarl more than they used to. It drives you. You climb faster than the other males your age. Your long arms are well accustomed to pummeling your rivals into the dirt.
  
  You stand in the middle of camp. Red Eye lounges on his log throne; his metal eye whirls and clicks, showing him the inscrutable wisdom of the ancients. His muzzle is greying. His fingers idly trace the barrel of his laser-thrower; each mark on the wooden stock represents a dead challenger. His harem groom themselves; the most beautiful females of the tribe, adorned with beads and shells, and kept in reserve.
  
  Death Mask stirs a cauldron in the centre of camp. The skeletal metal frame, bolted to his face, is inscrutable as always. His eye sockets are dark and empty, taken so that he may see what lies beyond. Metal Sage stares into the cauldron. His chrome arms, insect like, float through the air like an octopus' tentacles. They hold his inscrutable tools, which he uses to work his mystical cybernetic trade.
  
  > CHALLENGE RED EYE
  Driven by the fervour of youth, you approach Red Eye's log throne. He eyes you, briefly, without saying a word. He then returns his attention to grooming ticks out of his harem's fur. You snarl, and pound the dirt.
  
  He stands. His mechanical eye clicks and whirrs as he assesses your petty rebellion. He strikes without warning, leaping on you and digging his teeth into your cheek. You scream. You pound your fists into his side, eventually landing a lucky shot on his stomach that sends him whirling.
  
  You circle each other. Hot blood trickles down your cheek. A few other chimps of the tribe are gathered around, watching the escalating violence with some interest. Lightning-fast, the older ape drives a fist into your muzzle with surprising strength. You spit a tooth as it sends you reeling. He grabs one of your legs and pulls with two arms, upending you and knocking you on your back. You gasp as the air leaves your lungs. He pounds you with two fists, drumming them into your back over and over until you're sure that your spine will break. As you approach the brink of death, he stops.
  
  You crawl to the underbrush as the world spins. You know you cannot return.
  
  > EXILED
  Three days later, you take your first full breath since the beating. The pain is enormous. You're not sure how far you fled, but you feel as if you've put substantial distance between you and the rest of the tribe. You lean, unsteadily, on a knotted branch that you have fashioned into a walking stick. The forest you have lived your whole life in feels hostile and alien, now.
  
  You continue walking, foraging as you go. Your injuries heal over the coming weeks, and the only evidence of their passing is a slight limp that you expect to take with you for the rest of your life. You fall into a comfortable routine of drinking water from streams, eating fruit and small game given to you by the forest, and moving on every few weeks. Weeks turn to months, months turn to years. You feel yourself becoming more feral, over time; as the weather starts to turn chilly, you realize that you haven't spoken aloud in some time.
  
  Your comfortable routine is interrupted one day, quite abruptly, by the arrival of the Laserbear . You hear it long before you see it; the beast knocks down trees as it goes, and its territorial bellows send birds scattering for miles. The whine of its main gun cycling, and the devastation it unleashes when fired, shatters the fragile peace of the forest.
  
  You leave your tent and feel the sun on your fur. Using a spear as a walking stick, you set out into the underbrush, perturbed by the ungodly racket that has suddenly destroyed your peace. The first evidence of the beast's arrival are the ruined trees, effortlessly upended and flung in all directions. The scorched earth is still smouldering from the beast's cannon. As you follow the path of destruction, you catch your first glimpse of the beast. A megacarnivore that cannot exist in nature, and yet stands before you. It's easily the size of two large horses put together. It's fur is grey and matted, covered in old bullet and laser wounds. Its gun is mounted on its back, and seems like it ought to be mounted on a tank. Its teeth are like knives, its claws are like swords.
  
  You lean on your spear and watch its passing, and wonder what this means for your solitary life in the forest. You do not have to wonder for long, however, as a quick series of hoots interrupts your reverie.
  
  You turn, and find yourself face-to-face with a gargantuan silverback gorilla. Muscles ripple from underneath his wizened fur, and one of his eyes seems to have recently been scratched out. He carries a grenade launcher on a sling, along with a sword of impressive heft.
  
  "Hail, traveler!" he says.
  
  You nod. It's been so long since you've last spoken that the act feels strange.
  
  "I have no name, friend, for I have given it up until my quarry is dead. I've been tracking it across the continent, ever since the Sky Father first told me of it in a dream."
  
  You nod. "Sounds like quite a problem."
  
  He laughs. It's almost a bellow. "Friend, you don't know the half of it."
  
  > HUNT THE LASERBEAR
  "This thing is destroying the forest that I live in. We stand a better chance of killing it, together."
  
  "You're brave, small one. Brave and small," he says good naturedly. He unslings the grenade launcher and pops the drum magazine out as he inspects how many it has left. He casts his eyes up to your weapon. "That spear won't do much against our quarry," the gorilla sticks a massive hand out, expectantly gesturing. You hand him the spear with some reluctance. You watch in fascination as he produces what looks like a small knife, along with a length of wire, and affixes the grenade to the tip of your spear.
  
  "We should ambush it," you say. You eye your new grenade-spear with some suspicion.
  
  He nods. "You think like a great hunter, little one. Your kind are good at climbing, no?"
  
  You nod.
  
  "Here is the plan, then..."
  
  The Laserbear comes screaming out of the woods. Its jaws snap in insane frustration as it charges its main gun. It's in hot pursuit of the nameless silverback, who thunders forward on all fours. He dives into the underbrush as the beast's cannon superheats a half dozen trees, causing them to explode into sharp wooden fragments.
  
  You watch from a branch, spear in hand. You can see the leaves that you carefully laid out just moments before. The powerful steps of the Laserbear take it closer to the trap with each passing second. You watch as it puts a monstrous paw through the leaves, crushing the small stick that holds the trapping mechanism in place. An instant later, a sharpened log, affixed with animal guts, swings from a tree, ramming the monstrous creature in the guts. Black blood spurts out as it bellows in agony.
  
  The gorilla bursts out of the underbrush, grenade launcher in hand, and fires at the beast. Five rapid-fire explosions send the beast reeling. He tosses his grenade launcher in the dirt, and draws his massive blade. It's six feet long, easily, and you doubt you could even lift it. He bellows a challenge as the beast surges forward, leaving half its guts behind on the spike.
  
  It's your time, now. You leap from branch to branch, landing softly behind the bear. It trails intestines and stumbles from blood loss. As fast as your limbs can carry you, you dart forward. It swipes at the gorilla, who parries with his sword, slicing the underside of its paw open. It's charging it's cannon, now; this fight will end in seconds if you don't intervene right now.
  
  You shove your spear into its wound. You feel the blade sink into something important. A second later, the grenade detonates, pulping its insides. It dies instantly. The beasts liquidfied organs seep out of the log-wound; the grenade was not strong enough to puncture its armoured hide.
  
  The gorilla laughs as he sees the results of your handiwork. His sword has been neatly cut in half, and he tosses the hilt into the underbrush.
  
  "I can finally go home," he says matter-of-factly. "As soon as I behead the beast."
  
  You nod, and turn to leave. He seizes you, suddenly, with great intensity. You hoot in confusion.
  
  "You're forgetting the hide, small one!"
  
  Skinning the beast takes hours. When it's done, you bid farewell to the gorilla, and wander off into the forest. Tanning it takes weeks. When you're done, you have a surprisingly light armoured cloak. You feel a surprising sense of invincibility as you leave the forest, trekking off into the unknown.