Primeval

One The animal's lonely voice haunted the mountainside. The melancholy sound rolled across the canopy of wet leaves and dripped down the trailing vines, all substance lost long before it reached the brothers' ears. It did not matter. The rainforest spoke with the tongues of Peruvian devils, a thousand sounds competing for attention, and beneath them a thousand more just as eager to be heard. The place was alive with the constant chittering of insects; the deep-throated rumbles of the yellow-backed toads; the raucous caws of the colourful birds as they preened and strutted on the high branches; the scuttle of tuco-tuco, sloths and opossum through the thick vegetation; the slithering of thelachesis mutathrough the thick grasses; the soft sussurous of the leaves and the silken rush of the rain falling down between them. Even at dusk, everything was vivid and alive. But night was coming on fast beneath the thick, leafy canopy. It was hot. Unbearably so. The cotton clung to Cam's flesh. He plucked at it with sticky fingers. There was nothing comfortable about the cloying humidity. He ran his fingers through his hair. They tangled in a greasy knot that he couldn't tease through. "I'm telling you, Jaime, it was like shards of ice spinning lazily in the air." Cam shook his head, knowing the words couldn't come close to describing what he had seen. "Right," his younger brother said, a wry grin playing over his lips. "Clouds of ice in the middle of the rainforest, and you still say you've not been on the whacky baccy?" "Give it a rest, Jaime. I'm serious. It was weird." "You're tellingme." Despite his words, Cam could tell Jaime was intrigued. "Did you try and touch one? I mean, what was it like?" It was the obvious thing to ask. It was precisely whathewould have asked, if their roles had been reversed. Even so, he didn't have an answer. Cam peered across the fire at his brother. How could he admit that the strange phenomenon had actually scared him shitless? He played the big tough guy, but the thought of reaching out and actuallytouchingthat eerie light sent a chill running the length of his spine. "No," he admitted, a part of him hoping that would bring an end to Jaime's questions. He picked up a stick and stirred the fire. The flames had almost guttered out, and they sprang back to life, throwing weird shadows across the small enclave within the trees. It quickly burned low again, its fuel reduced to charcoal. The shadows shrank, becoming hunched and cadaverous as they ghosted across the encroaching foliage. Beyond them lurked thicker clusters of darkness; the stones of the ancient Incan temple they'd discovered. It was a loose term,discovered; it wasn't as though they were the first humans to set foot in the place, but with the isolation and lack of anything approaching a beaten track it still felt that way. With dusk drawing in they'd decided to hold off on exploring the ruin until morning. Without the luxury of electric lights, the risk of injury outweighed their curiosity. So they had bivouacked down for the night, with the promise of adventure waiting for them in the morning. In the fading light, they had gone to search for enough dry wood to start a fire more as a deterrent to the insects than as a source of heat. That was when Cam had seen the peculiar light. He picked up a piece of charcoal, which broke and smeared across his fingertips. It was potent stuff, the essence of life and death in one crumbling stick. As he stared at it, it appeared so mundane, and yet everything around him, even his brother, could be reduced down to this simple dust oSavile, Steven is the author of 'Primeval' with ISBN 9781845766924 and ISBN 184576692X.