Vale of Stinking Fur

The jungle is a symphony. Underbrush squelches beneath your feet. Vines writhe and twist on the trees beside you, or are they snakes? Birds sing their absent songs up above, crooning with human tongues not spoken in an age.  There is a howl in the dark. You are all alone out here. An interloper trespassing in territory not meant for homo sapiens. The howls grow louder. There is the banging of stic…