Here it is, the finale to The Jungle. I hope it’s everything you all are expecting and more. Let’s get into it!
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Quilani felt Umarak’s foot shi ft as the Makuta reared back. Death was about to come, that much the Matoran knew. But would it hurt? Or would it be quick and painless? And then what would happen to him after?
Umarak sniffed. Then again. He lifted his foot off of Quilani. The Le-Matoran tentatively opened one eye.
“Apologies, Quilani. We’ll have to finish this another time.”
The Matoran stayed still as a statue as he heard Umarak trudge away. The Hunter’s steps were even but hurried. Once his footsteps faded into the distance, Quilani breathed a huge sigh of relief and pushed himself to his feet. His heart was still racing. His head pulsed.
Taking deep, even breaths to calm himself down, Quilani weighed his options. He didn’t know where he was anymore. Chatterbox was probably waiting somewhere for him - if he wasn’t dead already. The only good path I can take is to follow Umarak. Well, it’s not good. But it’s better than wandering aimlessly through the jungle.
Quilani took off after Umarak. The Makuta may have been adept at maneuvering through the undergrowth, but he was still big, and still left trampled ferns and grasses in his wake. All the Le-Matoran had to do was follow the flattened foliage.
As he walked, Quilani heard noises all around him. Grunts and growls, stampeding footsteps, fluttering wings. A swarm of tiny insects passed by above him, followed by a flock of screeching Gukko birds. Quilani assumed they were chasing the bugs, but the birds quickly overtook and passed them. Odd.
More rustling to his left made him turn his head. A Muaka leapt down from a tree branch not ten feet away from him. Quilani instinctively froze, but the great cat was not interested in him. It barely gave him a glance before sprinting away.
Something’s not right here. What am I walking into?
A sudden acrid stench wafted across Quilani’s nose, almost making him physically recoil. It was the smell of ash and smoke, but more… offensive. Almost sulphuric. Come to think of it, it had been getting the warmer the further along he went. Originally he had attributed it to nearing the heart of the jungle, but now he wasn’t so sure.
I should get a better look.
Quilani hopped onto the nearest tree trunk and began climbing. Using branches and vines as handholds and footholds, he eventually reached the canopy. What he saw when he finally poked his head out of the leafy cover made him gasp.
Thick black smoke billowed in huge columns from the forest ahead of him. Flames consumed the treetops, illuminating the haze with orange light. But perhaps most troubling of all was the fact that the fire was spreading fast. Even as Quilani watched, the flames raced across the treetops - and right towards him.
Breath quickening, the Le-Matoran slid down the tree trunk. Already the forest around him was hazy. The heat was oppressive, stifling his breath even more than the smoke. Quilani looked around. The fire was near enough now that he could see its ominous glow.
So much for following Umarak, he thought as he spun around and limped away as fast as he could. He cursed himself for not following the fleeing Rahi when he had the chance.
“BEAST!”
A shout stopped Quilani in his tracks and made him turn around. In the distance, through the smoke and fire, he could make out movement (though just barely). The sound of clashing metal rang out over the dull roar of the flames. The grunts of two different entities could just barely be heard - one was Umarak, but the other Quilani didn’t recognize. The sounds were deeper, more guttural, almost animalistic.
Cursing himself again, Quilani started limping towards the commotion. The air was thickening and growing darker. Waves of heat and smoke washed over the little Matoran. Flames crept along the ground and across the trees around him, blackening whatever they touched. Still Quilani marched on. He had to know what was happening. And either way - even if he kept running - he knew the fire would consume him. At least this way he wouldn’t have to die with questions on his mind.
“SAVAGE!” Umarak shouted again. Another clang reverberated through the burning forest.
Quilani walked across the burning ground, each step making him wince. His armor felt like it was only one degree away from melting right off him. But he was almost there.
“ANIMAL!”
Now the two forms were much more distinct. One was a creature like a stone ape, only far bigger and more muscular. In its meaty hands were two weapons Quilani swore Umarak had held before: a battleaxe and a jagged machete. The other entity he only barely recognized from stories. Its armor was green and gray and it held a silver sword. At its hip was some kind of gun. Its eyes were blazing and its teeth were bared.
I’ve never seen a Skakdi before.
The ape swung its axe. The Skakdi hopped backwards just in time. It grabbed the gun off its hip and fired. A spray of metal shards cut into the ape’s stomach, only making him growl.
“YOU WILL NOT KILL ME, BEAST!”
Quilani ducked behind a clump of smoldering grass. Down here the air was still breathable (barely) and he would be able to watch the fight unfold.
The Skakdi aimed his gun up and fired again. The ape stumbled back as the blast tore through its chest. Taking advantage of the creature’s weakness, the Skakdi charged forward and slammed its shoulder into it, knocking the ape into a tree. Its form shimmered, and its body began to shrink and twist. Antlers sprouted from a head that now wore a black Kanohi, claws grew from its feet as its legs snapped into new positions, and its muscular arms diminished to wiry green limbs.
Umarak coughed. Blood leaked from gashes in his chest, right arm, and stomach. His chest rose and fell in big heaves. But in his eyes still burned a fire brighter and hotter than the one that surrounded him. His hand shot out, fingers outstretched, and the Skakdi froze in place.
“I… AM A MAKUTA!” bellowed Umarak. His fingers constricted, and Quilani watched as the Skakdi’s armor began to dent and crumble in on itself. “YOU WILL NOT KILL ME! YOU CANNOT KILL ME!”
Umarak took a step forward and continued to slowly close his fist. The Skakdi grunted in pain.
Without even thinking about what he was doing, Quilani’s own fingers closed around a thick, rough rock by his knee. It was a no-brainer, right? He had to help this Skakdi. The Le-Matoran stood up and narrowed his eyes. He wound up for a throw… then let the rock fly. It shot through the air, striking Umarak’s cheek and dislodging his mask. The Makuta lost concentration, stunned in shock, and that was all the Skakdi needed.
Released from Umarak’s magnetic grasp, it lunged forward and drove its sword through his chest. The Makuta staggered back, gazing at the blade embedded in him with wide eyes. The Skakdi just pushed the blade deeper, twisting it as he did so.
Umarak coughed. He grasped the Skakdi’s shoulder. “All this?” he gasped. “All this?”
The Skakdi said nothing.
“I can tell you… where Spiriah is… if you let me live.”
The Skakdi cocked his head, as if to say “go on.”
A feeble laugh escaped the Makuta’s lips before being cut short by another wet cough. He leaned in close to the Skakdi’s ear and whispered something - Quilani couldn’t hear.
The Skakdi scoffed and yanked the sword out. Umarak gasped again and stumbled forward. He fell to his knees as the Skakdi began to stomp away.
A smile crossed the great hunter’s face. “So… this is how prey feels.”
Not a second later, Umarak’s entire head vaporized with a bang. It just disappeared in a puff of red mist. As the body slumped over, Quilani saw the Skakdi with its gun pointed at his body, barrel smoking.
Thank you, Quilani thought, though he dared not actually say it.
With a grunt of satisfaction, the green Skakdi trudged off through the burning foliage.
Once he could no longer hear its footsteps, Quilani stood up and was hit with a sudden wave of wooziness. He staggered backward and coughed as smoke entered his lungs. His entire body shuddered as he coughed again, again, again, and he slumped back down. He just now realized his eyes stung. So did his throat. And his nose.
So, this is how it ends, the Le-Matoran realized as he felt his consciousness slipping away. I guess it’s not that bad…
Quilani closed his eyes and drifted off. In his final moments, the heat of the fire was little more than pleasant warmth.
Quilani coughed. Where was he? Was he dead? He tried to open an eye, but was immediately assaulted by the light. He could still hear the crackling fire of the forest, still smell the acrid smoke, still feel its heat. But it was all… fainter.
He opened his eyes and sat up. The jungle was ahead of him, maybe a hundred yards away, but it was still green and lush. The smoke in the sky was distant. The only light beneath the treetops was sunlight dappling the ground, not the angry orange glow of fire.
Quilani looked around. He was in a rocky field dotted by grasses and trees. Sitting next to him was the axe he had found before, shiny and clean of blood. What in Karzahni happened?
A tan rock to his left caught his eye. It was covered in scratches - no, no that was writing. Bad writing, but writing. Quilani rubbed smoke out of his eyes and squinted. It read:
Hey Green. I know you’ll probably be confused about things. When you went after Umarak, this big green Skakdi came up to me. He didn’t talk much. At all, actually. Anyways, he started a fire, and then Umarak came running over. There was this big awesome battle between him and Umarak, and then he killed him! I was about to follow him out but then I saw you. So I convinced him to drag you to safety. I hope our paths cross again someday.
Your friend, Chatterbox.
P.S. I cleaned your axe for you. I figured you should have it.
Quilani couldn’t help but smile. He grabbed the handle of the axe and stood up.
Thank you, Chatterbox. Now… how in the world am I gonna get back home?
