The Jungle, Part Two: Muaka and Stone Rat

Here we have part two of the Jungle. If you remember, part one ended with a Le-Matoran archeologist named Quilani being kidnapped by a being called Umarak. Umarak revealed that he wished to hunt a group of Matoran that he had captured, and that he would give them all a twenty-minute head start. Quilani went off with a talkative Po-Matoran, and now we’re all caught up.

~~

“See! I told you!”

The Po-Matoran brushed past a clump of ferns and set Quilani down. In front of him was a small stream, babbling as it flowed through the undergrowth. The Le-Matoran immediately knelt down and pressed his mask against it. He took a long, refreshing sip. The water was warm and dirty, but he didn’t care. His canteen had been crushed along with everything else in his backpack, and Umarak hadn’t offered him any water.

The Po-Matoran, too, got down and started drinking. After a few sips, he sat up. “Alright. So, now where do we go?

Quilani waited, still drinking. Then he exhaled and sat up as well. “I don’t know. First things first, we need weapons.”

The Po-Matoran thought for a moment, then picked up a fist-sized rock from the streambed. “Will this work?”

“Only once, and I don’t think it’ll hurt those dogs. We need actual weapons.”

“Alright.” He tossed the rock back, making a sploosh. “Hey, what’s your name? I never got it.”

Quilani raised an eyebrow. “Is that really important?”

“If we’re gonna die together, I think we should probably know each other’s names.”

“One: We aren’t going to die. Two: If this is going to work, we can’t get chummy. Three: If you keep talking, they’re going to hear us.”

The Po-Matoran hung his head. “Alright. Alright. Sorry.”

Quilani hesitated a moment, then sighed. “You can call me Green.”

Almost instantly the Po-Matoran brightened up. “Codenames? I like that! I’ll be Chatterbox.”

Quilani smirked. “That’s fitting.”

“My friends thought so.”

The Le-Matoran stood up. “Alright. Let’s move. We can’t stay in one place too long.”

“Want me to carry you again?”

“No. Save your energy for when you need it. If you just find me a good stick I’ll be fine.”

“On it!” Chatterbox dashed away, leaving Quilani in solitude. He enjoyed the sounds of running water and chirping birds, the smell of the damp soil and vibrant flowers, for a whole minute before the Po-Matoran came bounding back. In his hands was a thick branch nearly as tall as him. “Here you go!”

Quilani held out his hand and took the stick. It was heavy and dense. “It’s good.”

Chatterbox beamed.

“Now let’s get moving. We’ll follow the stream.”

Aided by the new walking stick, Quilani trudged through the jungle, Chatterbox on his heels. The Le-Matoran already felt a little bit better - his shoulder wasn’t aching, and he could put a little more pressure on his ankle now. He still dreaded to think what would happen if he had to run.

“How far do you think we’ll have to go?” asked the Po-Matoran.

“What did I say about talking?”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

Not a minute later, Chatterbox piped up again. “So why are we following the stream, anyway?”

Quilani rolled his eyes. “Because it’s bound to lead us somewhere. It should feed into a river or lake, which we can then follow to civilization.”

“Ohhhh! Clever! I knew it was a good idea to go with you.”

Yep. Wish I could say the same.

AAAAAAWOOOOOOOO!

Quilani froze in his tracks.

Chatterbox glanced around. “What was that?”

“I think that means our twenty minutes is up. We have to hurry.”

“I can still carry you.”

“Not unless it’s absolutely necessary. But now it is imperative that you shut up. Those things probably can already hear us stomping through the jungle, we don’t need them to hear our voices too.”

“Right. Quiet. I can do that.” Chatterbox smiled.

The two continued on, and Quilani thanked Mata Nui that Chatterbox wasn’t yapping his head off. Maybe the gravity of their situation finally set in…

Quilani stopped dead in his tracks and held up a fist. Something was rustling to their left. Chatterbox cocked his head, looking around to see what made his companion stop. The Le-Matoran’s grip on his stick tightened.

Stop moving, he commanded Chatterbox internally. Please just stay completely still.

A flurry of orange and a loud squawk caused Quilani to whirl around, holding his stick at the ready. He just caught a glimpse of two Gukko Birds flying off.

Chatterbox let out a sigh of relief. “Phew. I thought that was one of those Rahi-”

“Shh!” Quilani held a finger to his mouth. Something had to have startled those birds. He wasn’t sure what, but it couldn’t have been good. Best case scenario, an Ash Bear. Worst case…

“Let’s go.”

“Huh?”

“GO!”

Quilani limped away as fast as he could. Chatterbox quickly caught on and scrambled after him. He grabbed Quilani by the waist and slung him over his back as he ran. The Le-Matoran watched as a clump of foliage shuddered and a thin, wiry Rahi leapt out from it. Its eyes were frenzied, its fur was bristling, and it was hurtling towards them. It let loose a cacophony of barks and growls.

“FASTER!” Quilani shouted.

Chatterbox leaned forward and picked up speed.

The dog was still gaining on them. Quilani could see each droplet of saliva that flew from its mouth. With a snarl, it reached out to swipe at them. The Le-Matoran barely parried the blow with his stick.

Chatterbox turned abruptly to the right, forcing the dog to try and change direction. It swung its hindquarters around, but couldn’t slow its momentum and struck a tree. That only stopped it for a brief second before it was on them again.

“Where are you going?”

“I saw tree stumps! Maybe that’s a sign!”

“Huh?” As the scenery flew by, Quilani indeed noticed some stumps on the ground.

“Maybe there’s a woodsman nearby!”

That’d add up, Quilani thought, just as he swiped his stick at the dog.

“Focus on running, please!”

Chatterbox’s labored pants mixed with the dog’s growls and yaps. The Po-Matoran was starting to slow down. The only thing keeping them from being caught was Quilani’s defense, which he knew he couldn’t keep up forever.

“HOLD ON, GREEN!” shouted Chatterbox. Quilani was about to ask why when the Po-Matoran threw him forward. He passed through a doorway and landed onto a hard wood floor.

“SHUT THE DOOR!” the Po-Matoran screamed as he charged forward.

Quilani scrambled to his feet and ran over to the door. Just as the Po-Matoran passed through, he slammed it shut. The Rahi careened into it with a loud thud, shaking dust loose from the hinges, but the door held. It threw itself against the door two more times before growling and starting to scratch at it.

“What do we do now?” asked Chatterbox, a frantic tinge to his voice.

Quilani looked around. They were in some kind of shack, barely big enough for the both of them. The only light came in from a window above the door. Behind him was a shelf and a small workbench. Resting on the bench, though, was something that glinted in the sunlight. Quilani reached up and clasped his fingers around a cold, steel bar. Grunting in surprise at the weight, he pulled it down.

“Woah,” Chatterbox breathed.

It was a woodsman’s axe, longer than Quilani was tall and made entirely of steel. Rust crept in on the edges, but it was mostly still shiny. The two Matoran gazed at it in awe.

“Do you…” the Po-Matoran began, turning his head to the door.

Quilani looked from the axe to the door, then back to the axe. “Step back.”

Chatterbox obliged, and Quilani reared back. Mustering all the effort he could, he swung the axe up. Its momentum carried it in an arc and the blade slammed into the ground, easily cleaving through it.

The Le-Matoran nodded in approval and yanked it out. “Yeah. I think it’ll work.”

The scratching stopped. There were footsteps, growing quieter and quieter.

“Boost me.” Quilani jerked his head to the window.

Chatterbox hurried to the door and held his hands together, palms up. Quilani placed his right foot on them, and Chatterbox raised him up, grunting with the effort. The Le-Matoran was just barely able to peer through the window and caught a glimpse of the dog retreating into the jungle.

“Alright,” Quilani said, hopping down. “I have a plan.”

“Let’s hear it!”

“It’s better if I show you. Open the door.”

Chatterbox cocked his head. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Just do it.”

“If you say so…”

Chatterbox reached up and twisted the doorknob. The door swung open with a creak. Quilani stepped out into the jungle, axe dragging behind him. After a few steps, he stopped.

“Rahi!”

“What are you doing?” hissed Chatterbox.

“I told you I have a plan. RAHI! Here I am! I give up! Take me!”

He heard Chatterbox shut the door behind him. Probably for the best, in case this went wrong. Which it probably will.

Quilani heard a bark. Not a second later, the dog leapt out of the bushes only a couple dozen meters in front of him. The Le-Matoran’s eyes narrowed and his muscles tensed. Wait…

The Rahi gnashed its teeth as it got closer, spraying spit. The Le-Matoran’s heart pounded in his chest.

Wait…

He counted each of its footfalls.

Wait…

The dog was practically on him now. It sprang forward and opened its jaws wide.

NOW!

Quilani swung the axe with as much force as he could muster. The blade struck its cheek, spraying blood and knocking the Rahi off-course. It yelped and went sprawling, hitting the ground and skidding to a halt.

The Le-Matoran panted, shoulders heaving with each breath. The Rahi’s breath, on the other hand, was shallow and raspy. Blood poured from the gash in its head.

“WOAH!” shouted Chatterbox as he swung the door open. “Green! That was awesome!”

“I guess.” Quilani picked up the axe with both hands and approached the dog. Its green eyes stared into his. They were one vibrant and full of aggression, but now reflected only pain. A feeble whimper escaped its jaws.

Bracing himself again, Quilani swung the blood-stained axe in an arc over his head. The blade cleaved through the Rahi’s neck like butter. Its body went limp even as the axe embedded itself into the ground.

“Kinda dark,” Chatterbox commented.

“Couldn’t risk it getting back up,” replied Quilani as he tugged the axe free.

The two Matoran stood in silence for a few moments. A dozen thoughts raced through Quilani’s head, but only one feeling flowed through his veins: confidence. He did it. He won. Well, not yet. But he would. After all, he got this far.

“So… where to now?”

Quilani rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. But I’m thinking maybe it’s time we turned the tables on our hunters.”

“I, uh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I mean… that was awesome, don’t get me wrong, but we were an inch away from death multiple times. I don’t think we should go seeking that out. And I don’t know if I could do another sprint like that, and you’re all busted up, so it doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

The Le-Matoran pursed his lips. Chatterbox was right. Trying to go on the offensive was a dumb idea. Even if they managed to slay the other dog (which, Quilani remembered, was bigger and more muscular), they stood no chance against Umarak himself.

“Alright. You’re right. We’ll keep following the stream.”


The sun was at its peak. The two Matoran had been walking for hours. The stream had gotten slightly faster and deeper, but other than that, there was no change to their environment. Quilani felt no closer to salvation than he had when he started.

At least Chatterbox found some food, he thought, glancing at his companion.

The Po-Matoran carried a bunch of green fruits in the crook of his arm while munching on another. “Sure you don’t want another?” he mumbled through a mouthful of fruit.

“I’m sure.”

“Suit yourself. These are really good though.”

“So you’ve told me.”

“Mhm. Sweet but tangy. You know, I wonder how those other Matoran are doing.”

Quilani’s eyebrows raised. He hadn’t actually thought about them. For all he knew, they were already free - or dead. The two Bo-Matoran probably had the best advantage out of all of them. “I don’t know.”

“It’d be cool to meet back up with them. Check in. Morou, she seemed pret-ty confident. I hope she’ll make it out.”

“Who’s Morou?” Quilani asked, not that he really cared.

“Bo-Matoran. Tall, wiry, wears a Kakama. She was caught a few days after me. Tried to escape from the cage three times, but she never got far. But I’m thinking she might be able to. She has all these elaborate machi-”

“Wait!” Quilani halted and held up his hand. He tilted his head and listened. There were voices. One feminine, and one all-too-familiar. “Wait here,” he whispered to Chatterbox while passing him the axe. “And hold this.”

“Where are you going?”

“To eavesdrop.”

Without a further word, the Le-Matoran hopped onto the nearest tree and scaled it with ease. He shimmied out onto a long branch and leapt to the next tree over. The voices were getting clearer now. He crossed to another tree, then another. This tree overlooked a small clearing, where two figures stood. One was Umarak, and the other was a female Steltian laborer. Quilani flattened himself against the branch he was on and listened in.

“…boss doesn’t like your hunting,” the Steltian was saying. “It’s interfering with our business.”

“I don’t like to bother myself with petty crime rings,” Umarak replied. “Nor do I treat with underlings. If your boss has a message for me, she can tell me herself.”

The Steltian growled. “You know that ain’t gonna happen. So I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do. You’re going to cut back-”

“A Makuta does not take orders, brute.”

Quilani’s heart skipped a beat. A Makuta? He was in way over his head - all the Matoran were. I shouldn’t be here. I have to go, I have to - no, not while he’s still here. I can’t risk being heard.

“You think I’m telling you this because I want to?” the Steltian retorted. “I don’t want to talk to you any more’n you want to talk to me. But I think we both know what happens when the boss-”

“Your boss,” Umarak cut her off again. “Not mine.”

“Yes, my boss gets upset. Remember last time?”

Umarak chuckled. “Yes, I remember. I remember I let you ransack my camp. Do you really think your Rahi Smugglers could lay a finger on me without my consent? If I wanted to stop you, I wouldn’t even have to lift a finger.”

“You let us raid your camp? Pardon my judgement, mighty Makuta, but that sounds like a load of Kane-Ra ■■■■. Why would you let us do that and get away with it?”

“Precisely for this reason. To make your boss bolder. More confident. It’s quite simple, brute. I’m toying with her. Now she presumes to have power over me - yet I know her threats are hollow. So run along, and tell your mysterious employer that I will not bend to her whims.”

“I don’t think so. Because this time, we have the upper hand. There’s a certain Skakdi that we’re keeping not too far from here. If you don’t acquiesce to our demands, she tells him where you are. If you try to pull anything funny here, she tells him where you are. Basically, if you don’t stay in line, you’re dead.”

Again the Makuta laughed. “I’m sorry, I missed the threat in your little ultimatum. Why would I fear a Skakdi? They’re nothing but dumb, subservient brutes thanks to dear Spiriah. Like you.”

The Steltian crossed her arms. “This one isn’t. But if you want to take your chances, so be it.”

“I will.” In a flash, Umarak drew his machete and decapitated the Steltian in the same motion. Her head went flying, landing a good ten feet from the body. The Makuta sheathed his sword before turning to face Quilani’s tree.

The Le-Matoran’s blood turned to ice as he flattened himself further against the tree branch. Please don’t see me, please don’t see me…

“I don’t need to see you to know you’re there, Quilani.”

Uh oh.

“I admit, you’ve impressed me thus far. You’ve allowed the Po-Matoran to get further than I ever expected, and you’ve even taken out the runt of my pack. Most impressive indeed. I wonder, though, how you expect to fare against me?”

Quilani pushed himself to his feet. His entire body trembled, and as he stared into Umarak’s eyes, he knew he had two options. He focused all his thoughts on turning tail and running back the way he came. Just as Umarak took a step forward, though, Quilani sprang to his left, grabbing hold of a vine and tearing it free. He swung through the air to safety, and he heard the Makuta mutter something that sounded like “clever”.

The Le-Matoran landed on another branch and continued running. He thanked Mata Nui that his ankle was feeling marginally better. Crunching and rustling behind him told him that Umarak was hot on his tail.

A ball of blue and green fire whizzed by Quilani just inches from his mask, almost making him stumble. He chanced a look behind himself and saw Umarak holding a bow coated in the same strange flames. Gulping, Quilani faced forward and kept running. He grabbed another vine and swung to the right just as another fireball passed through the space his head had just occupied.

“You can’t hide from me, Matoran!” Umarak taunted. “And you know you can’t outrun me. So why delay the inevitable?”

“It makes for a better hunt, doesn’t it?” Quilani shouted back.

Suddenly Quilani felt his stomach drop - the vine snapped, and he was plummeting. He smashed through a tree branch, then another, then he finally collided with the dirt. He lay there, face-down and dazed.

There’s that pain again.

Quilani groaned and tried to push himself to his feet, but his arms were too weak. He just collapsed back to the dirt.

“A valiant effort, Le-Matoran.”

He didn’t even notice Umarak standing over him until now.

“You have my respect. No Matoran has been able to evade my direct pursuit for that long. Your Kanohi will be a fine addition to my wall.”

Quilani wheezed as he felt Umarak’s foot press against his torso, its claws digging into the ground next to his shoulders. He heard the shink of Umarak’s blade unsheathing, and he shut his eyes. This was it. The end. Was it even worth it? All just to explore some ancient ruin?

The Le-Matoran’s heart pounded, and he braced for whatever was about to come…

4 Likes

really enjoying this so far, cant wait for the next part

1 Like

And here’s the next part of the story…
Nice job, kept me interested throughout.

1 Like

this made me laugh more than it has any right to do

2 Likes

Thank you both!

2 Likes