RAYUKEN

Rayuken sat on the fig tree and listened.
Behind him were the golden sounds of sunset:
The chirruping of crickets and cicadas from the
jungle, the long calls of the mackaws as they
sailed through the balmy evening air winging
their way home. The warm tingling winds, rustling
and whispering through the leaves. Deep in the bamboo
forest, Rayuken knew that Heram was waiting for him.
The problem was what to bring...
Rayuken looked down at his soft hairy belly and was
surprised to see a juicy tick that had escaped his notice
and was now quite fat with blood. With an expert twist
of his hard little fingers he pulled the tick fat and wriggling
out of the safe little haven it had created in his navel.

“Rayuken! Its me Arnold!” squeaked a
little voice. But Rayuken squashed the
tiny beastie between the nails of his forefinger
and thumb – watching with a strange satisfaction
his warm purple blood spill out onto his nails. He did feel a little
guilty though as he smeared the rest of Arnold down
the rough bark of the fig tree. It was a bit rude to just
brush him off like that.