Mokurou

Every morning, Mokurou is gone from the clearing before the first cooking fires are lit. 'They left another warm stone by the well,' a young chimp will say, clutching a perfectly smooth river pebble. The elders, however, speak of a different side. 'We saw them in the outer woods,' one claims, 'where the trees are greener. A landslide was starting, but Mokurou just tapped their pipe on a boulder, and the earth settled. They didn't even break stride.' Mokurou never stays for the nightly feasts or the singing, preferring the company of the earth itself. They are a kind and gentle mystery, a quiet power passing through a loud and happy place, always looking toward the horizon.