15
NATAGNA

WESTERN SUMATRA

While scratching a deep itch on his shoulder blade, one of the females approached. Natagna growled, showing a bit of his teeth. This successfully warned her off. His head hurt too much to be interested in mating.

An intriguing animal outside the enclosure emitted a familiar call, its kiss-squeak cry demanding his attention. He smacked his lips together and gave a loud reply. The animal stretched a bare limb toward him, offering a durian. The stench of the luscious fruit, which smelled like rotten eggs, was filet mignon to an orangutan. Natagna accepted it joyfully.

The other animal’s skin was hairless and cool. Its fingers reached out, gently stroking the pad of Natagna’s cheek. Natagna sniffed, then backed away to a tree, giving a loud call that echoed through the compound. He crossed the enclosed arbor hand-over-hand. The sun sparkled off the razor wire, blinding Natagna to the soldier holding a loaded gun on the wall.

The Old One stepped out from the nearby house, waving his arms and shouting at the small animal that had given Natagna the tasty durian. Natagna watched as the creature ran off and rejoined the others of its kind.

He scratched his chest and ran his fingers through his long, fiery orange hair. He rubbed his head and let out a soulful moan. His head was aching badly.

Natagna disliked the old one who often poked him with sharp sticks that left holes in his skin. Now he saw the snowy-haired man move away from the enclosure and felt relieved. Natagna’s offspring played in the branches of nearby trees. He watched them suspiciously. Unknowingly to him, more of his offspring played jump rope on the playground below. He was not burdened by paternal longings anyway.

He tried to tear down the metal walls of his prison and escape into the rainforest. Freedom was on his mind today, along with pain.

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