Monkey by Jeff Stone

branch tight, glad that he had abandoned his itchy “spirit” costume in order to move more freely through the trees.
    Almost immediately, Malao heard soft footfalls. He glanced down and saw a single soldier with a spear patrolling the camp perimeter. The soldier was walking slowly in Malao's direction.
    Malao looked over at the campfire and was surprised to see Ying lying near it, fast asleep on the ground. No one else was around. Ying's men apparently had built the large campfire away from the main sleeping area. Malao had heard that travelers often did this in case animals were attracted to the lingering smells of cooking over the campfire.
    Ying must have fallen asleep there and his men were afraid to move him,
Malao thought.
He seems to be out cold. This is going to be easy.
    Malao let go of the tree branch with one arm and slowly removed the decorated stick from the folds of his robe. As he raised it up, rustling leaves caught his attention. He turned to see Fu burst out of the underbrush.
    Malao looked back down at the soldier. The soldier assumed a defensive posture with his spear held out before him. Malao decided to give Fu a little assistance. He cleared his throat, making the soldier glance up.
    At that same instant, Fu slammed his left shoulder into the soldier's chest. Malao watched Fu clamp his right hand over the soldier's mouth and kick the soldier's legs out from under him. It wasn't the most graceful technique Malao had ever seen, but it was effective. The soldier went down in a heap and Fu landed on top of him. Fu grabbed the man's spear with his free hand, wrenched it from the soldier's grasp, and tossed it aside.
    As soon as Malao saw Fu clamp a tiger-claw fist around the soldier's throat, he leaped down from the tree and headed for Ying. Malao gripped his stick tight. He knew that Ying hated to be woken and would lash out violently at anyone who dared disturb him.
    When he was two paces from Ying, Malao stopped. Ying's chest rose and fell steadily and his eyeballs raced around beneath closed eyelids. Malao wondered if Ying was dreaming about all the horrible things he had done at Cangzhen.
    Malao shivered. He forced himself to take several deep breaths, then took another step toward Ying and lowered himself into a solid Horse Stance. Prepared to run—or fight, if necessary—Malao lifted one leg and stuck his bare foot beneath Ying's nose. He wiggled his toes. Ying didn't flinch.
    Malao grinned. He leaned forward and reached into Ying's robe. Inside, he found the scrolls. Malao removed them and placed them in the folds of his own robe.
    Someone cleared his throat and Malao flinched, nearly stumbling into Ying. It was Fu. He stood at the opposite end of the clearing, pointing off into the forest.
    Malao nodded. He was about to join Fu when something shiny on the other side of the clearing caught his eye. Malao strained his vision and took several steps in that direction. He saw a soldier asleep in the shadows. The shiny object was the hilt of the man's straight sword reflecting the firelight.
    Malao took a few more steps and the soldier groaned, rolling over. Malao held his breath.
    A moment later, the soldier began to snore. Malao released a huge sigh of relief. He turned away from the sleeping soldier and ran off to join Fu, never noticing the man's extraordinarily long ponytail.

“ T hat was way too easy,” Fu said, panting heavily. He stopped ahead of Malao on the dark forest trail.
    Malao nearly crashed into Fu. “Careful, Pussycat. What are you doing?”
    “Something strange is going on,” Fu said. “I want to stop and think for a moment.”
    “Don't hurt yourself,” Malao replied. He giggled.
    Fu ignored the comment. He bent over and examined the ground. Malao leaned over next to him.
    “Are you sure this is the right trail?” Malao asked.
    “No,” Fu said. “The cage was covered with blankets the whole time the soldiers carried me. However, the boot prints on this trail are fairly