Marcy
“I am the teacher!” she spoke with such force that the birds quieted in the trees. In frustration, she kept up her anger march through the jungle. Her face turned upward and she railed at the sky. Her students were driving her mad. The three rotten monsters had forced her to contemplate chewing off her arm. Their refusal to cooperate and their insane annoyance pervaded her mind. Suddenly tripping, she fell onto the road, flat on her face. Face down, she pounded the dust with her fists before hoisting herself up. She brushed off her dress, and her arms stilled as her ears perked at the sound of coming horsemen. A quiet scan of the trees revealed a likely prospect. Hiking up her dusty dress she shuffled her tracks and tiptoed to her pick. Within half a minute, Marcy was high in the tree visiting the monkeys with a finger to her lips. Soon a whole host of riders passed beneath her eyes. The leader slowed and stopped, commanded his men to spread out across the road and into the jungle. Marcy held her breath, not daring to move even though a million pairs of monkey eyes bored into her skull.
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