Mitch groaned in groggy annoyance when the sunlight shone through the thin leaf blinds that were open just enough to let the warm, welcoming rays inside the room. After eating their fill, the mismatched family had all gone to watch the tiny suns called stars rule over the night sky, taking the place of their father that had given the gift of light to all living things and let the mother of the stars, the moon, watch the civilians sleep her night away, allowing nocturnal creatures of all kinds to roam freely without fearing being sighted by other inhabitants.

The boy stretched his arms high over his head, mouth straining open in a silent yawn as he slid off the cushiony bed with soft feet, making little to no noise as he crept down the wooden stairs and toward the remains of the carcass they had been unable to finish.

It was mostly muscle and gnawed bone, though the portion that he had been given still carried a fair amount of fat that he could eat for breakfast. Carefully shredding the pelt off the chunk that had been shoved into a leaf that was folded like a bowl and was filled with ice, Mitch picked off small pieces and placed them into his mouth, chewing slowly and savoring the taste that spread through his mouth like a wild fire.

The male sighs in contempt, snatching a milk bottle and chugging it quickly, liquid trickling through the side of his lips and rolling down his chin, not stopping until it's all gone. Mitch wipes his mouth and rushes to the door that had been placed at the front entrance, swiftly grabbing a spear on his way out. He would go hunting for Jerome and his father today, he usually would if he was the first to awake when the sun kissed the sky again.

The stone spear had been sharpened to a barbed point; good for lodging into ones skin, thick or thin, but almost impossible to pull out. Some of these weapons carried poison found in certain herbs, quickly traveling through the prey's system and killing them almost immediately. This particular one didn't have it, but it was just as deadly if aimed correctly. The shaft was nicely polished oak wood with buckskin wrapping around the bottom and spear, connecting the wooden pole to the point.

Mitch's feet skimmed the jungle leaves, leaping easily from one canopy to another, smoothly maneuvering around branches sticking out from other trees or ducking down into the branches and swinging from them instead when the foliage grew to far apart to jump from each one.

Abruptly, a noise assaulted his ears and nearly shattered them, causing for the boy to skid to a stop and cover his head, pulling his flannel jacket over his noggin to muffle the horrible sound. It was a mixture of branches breaking and a camp of banshees shrieking the loudest they could. Mitch tucked his spear behind him, securing the weapon in the leather strap slung across his shoulder to waist and around his back.

He slid down the rough bark, clinging to the branches connected to the trunk as his wide, brown eyes peered through the gaps in the leaves. What he saw startled him so much, he nearly fell off the tree he was perched on. Metal machines dug through the earth, uprooting plants and scaring away critters that had been there minutes before. They were plowing a straight line through the jungle, pistons shifting every second to keep it running.

Mitchell gasps, covering his mouth with a free hand in horror as he continues to observe the proceedings safely from above. They were destroying animals homes! They were ruining his home! He had to protect the tribe, keep them away, but how could one teenager ever accomplish such a task? It was enough labor to hunt and defend his pack from other predators stronger then them, such as aggressive and overprotective bears.

With the boy being so lost in thought, his slight mis-footing when he shifts in his refuge sends him sprawling into a pile of leaves--unnoticed, thankfully. He peers through the dead plants carefully, already dragging his lower half out of the mess and making sure to attach the spear to his back more firmly, it having fallen off when he plummeted to the ground.

Once he was protected by the cover of leaves, Mitch sprinted off, wanting more then anything to warn his peculiar family about what was happening near their home. If his racing opponent reaches their section of the forest, all the furry creatures would be forced either to fight or evacuate. And he was sure that the nature of Bacca's was to protect their home when the defenseless or weaker ones ran.

This would not end well, for either sides.

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A young man carrying a chipped but shining iron axe raced up to the male surveying the proceedings of destruction from his vantage point on a tree that was specifically not chopped down for supervision. "Sir, we have found a map to a clearing none have explored before."

The man turns slowly as a grin stretches maliciously almost from ear to ear, murmuring in an ominous tone, "perfect. More fresh plants to be killed. We head there in the morning." He ushers the tired worker away, staring at the sparkling ocean on the far horizon as the gears in his head turn.

"Soon." He laughs maniacally, eyes shining with insanity and fists clenched with unseen rage. "Soon, we will destroy every forest and that damn protection unit won't have anything else to protect!" And with that, a knife sinks far into the cushiony wood, right over the smiling face of a furry humanoid.