Stepping down from the terrace, the sun shines with a few wispy clouds floating overhead. In moments, enveloped in shadows, only patches of blue are visible overhead among the tall trees. Or are they trees? Most are tall and slender, only opening their arms as they near the sky above. Some, are not so tall, but have broad leaves close to the ground with tall stalks growing up toward the sky. They seem to have more room than other tree-things.

Some of the broad leaves are smooth and seem almost edible. The forest smells sweet and damp, drops of dew everywhere on this low level. Other leaves are sharp, as if warding off any visitors. Strange life all around.

But it is dim and in the shadows and there is a sense of movement. Never clear enough to identify, but the shadows move as the tree-things bend and sway. Perhaps it is the wind, but not entirely. Scritches of movement and calls like high pitched strings abound. There are other sound, too. Some low, deep rumbles, others of twigs snapping. Still the creatures responsible seem invisible. Some seem perched above, others moving on the ground.

Not alone, though it feels that way. And, perhaps a little fear. A strange sort of jungle, but a jungle none-the-less.

Suddenly, silence. Sounds stop and everything seems to pause, holding its breath. A momentary shadow from above moves across the floor, over the twigs and leaves and other forest detritus. It swoops and circles, looking for something. Swiftly it drops then rises. As it does, a long snake-like thing wriggles in its claws. Still the shadows make it difficult to see our predator.

All stays quiet for a bit. Then slowly, sounds begin again. Life goes on, once the immediate danger has passed.

The breeze aloft causes a gentle swaying, leaving flickering shadows on the ground. The flickers are quick and creatures on the ground cannot hide in the shadows. Giant creatures on the ground, their steps shaking everything. They are living tanks. Scurrying out of the way are many legged creatures, antenna moving constantly, as if trying to find the safest path.

Watching carefully from behind a stalk, a large many-legged creature stalks one of the tanks.

“Who will win?”

Yet, that is not the most fearsome monster in this jungle. Off to the left, deeper into this green world, a large, hairy thing skittering along the ground. Its voice high pitched, squeaking now and then. It’s hind legs huge, but the front more finely formed. Giant claws on limbs made for digging and hair, shades of brown and gray.

Farther in, two glowing eyes and a long tongue flicking this way and that. Silently, the head, even more gigantic, slides forward, toward the furry digger. The mouth opens and suddenly the digger is enveloped in loops as its head is swallowed, whole! Frightening, yet fascinating.

Over time, hearing more acute, many more sounds can be heard in this world, though most are of breaking twigs and skittering to escape a predator. The wind is not too bad here by the ground, the gentlest of breeze. Far above, it is more violent, but not transferred down the stems of of green and brown around me. I encounter those tank-like creatures, much larger than me. There are grubs in the soil, peeking out where something disturbed the ground. Worms the size of my legs are out, food for the creatures that fly. I’m glad I’m not one of them – I can move quickly; I hope not into some other monster’s mouth.

Eyes adjusting, to the half light from above, life in the middle levels is now visible. Every now and then, something leaps from a stalk, shaking it from the middle up and down. Strange creatures they are, too. The back legs are huge and strong, letting them leap from stalk and stem to another. If the distance is too far, wings appear, as if from nowhere, to assist. Their faces seem to mesmerize with powerful jaws. Fierce, a close encounter should be avoided. They don’t come to the ground, if there is a stem in reach, as if they fear it. And, well they might with the large creatures below. They seem to prefer hopping from branch to branch, down enough to hide from the flying creatures that might swoop in. They aren’t always successful.

Wondering up a low rise where the forest is broken with stubby plants chewed off and bent, dry stalks falling over, Living things abound. This dry area shelters many, providing cover from above and to the sides. A little to the left a mound of dirt rises, as if a volcano. While it is above the low growth around it, no volcano is it. Many creatures, dark and fearsome, march up and down the slope and into a bowl at the top. Their mission is not clear, but they seem serious about it. And single minded, too. Nothing seems to disturb them in their marching.

But no, the conclusion is too quick. Another creature crosses their line. A fight ensues. Those dark creatures break ranks and attack. It is precise, almost military. It is horrifying. Though the trespasser is many times their size, they overwhelm. Soon the battle is over, the victors take the looser as their spoils, carrying it in pieces into their mound. It is, at once, monstrous and fantastic, what war might seem in this realm.

They are striking, shiny and black with large pinching jaws. And they are strong. Exploring in another direction seems a good choice.

Turning right and going deeper, the shadows darken, a permanent twilight. Life is thick here. Many creatures, not all monsters, great and small, creep, hop, stalk, even stroll along. All have their own purposes, avoiding interaction, except to feed or defend. I don’t really fit within this stratified society of monsters and other creatures. Simply staying out of the way and observing is a lot of work. Yet, it avoids becoming some creature’s dinner.

In the twilight, large creatures are felt more than hearing or seeing movement. They must be large, because the air moves with them and the stalks bend and crack with their steps. Slipping into a crevasse, a crack in the ground. letting them come. And one does. Not to me but near, I’m not noticed, not big enough. Gigantic, rounded bodies with fur covering. Eyes dark and piercing. It might see me, but I’m not the quarry. A sudden scurry and in its mouth full of teeth is a large hopper from the middle levels. Lunch.

Stillness is the better part of valor. I wait. After a time, nose quivering, whiskers searching, it leaves. Perhaps seeking a second course. I wait longer, avoiding contact as I hear other large things.

Soon all is quiet again. The small sounds return, chirps and whistles and others defying description. The small noises of life all around me. Softer perhaps, but back after the violence of the kill. Softly creeping through this jungle trying to be unnoticed. The stalks so close only glimpses of sky show through.

Suddenly a rumbling, rapid and growing in volume breaks through the other sounds of life. It seems mechanical, not really part of the this jungle. The creatures do not go silent. Instead, they cry out – warnings, perhaps? Those in the upper levels prepare to jump or fly, as if life depended on it. Those in the middle and lower levels flock to the ground and under anything providing shelter. It is a panic. All join them as the rumble becomes a roar.

The wind begins to grab at any stalks, tall or short. It twists horribly. And, it lifts. Soon it is above, hiding the sky. Stalks are shredded. Any thing not secure is lifted up, returning only as pieces. But it doesn’t reach the ground.

In moments it has moved on, leaving desolation, or so it seems. Yet most creatures survived. Only the plants – stalks, leaves, grass-like things are damaged. Cut nearly to the ground, but not destroyed. They will grow again, bringing the jungle back. The creatures are grounded, but they live. They will find other places, other sustenance, other battles, till this jungle grows back. And it will, over and over again, a never-ending journey, if not quite a cycle, of life.