Milo swings through the canopy with a small scroll tied to his back. The village below is waiting for word from the other side of the river. He is the fastest runner they have — the only one who can cross the gorge and return before sundown. He drops onto a branch and checks the knot. The scroll is still there. He hears a snap. A larger shadow moves in the trees above him.

Milo freezes. The shadow drops. It is another monkey — one he has never seen. It points at the scroll. It holds out its hand. Milo clutches the scroll. The stranger bares its teeth. Then from the valley comes a sound: drums. The stranger's head turns. In that second Milo leaps — and when he lands, he is not alone. The scroll is gone. But in his palm is something else: a single seed. And the stranger is smiling.

The elders have posted a guard on the sacred tree. No one may eat the golden fruit until the festival. Milo has watched the fruit ripen for days. His stomach growls. He waits until the guard dozes. He climbs. He reaches. His fingers close around the fruit. Then a voice: 'Put it back.' The guard is awake. Milo hesitates. The guard stands. He is not angry. He is sad. He says the fruit is not for eating. It is for someone who is coming. Someone who will need it to remember who they are. Milo looks at the fruit. He looks at the guard. He puts it back. As he climbs down, the guard tosses him a different fruit — from his own pouch. Milo catches it. The guard says: 'You passed. Tomorrow you will be the one who guards the tree.' Milo does not understand. But when he bites into the fruit, he tastes something strange. Memory. And he knows — he has done this before.

The troop is moving. The sky is dark. Milo is at the rear, watching the youngest keep up. Lightning splits the clouds. The little one freezes. Milo runs back. He takes their hand. He points at the cave ahead. They run. The rain starts. They reach the cave. The troop is already inside. Milo counts. Everyone is there. Then he hears a cry. It is not from the cave. It is from the tree they left behind. A bird — a chick — has fallen from its nest. The mother circles above. Milo looks at the troop. He looks at the storm. He runs back out. He climbs the tree. The branch is slick. He reaches the nest. The chick is there, trembling. He tucks it into his chest. He climbs down. Halfway to the cave, the branch beneath him breaks. He falls. He lands in the mud. He opens his hands. The chick is safe. He looks up. The troop is at the cave mouth. They are coming for him. And in the nest above, the mother bird drops something at his feet. A feather. White. He does not know what it means. But he keeps it.

Milo finds a box in the river. It is small, wooden, covered in carvings. He cannot open it. He brings it to the troop. No one can open it. They pass it around. They shake it. Something rattles inside. Milo takes it back. He sits by the water. He turns it over. He presses the carvings. One of them moves. A panel slides. Inside is a key. And a note. The note says: 'For the one who waits.' Milo does not understand. He takes the key. He walks along the river. He finds a door in the rock. A door he has never seen. The key fits. He turns it. The door opens. Inside is a room. And in the room is a mirror. In the mirror he does not see himself. He sees another monkey — older, with a scar over one eye. The monkey in the mirror speaks. He says: 'You found it. Now you have a choice. Stay, or step through.' Milo looks at the key. He looks at the mirror. He steps forward. And the mirror does not break. It bends. Like water.

Milo has been chosen for the night watch. He sits in the highest branch. The moon is full. The forest is quiet. Then he sees a light. A small light, moving between the trees. It is not a fire. It is not a star. It is something else. He climbs down. He follows. The light leads him to a clearing. In the clearing is a flower. A flower that glows. He has never seen such a flower. He reaches for it. A hand stops him. It is the elder. The elder says: 'Do not pick it. It blooms once every hundred years. It blooms for one night. If you pick it, it dies. If you leave it, it will seed the forest.' Milo asks: 'What does it do?' The elder says: 'It shows you what you will become.' Milo looks at the flower. He looks at the elder. He does not pick it. He sits. He watches. And as the flower blooms, he sees something in its light. A face. His face. But different. And behind him, a troop he does not know. A troop that follows him. The elder says: 'You saw.' Milo nods. The elder says: 'When the time comes, you will remember.' Then the flower fades. And the forest is dark again.