Fastening the last buttons on his new cloak he whipped open his cottage door, closing his eyes against the harsh bite of the winter air. The day had barely begun and he already thought it couldn’t get any worse. Being called into work by your overbearing boss on the weekend was bad enough but being asked to do so in the middle of a white-out blizzard? That would be considered abuse in some of the more considerate territories in the kingdom.
He had only taken a single step through the threshold when he began sliding across his porch. Not stopping until he tripped over something rather small and heavy and was sent flopping onto his stomach like the fish on the dock of a port. His cloak was covered in snow and his hair, once an orderly bun at the top of his head, now resembled his nieces hair after a particularly rough day playing in the nearby forest. He wiped the snow off his eyes to behold what could have possibly tripped him and saw an ornate golden chest, embellished with rubies that formed the seal of the kingdom of Brownwell.
What on earth could this possibly be doing here?! He left Brownwell when he was not yet ten years old, changed his name, and took a weeks long trip by boat to the most unassuming territory in all of West Ashwood. Now, after nearly twenty years since he has seen or heard from any of the royal family they choose to disturb his peacefully bland life with an ominous chest on his porch?
Oh, this will not do. This will not do at all. He quickly collected himself and pulled the chest into the cottage before anyone could see it and asked questions. It must be a sick coincidence, right? There is no way they could have found him.
Slowly he lifted the latched and peered inside. The moment he saw what the chest contained, he wished he’d never opened it… but it was too late now.
A blue orb floated into the air and seemed to look at him. A tracker. He’d remembered these from his time spent as a child in Brownwell. His family had put one in his dog so they could find him when he would run away. Mesmerized, he took a step forward to observe it more closely. He could have sworn he could see the waves of the southern sea crashing at its center. Before he could gather his wits, the tracker floated into the center of his chest and disappeared.
He looked back into the chest and noticed a note at the bottom in the ancient language that appeared to be engraved in salt. He began to translate the note, the ancient language returning to him rather naturally for having not used it for almost two decades. He began to shake as he deciphered its meaning, “Good luck hiding now, Prince.”
Peering over the railing, Harambe watched as the humans in the cage - or enclosure, to those who like to pretend the cages are in some way for the humans sake - wait to receive their nightly meal. To most gorillas who come to the zoo, watching the humans feed is considered highly stimulating. All of them crowded together as they eat the meat of another animal. It is quite barbaric really when you think about it. Harambe on the other hand found that the most interesting time at the zoo was not during the meal - but right before it. At this point the humans are at their most aggravated state, lashing out at the other humans in the cage over minor inconveniences. That is when the real entertainment happens.
Harambe was pulled from his thoughts when he caught sight of movement below. The humans began to stir, sensing that their feeding time was near. One of the smaller humans cried out in distress as a larger one pushed it to the ground. They seemed to be screaming at each other in that unintelligible language of theirs and Harambe wished he could understand what all of the fuss was about. Harambe looked closer as the small human on the ground got up and charged the large human. The large human stepped into an attacking stance and was pulling its fist back to hit the small human when -
Harambe screamed as he fell through the barrier that protected him from the humans below and he plummeted into their bathing pool. Disoriented from the fall, he did not have time to react as the large human grabbed his foot and began dragging him through the water. He couldn't hear anything over the roaring of the gorillas watching from above and could not breath as water filled his nose and mouth. He was going to die, he thought, as the human whipped him back and forth under the water. He was going to die and they would have to pry his dead body from the hands of this lowly creature before they could bury him besides the other members of his troop that had passed.
Just as he thought he would pass out from lack of oxygen, Harambe heard the sound of gun shots and the humans grip on his leg went slack. He slowly raised his head from the water and Harambe's jaw went slack as he took in the human dead before him, several bullet holes lodged in its body.
The news reports ran nonstop for days, showing videos of his near death at the hands of the large human. The reporters depicted the human as the bad guy, and as much as Harambe wanted to agree with them he often found himself lying awake at night feeling immense guilt. If he had been more careful and not fallen the human would still be alive. What made his life more valuable than another's, anyway?
