Each of you wakes as you have for most of the past 18 years, with sun on your face, dangling about 8 meters off the ground in a barkcloth hammock tied to two sturdy branches of the same Berth tree you used to fashioned the hammock from. As you shake the the sleep from your mind and limbs, your hammock begins to rock back and forth, giving you a shifting view of the jungle canopy, from the massive trunk and droopy leaves of your Berth tree to the sun soaked glowing leaves of surrounding trees.
Slowly the hammock comes back to rest, and as it does you notice the attention that your motion has brought upon you. You can feel the stares of a hundred curious and cautious critters, your neighbors, penetrating the camouflage of the barkcloth hammock, and raising your heckles.
“Its safe my children, do not fret” screams a crackly old voice, far too loud for your liking. “If there were any Hunters or dangerous beasts about either the Bloombanger birds would have seen them or the Slimey geckos would have smelled them and then the whole tree would have erupted in a cacophony of squawks, chirps, squeals and yelps.”
Peering just over the rim of your hammock, your eyes move from branch to branch catching the slight motion of 2 other hammocks rocking gently, and a third rocking violently as a grizzly old Dwarf dangles one leg over its edge flailing just above a nearby branch. “Well young whippersnappers, aren’t you going to help your Uncle Popper get down so I can you know… protect you.. feed you… and whatnot?”