In the last adventure, a mysterious mound popped up on the main path. It felt warm to the touch, hard as rock, silent and still during the day. Elephant Sylvester couldn’t get past it, Squirrel Wanda heard rattling at night, and Owl Sylvia saw hundreds of glowing dots around it. Kuba tested how hard it was with his own foot—and regretted it right away. The detectives headed back to base with one big plan: they’d stay by the mound all night. First, they’d grab what they needed.
### Chapter 6: Was It Really Just One Night?
They got back to base just after Zofia. As Kuba slipped inside, he quietly pulled out a little notebook and scribbled a note to his cousin, Panther Agata from the zoo. „Agata—hard mound, warm to touch, grew up from the ground by itself. Seen anything like it?” He folded the paper and handed it to Ala to deliver. Then he sat at the table, looking innocent as could be.
„I’ve talked to Sylvester,” Zofia started. „And it turns out… he’s not sure when the mound appeared.”
„What do you mean?” asked Patrycja, flipping open her notebook.
„He said during the whole rainy season, he hardly used that path because the mud was knee-deep. Right after the rains, he went to visit his cousin down south—gone for a whole month. Only this morning, coming back from the water hole, he bumped into it. Though…” Zofia shook her head a bit. „When I asked more, he admitted maybe something was there at the start of the rainy season. Small. Pumpkin-sized. But he didn’t notice then.”
Patrycja wrote it all down carefully.
„Wanda said the same,” she added. „She barely ran that path during the rains. Last time was maybe two or three months ago. And then… something small? She’s not sure.”
„So,” said Kuba, „the mound didn’t grow overnight.”
„No,” Patrycja agreed. „It grew while no one was looking. All through the rainy season, when the path was muddy and everyone stayed away. No one saw it because no one went there.”
Everyone went quiet for a moment.
„And one more thing,” Patrycja said. „During the day, the mound is dead silent. Like nothing’s inside. Wanda heard rattling at dawn. Sylvia saw bugs in the dead of night.” She looked at Kuba. „Whatever lives there comes alive in the dark.”
Alfred slowly set down his vial at his little table.
Everyone turned to him.
„We’re staying by the mound tonight,” he said, not looking up.
„That’s exactly what I was going to suggest,” Patrycja added.
„I know,” Alfred replied, picking up the vial again.
Patrycja closed her notebook.
„Let’s sum it up,” she said slowly. „Hard as rock, but not rock. Warm, even without sun all morning. Dead and quiet by day. Alive at night. No one knows how long it’s been there. No one brought it. It grew itself.”
Silence.
„So,” said Kuba, „we stay tonight.”
No one argued.
Alfred, eyes still on his work, said calmly, „Bring something warm. And stay quiet.”
„You know what it is, don’t you?” Patrycja said. It wasn’t a question.
Alfred paused.
„Wait for night,” he said. „You’ll see for yourselves.”
### Chapter 7: Staying Overnight
Getting ready for the night watch didn’t take long. Patrycja packed her notebook, pencil, and magnifying glass. Zofia grabbed a blanket. Kuba took a flashlight and two extra steak cookies—”Night watch needs fuel,” he said seriously. Alfred brought one empty vial.
Before they left, Kuba glanced at Alfred.
„You coming?”
Alfred tucked the vial into his vest pocket.
„Yes.”
„What about the analysis?”
„Done,” Alfred said calmly. „Golden honey, fruit syrup, nut cream, honey lemonade, mint syrup. All natural. Nothing to hurt the lake, plants, or animals. No action needed.”
„So it was all pranks,” Kuba muttered.
„Wanda wasn’t pranking,” Alfred said. „Her string just broke. Happens even in the best plans.”
„Good,” said Patrycja, closing her notebook. „We can tell everyone the water will just taste sweet for a few days.”
They packed up. Alfred took a flashlight, Patrycja tucked her notebook under her arm, Zofia draped the blanket over her shoulders.
Alfred led the way out.
### Chapter 8: The City That Wakes in the Dark
They set up by the mound just before sunset. Zofia spread her blanket off to the side, under an acacia tree with a perfect view. Patrycja sat closer, notebook on her lap. Kuba took the middle spot, flashlight aimed at the mound. Alfred sat closest, cross-legged, vial in paw, eyes closed.
The sun dipped low. The jungle hushed—birds stopped singing, monkeys quit swinging, wind died down. The mound stood gray and hard in the fading light, totally still.
Kuba yawned.
„Maybe Wanda was wrong,” he whispered after a while.
„Shh,” Alfred said, eyes shut.
An hour passed. It got really dark.
Then Zofia whispered, „Look.”
Tiny dots appeared at the mound’s base. Bright, almost white—they poked out of little holes and headed into the dark.
One. Five. Twenty.
In the dark, the mound turned into a city.
Kuba’s mouth fell open. Alfred quietly put a paw on his shoulder. Shh.
Each dot carried something—a bit of clay, a grain of sand—stuck it to the wall, then went back. Again. Again.
Then came the sound. A soft, dry rustle—like thousands of tiny jaws chewing in rhythm. Not scary. Alive.
Patrycja scribbled as fast as she could. Zofia stretched her neck, eyes wide. Kuba sat with his mouth open, forgetting his flashlight. The mound glowed brighter than expected: termite lights made a twinkling halo.
Alfred opened his vial, caught a whiff of air, capped it, and pocketed it. Then he watched quietly.
„Alfred,” Kuba whispered at last, „what are they doing?”
„Building,” Alfred whispered back, barely audible. „Just like last night. And the night before. All through the rainy season, while everyone slept.”
„Do they always look like this?” Zofia asked.
„Always,” Alfred said. „Dead and silent by day. The whole city wakes at night.”
Kuba stared at the twinkling, living lump of clay.
„They never stop?” he said slowly. „Ever?”
„No,” Alfred said. „One night, they add what fits in a teacup. But in a year—up to Sylvester’s knees. In five years—taller than you, Zofia.”
Zofia straightened her neck.
„Five years,” she whispered.
„Night after night,” Alfred confirmed.
They sat watching the tiny dots that didn’t know they had visitors, never pausing their work.
Patrycja closed her notebook.
„Now I know what it is,” she whispered.
„What?” Kuba asked.
„A home,” Patrycja said. „A very, very patient home.”
### Chapter 9: Alfred Explains It All
Back at base, moon high, Alfred sat at his table, lit the lamp, and uncapped his vial. He sniffed long, eyes closed, nose twitching.
„Well?” Kuba asked.
Alfred opened his eyes.
„Termites,” he said.
Everyone sat.
„First,” Alfred began, „what you saw was millions of insects working like one big body. Each smaller than your thumbnail, Kuba. Together, they build towers that last through storms, droughts—decades.”
„How do they know what to do?” Zofia asked.
„No one knows for sure,” Alfred admitted. „No boss telling them 'go here, put that there.’ Each just knows. Together, they make something none could dream alone.”
„Like the jungle,” Patrycja whispered.
„Sort of,” Alfred agreed. „They build with clay, chewed wood, their spit. Dries hard as rock in the sun. Shovel won’t stick, stick breaks—” Kuba grumbled. „—foot hurts too.”
„Go on,” Kuba said with dignity.
„Inside—thousands of tunnels, rooms. Bedrooms, stores, air vents. And gardens.”
„Gardens?” Patrycja said.
„Termites grow mushrooms inside for food. Special rooms. Keeps the mound warm—nearly thirty degrees all year—for the fungi. That’s why it felt warm, even after cold rain.”
„Inside… a garden?” Kuba said slowly.
„In a way.”
„And alarm system?”
„Yes. Wanda’s rattling? Soldiers. Danger comes, they bang heads on tunnel walls. One is quieter than a whisper. Thousands? Like paper balls.” Alfred eyed Kuba. „They woke when you kicked.”
Kuba thought.
„Guarding their home,” he said.
„Yes.”
„Grew half a year, night by night, inch by inch—no one saw, ’cause rainy path was empty.”
„Yes.”
„In five years, taller than Zofia.”
„Probably.”
Kuba rested his chin on his paws, staring at the lamp.
„Alfred,” he said, „this is the most amazing thing in the whole jungle.”
„What do we do?” Zofia asked.
Patrycja closed her notebook.
„Nothing,” she said calmly. „Can’t. Don’t need to. Termites picked the spot. Mound grows. We take another path.”
Quiet.
„Wisest choice,” Kuba admitted.
A knock. In the doorway stood tall black Panther Agata, glasses on nose, briefcase in paw.
„Cousin,” she smiled faintly. „Got your note. Late, but… you have answers?”
„Agata!” Kuba beamed. „Just finished.”
Agata entered, set her briefcase on the table, opened it.
„Zoo scientists watched months. Termite colony left town, headed deep jungle. No one knew where.” She looked at Alfred. „Now we do.”
„Left?” Patrycja echoed.
„Voluntarily,” Agata said. „New home. Town folks relaxed—no worry for houses. Termites just moved here.”
Alfred nodded.
„Good spot,” he said. „Warm, quiet, far from noise. If I were termite, I’d pick that hill.”
Kuba looked at Agata, the mound outside, back to Alfred.
„Everyone wins,” he murmured.
„Everyone wins,” Agata agreed, closing her briefcase.
Quiet.
„Wisest choice,” Kuba said again.
### Chapter 10: A New Path
Next morning, Zofia went first. Back in minutes.
„Found it,” she said. „Through shady grove, straight to lake. Longer, but peaceful.”
Patrycja sketched a quick map. Kuba showed Sylvester—the elephant trumpeted joy. Alfred marked safe spots for Wanda. Owl Sylvia, told along the way, noted the termite mound as „Jungle Architecture Wonder” in her book. „Kids see it next lesson—look only, no digging.”
Kuba, nearby, whistled and eyed the ceiling.
Evening, all on the porch with tea and last cookies. Sun set behind palms. Lake shimmered.
Alfred sipped, gazed at jungle.
He lifted his nose. Sniffed—slow, careful.
„Hm,” he said softly.
„What?” Patrycja asked, eyes on notebook.
„Nothing,” Alfred said.
But his nose twitched.