[Center][h3][sup]Bo-Congro. Late Afternoon. Same Day.[/sup][/h3][/Center]
	The setting sun filtered through the leaves as a single Matoran made a trek through the Green. He was nearing Le-Congro, that much he could tell, because the air was getting warmer, wetter, heavier. To be honest, he preferred the more brisk mountain air near his home to the humid, thicker air around Ga-Congro and Le-Congro. His crystal blue eyes shifted about, casting their faint light towards the trunks and low hanging branches. He was after one specific tree in particular. Unfortunately, he had to pass very close to a Brakas bed to get there. There was something unnerving about the Brakas. Maybe it was the way they moved, or how they almost looked like a Matoran, but not quite. Perhaps it was the stories he heard, how they had terrible tempers and could fall into fierce howling fits. Whatever the reason, Hura felt a chill amongst his armor, despite the muggy air near the undergrowth.