Rosaman’s head hung low.
“We have to do something,” Petari said.
“She wasn’t this bad before we came in here,” Rosaman said, anxiety swirling around him. “Maybe we should take her back to the Barbs.”
“That’s where she got sick.” Petari peered at the baby, who was still releasing a pained scream. “The bananas helped her when we first came in.”
“Get her some more bananas, then,” Storma said, wiping sweat off her brow.
“We tried that. She’s not eating now.” Petari hugged the baby closer. “Shhh, shhh.”
Luco patted Rosaman on the shoulder. “We can go back to the Barbs for a raid tomorrow. Maybe we’ll find something. Right, Storma?”
“I doubt it. I just tol—”
Luco glared at Storma. “We’ll find something tomorrow, right?”
The girl side-eyed Luco, her red hair flaring bright in the sun. “Sure. We’ll find something tomorrow.” Her words didn’t sound like they could be believed, but still, she turned to Rosaman and said, “We’ll take care of your sister. Don’t worry.”
Rosaman nodded. “Okay.”
“Let’s try the bananas again,” Luco said. “I bet I can get her to eat them.”
Petari sighed. “We can try.”
“Everyone,” Luco shouted to the group, “let’s see what other food we can find. We’ll fill up one of these buildings with food, right?”
The others responded with cheers and “Yay”s. Storma shoved the tools back into the sky-colored carrying hammock. Then the group left Petari and the baby and headed toward the trees to the north of the village. The way they’d come in. The way they knew. Good.
The baby’s crying didn’t stop. Petari hugged her close.
“It’s okay, Ruthie,” Petari said, her voice as soft as an orchid petal. “We’re going to be okay. I promise.”
She lifted the baby again, then rocked her. Inside the heliconia bush, Arrow jumped back. He could see the other side of the baby now. One of her arms was wrapped in white material and pointed at the end.
Petari kissed the forehead of the screaming baby, winced, then laid little Ruthie back on the blanket on the top step.
“Where were the bananas again?” The shout came from Luco at the other side of the clearing.
“To the left,” Petari called back.
“We can’t find them.”
Petari’s eyes rolled in her head. “What about Ruthie?”
Luco pushed a girl whose brown hair stood up like a kingfisher’s feathers back into the field. She looked maybe eleven rings. “Delora will keep watch. Come on.”
Petari turned to the baby. “Ruthie, these people would be dead without me. But a banana might make you feel better. You stay in your bed. I’ll be right back.”
She picked up the crying bundle, carried her into the hut, then left, closing the door protectively behind.
She ran to Luco, calling out, “You’d get lost in a shopping cart, you know.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Delora lifted her arms.
“Stay with Ruthie and keep an eye out,” Luco returned.
“For what?” The girl looked around, but Luco and Petari had disappeared into the trees. Delora sighed, then trudged to the structure, her eyes darting toward the tree line. The shouts and laughter of the rest of the herd echoed out of the forest, and I could feel her jealousy sinking into the ground below her.
Arrow watched, watched, watched, then lifted onto his toes.
No, Arrow. Don’t go!
Curly must’ve had the same thought. She grabbed his ankle to keep it in place. But Arrow picked her up, said, “Shhh,” then slipped out from under the bush.
Large ferns were dotted between him and the structure, and he slunk from one to the next, all the while keeping an eye on Delora, who was approaching the hut. By the time she trod up the steps, he was only a few strides away. As soon as she went inside, he dashed for the wall, Curly clinging to his arm.
His feet were light over the grass. He ran quickly, then flattened himself against the back of the hut. His pulse thudded out from his soles, and he gulped air into his lungs. He was used to playing hide-and-find with Curly and the other monkeys—he was even used to hiding from the more dangerous creatures in the forest—but he didn’t know humans and couldn’t predict their actions.
“It’s okay, Ruthie.” Delora hummed a melody, and her voice drifted through the hole cut into the wall above Arrow’s head. He glanced up at the sound and smiled.
Arrow whispered something into Curly’s ear, but the bees that were showing me the images were too far to hear. Curly glared at Arrow, then shook her head definitively. I didn’t know what Arrow was up to, but it didn’t look good. I liked Curly’s answer.
But Arrow bent close to her again, whispered more words, and this time his mouth twitched up into a mischievous grin. No, I didn’t like this at all.
Curly suddenly jumped from Arrow’s arm and into the open field beyond the hut. She leaped over to the cart and started banging on it hard. Curly!
It must’ve had the desired effect, because when Delora came running out, shouting, “Hey! Don’t touch that,” Arrow took the stairs fast, pushed open the door, and entered.
My leaves froze. What was he doing? He was taking too many chances. He might be discovered!
He was in the hut for only a flap of a butterfly’s wings before he scurried out and into the ferns.
My leaves exhaled in relief, but he didn’t head my way or climb to the safety of the canopy. Instead he waited until Delora was turned away from him, then did his best impression of a macaw. Curly glanced his way long enough to see Arrow spin his hand in the air. He was telling the monkey to continue. I’d have to have words with them if they survived!
Curly jumped into the cart and picked up something. It looked like a spoon. She waved it in the air, leaped back out of the cart, and ran around the field, a yelling Delora chasing after her. From the hut, Arrow ran into the trees to the south, then pounded west. His arms brushed away branches, fingers searched leaves. Until he stopped, paused, turned, and ran back.
What was he doing?
When he got to the wall of the hut this time, he first peered into the field. Delora was laughing and running, but Curly was good at shifting direction to evade the girl’s hands.
Arrow dashed up the stairs, heart pounding, and back inside the hut. I could no longer feel his weight, and there were no bees inside to send me images of what he was doing.
But I could feel footsteps approaching—fast. It was the herd, and they were weighted down. They must’ve found more fruit. They crashed through the bushes and into the field, arms laden.
Get back, Arrow. Get back!
Finally Arrow slid out the door. One glance at the herd told him he had to hurry. Instead of taking the steps, he jumped down and flattened himself in the shadow of the hut.
“Look at this little guy,” Delora called out as the herd came back.
“How cute!” This was Petari. “What is he doing?”
Curly glared at the humans, no doubt for being mistaken as a boy, then ran west as quickly as she could, tearing around the other huts and into the far edge of the forest. Thank you, Curly, for not heading south.
“Hey, don’t go!” Delora shouted to the monkey.
But Luco said, “Ah, let it go. We probably scared it. Besides, we don’t want the monkey getting any of this. Look!” He held up the bananas in his hands.
Arrow had been peering around the side of the hut. Go, Arrow! Go! But his eyes were fixed on the humans chatting and laughing.
“Where’s Ruthie?” Rosaman asked.
“In the house,” Delora said, rummaging through the prize the herd had brought back.
“I’ll get her,” Petari said, and jogged toward the structure. Toward Arrow!
The boy jumped—finally—and ran back to the cover of the ferns. He crawled under a bunch of large leaves, just as Petari stomped up the stairs.<
br />
All right, Arrow. You’ve seen. You’ve done. Now come back.
But he stayed. The baby’s crying had stopped, and Arrow peeked through the long leaves as Petari appeared on the top step, the bundle in her arms.
“Delora, what did you put on Ruthie?”
Delora looked up. “Huh?”
Petari lifted the baby.
“I didn’t touch her. I promise,” Delora said.
Arrow shrugged farther into the fern, his eyes still on the girl and the baby, his heart drumming into the ground.
Petari pulled the baby into the crook of her arm and inspected the chubby arms and legs. The bees showed me now that Arrow had placed mulched malva leaves on the baby’s skin. Petari’s fingers rubbed at them, and a quizzical frown etched into her forehead.
“Then how…?”
Arrow smiled and backed away, out from under the fern and into the trees behind, where Curly was waiting.
Suddenly Petari glanced up, out. Her eyes darted between the bushes. Explored the forest to the south. Looking for someone who could have given this gift.
Looking for Arrow.
8
DEEP IN THE EAST OF THE FOREST, THE YOUNGEST SLOTH REACHED FOR A SHINY, NEW LEAF ON A CECROPIA TREE. IT WAS GREEN, BRIGHT, AND LOOKED DELICIOUS. BUT JUST AS THE SLOTH’S NAILS TOUCHED THE LEAF, IT DRIED UP AND BLEW AWAY, LEAVING THE SLOTH’S BELLY RUMBLING.
It was getting dark by the time Arrow and Curly strolled back to me, but I didn’t need the sight from the ants to know the boy was pleased with himself. Every one of his steps held a smile within it.
“You are proud of yourself,” I said as he and Curly jumped into the nest, pulling a hammock of berries and nuts they’d collected onto his lap.
“Yes, I am.” Arrow grinned as he handed Curly a palm nut. “It’s just a few malva leaves. I think we can spare them.”
“Aren’t you scared they will find you?” I asked, as he laughed at his joke.
“No one knows I was there. I am light as a feather. Quick as a hummingbird. As invisible as the wind.” He giggled around the acai berry he was chewing.
“Is that so?” In that moment, I was jealous of the human ability to sigh.
Arrow swallowed. “I just wanted to help that baby. She… She’s like me.” He glanced at the pointed end of his arm.
“Is that why you helped her?”
“No.” But he was too quick to answer. He paused, holding another acai berry in front of his lips. “I don’t know. Maybe it was. But she’s sick and she was crying. I didn’t want her to be in pain.”
“You are kindhearted, Arrow. It’s a good thing. But you must be cautious with the human herd. They are not like us. You understand?”
He nodded, pulling an almond out of its shell. “Yes. Okay.” He was getting frustrated with my constant reminders, but we couldn’t let down our guard. I had been scanning the air for the telltale tum, tum, tum of the return of the Kiskadee Man. So far there had been nothing, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t come back. Still, I knew Arrow needed a break, so I changed the topic to something he would enjoy telling me.
“How did you get Curly to distract them?”
Arrow laughed again. “I reminded her about the time I plucked the stinging caterpillar off her and got stung. She had to help me after that.”
Curly slapped Arrow’s hand, knocking out the berry he had just picked up, then popped it into her own mouth with a satisfied smirk.
Arrow was perhaps too smart for his own good. “The girl, the one they call Petari, she could tell the others that someone was there. They could come after you.”
“Has she?” he asked, playing tug with Curly over the last banana.
“Not yet, but it’s early. Arrow, you know what could happen if humans come farther in before we mend the Anima. We must protect the forest.”
“I know. I know. It’s just…”
“What?”
Arrow released the banana to Curly, then lay back in his nest. “They’re not like I thought they’d be.” Curly scampered to a higher branch, chittering in delight that she had won.
“What do you mean?”
“They’re happy and friendly. They’re like…” He paused, as though he were deciding on the right word. Finally he whispered, “A family.”
A longing spilled from him as he said the word, but he swallowed it down.
“They might look happy and friendly,” I told him, “but the jaguars look soft and cuddly before they eat you. Don’t forget what the humans did to you. Don’t forget what they can do to the forest.”
“I know. I know.” He turned onto his side. Finished with her banana, Curly climbed on top of Arrow’s head and picked at dirt in his hair. “They won’t come this way. I made sure of that.”
“Thickening the brush was a good idea, but it will not keep them out for too long.”
Arrow smiled. “That’s why I put a horde of stink bugs in the leaves and some fruit for them to eat so they’ll stay. If the humans disturb any of them, there’s going to be a horrible smell.”
Arrow yawned, his eyes closing, ready for the welcoming arms of sleep.
“Smart boy,” I said, my leaves fluttering at the thought of the herd’s reaction. “Thank you. Tomorrow we’ll do whatever we must to mend the Anima, then hide before they even know we’re here.”
Arrow nodded and snuggled into his nest, but it took many breaths before sleep was able to hug him. Emotions rolled off him in waves: excitement, confusion, doubt, fear. It wasn’t until Curly pulled Arrow’s tightly held arms apart and curled up next to him that the boy began to relax and allow sleep to sweep him away.
As they slept, I kept guard over the forest. I gave nutrients to help other plants where I could. I shrunk the tears I could find in the curtain and hoped it would hold. And I kept watch of the human herd. They huddled in the biggest hut again, carrying their food inside with them, as though worried it might be taken in the dark of night, and placing their trap around the hut door. Their precaution was wise. The forest animals were staying clear of the newcomers in the light of day, but the braver monkeys might’ve snuck in for an easy meal while none of the humans were around.
But no animals visited the village as the moon watched. They had not yet decided whether they could trust these two-legged visitors. And when the moon was replaced by the sun, the humans awoke with renewed enthusiasm for their newfound home. Luco emerged from the hut first, pulling away the metal vine and scanning for predators. Once he’d stepped outside, though, the rest of the herd ran out with screams and hollers.
If only Arrow had put stink bugs inside the huts, too. Then, maybe, the herd would’ve run screaming for their old, dry world.
Petari not only seemed secure in the village—she seemed eager to discover more. Too eager. Holding the baby closely, Petari kept scanning the trees to the south, where Arrow had disappeared. Had she seen him run off the day before? Could she tell his direction? I hoped that if she did go looking, the stink bugs would do their job.
It didn’t take long before her curiosity became a flood she could no longer ignore. As Arrow and Curly sat near my roots, spitting the seeds of their passion fruit breakfast at each other, Petari carried Ruthie to Luco and Storma, who were passing out pieces of food.
“So no one did anything to help Ruthie yesterday, right? No one’s going to own up to it?” She stood with one hip stuck out as a ledge for the now-smiling baby.
Her questions received silence, until Luco said, “You know what they say about gift horses,” and that made the others laugh.
“I’m serious. Doesn’t anyone think it’s strange that she had some kind of mucky paste on her and suddenly got better?”
Val watched her but didn’t respond.
“She probably got it on her when we came in.” Luco shrugged, handing Delora a dry square they had brought from the outside world. “All kinds of stuff was coming off those trees. I’m surprised no one picked up anything poisonous.”
�
�There’s poisonous stuff in here?” asked a younger girl as wide-eyed as a lemur.
“Could be,” Storma said, making her voice deeper for effect. She lifted her arms like claws and hunched over the child. “That’s why you must stay away from the trees.”
I liked her thinking.
“Don’t tease Faive.” Luco turned to another girl who was laughing close by. She must’ve been between Storma’s and Arrow’s rings and had a long thin nose like the giant anteater. “Safa, keep Faive busy, will you?”
“I’m helping Storma,” the thin-nosed girl, Safa, said. But after Storma gave her a tight nod, Safa huffed, then led the young Faive away.
“This is important,” Petari said, shifting the baby on her hip. “I think someone else lives here and they helped Ruthie yesterday.”
I sucked air into my leaves, waiting for their answer. Some of the others giggled, but Storma silenced them with a hiss like an anaconda. She glanced around at the trees bordering the village’s savanna, as did Luco.
“The only problem with your theory,” Storma said, as she brought her own dry square of food to her mouth, “is that if someone else was in this forest, they would not help us.”
“Yeah,” said Mercou. “You think people in the forest will be any different from the Barbs?”
Anger radiated from Petari. “There are some good people in the Barbs. Maybe they’re here, too. We can get their help.”
Storma stood taller then. “No one helps us. That’s why we’re here. And if there is someone else in this forest, we need to stay far away from them. They’ll be just like everyone else in the Barbs and the Stilts. They won’t want us here any more than we want them.”
“But—” Petari began, but Luco interrupted.
“Your job is to take care of Ruthie. We’ll worry about other groups.”
“But I—”
“She’ll take care of Ruthie.” Val hurried up to his sister. “Won’t you, Petari?” He spat out the last words as though each had its own muscle.
“Thanks,” Luco said, as Val spun his sister away from the older children.
Then Luco turned back to Storma and spoke in a lowered voice. “I’ll set up watches. Maybe we should have someone on the trail in case other groups have found that hole in the rock.”
Arrow Page 5