Vagabonds

by Darcy Pattison

  Rafael stepped on Galen’s tail.

  “Ow!” Galen yelled.

  “Sorry, sorry,” mumbled Rafael.

  Victor looked around a boulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing!” Galen snapped, and then wondered why he was mad. He didn’t want to hide Rafael’s problems. But he didn’t want Victor criticizing his brother, either. To Rafael, he whispered kindly, “You have to show you can keep up.”

  Rafael didn’t answer, but he did stay closer than ever to Galen.

  Galen concentrated on threading through the maze of boulders. The near-quarter moon was setting. To make it easier for Rafael, Galen found ways around the large limestone blocks. They squeezed through narrow passages. Only once was Galen forced to ask Victor’s help in getting Rafael over a large stone. While helping, Victor was extra-polite. After the boulders, they moved quicker following the creek until it reached the main stream. The cool black before dawn was upon them.

  Galen wondered if Victor would take them north toward Long Pool or south back to the Great Clearing.

  Rafael blundered into the shallows and greedily drank. He raised his head and said, “Fresh water. In the valley, everything tasted awful.”

  The comment worried Galen: he hadn’t been with Rafael from the start, so had no way to judge how he was changing. The valley’s pool had been fed by the waterfall, so it hadn’t been bad. Rafael’s head injury must have affected his taste. Perhaps everything tasted bad right after the accident, but his head was healing, so maybe he was tasting things more accurately. Perhaps, there was hope that Rafael’s sight would return, too. There was just no way to know.

  “Hoo! You found Rafael!” Blaze flew in and landed beside Corrie.

  “Yes,” Galen said. “Did you find Long Pool?”

  “It’s half a night’s travel from here,” Blaze said. “Hoo! Will you go now? Or sleep for the day? Or will you take Rafael back to the Great Clearing?”

  Victor said, “We’ll decide tomorrow night. For now, we’ll eat and sleep. You can roost if you want.”

  Blaze dipped her head and clicked her tongue. “I will find you at sunset.” She flapped once, then glided to a nearby pine, and side stepped into the shadows.

  Rafael stumbled out of the stream with his nose lifted, sniffing. “Hmmm,” he sighed. “Roses.”

  Still holding his nose high, he trotted toward a patch of briars. It was a wild rose, mostly full of buds, but with a few early flowers in full bloom. Galen watched his brother’s detour with an increasing sense of doom. He wasn’t sure how Rafael avoided the thorns, but he plucked a blush-pink rose.

  Galen asked, “What’s that for?”

  “Mother,” Rafael mumbled. He said more, but with the rose in his mouth, Galen couldn’t understand. Rafael began to hum another ballad.

  Later, Galen would tell Rafael about their parents’ death. Not yet. Rafael needed to go back to Felix’s den. He wasn’t in shape—physically, or especially, mentally—to go on. But how could they return without searching for the Falls?

  The curse, the yearning to move northward, threatened to smother Galen. He gasped, gulping in air. He took up the argument again. “Rafael sings the Turi’s song.”

  Victor spat. “You would risk everything? For that song?”

  Galen’s stomach burned, like the world itself was spinning within him. When did simple wishes become so complicated? He wished Rafael was healed. He wished the Sisters would never have to trek. He wished he could be part of finding the Faralone Falls. He wished to be rid of the curse, which pulled him northward when his brother needed to go south. “No, I would risk everything for my Sisters. For our people.”

  Rafael chanted, “We will find the Turi’s cave.”

  Corrie had been smelling a rose, but at Rafael’s words, she spun around. “Did you hear him?”

  “Of course,” Victor snapped.

  “No. You didn’t hear him,” Corrie insisted. She marched to Rafael’s side and stared. “Or you didn’t understand.”

  Victor and Galen looked at each other. Galen shrugged.

  Corrie explained patiently, “Cave. He said Turi’s cave.”

  Comprehension dawned in Galen. All they’d heard about was the Faralone Falls. No one had ever mentioned a cave. Could Rafael’s song really be a map-song that would lead to the Faralone Falls and a Turi’s cave? A cave! His heart beat a staccato of joy.

  “You need me,” Rafael said. Then his lopsided face broke into a huge smile.

  “Can you find the Turi’s cave?” Corrie asked.

  “She sang in the moonlight,” Rafael repeated.

  The trees were becoming more distinct in the growing dawn. Victor yawned and tried to head off more discussion. “We need to find a den for the day.”

  .

  SEARCH FOR THE FALLS

  Though Victor said he wanted to look for a den for the day, Corrie and Galen couldn’t turn loose of the argument about what to do next. They argued while the sun spread a coral glow over the eastern sky.

  In due course, as the arguments continued, the fat, round sun rose majestically over the hills. Deep red-orange—the sun wore her most brilliant color for this sunrise.

  Suddenly, Corrie looked around. “Where’s Rafael?”

  Irritably, Victor blinked his dry eyes: he needed sleep. Instead, the crazy armadillo had wandered off, and they’d have to search.

  Galen called, “Rafael!”

  Victor watched Galen rush madly about searching under a bush, behind a tree, calling repeatedly for his brother. That kind of haphazard search wouldn’t locate Rafael. Blaze might find him, but Victor hated to ask for the owl’s help once she had gone to roost for the day. Noticing a rock about three times his height, Victor climbed its sloping sides. From this vantage, he looked around. Bright light filled the woods, sparkled off the water, hurting his eyes. Daylight was full upon them, and Victor longed for a den deep enough to hide from the summer sun.

  Galen and Corrie still searched the bushes.

  “How could he get far?” Galen protested. “He’s blind.”

  Victor spied a rose petal and visually followed a trail of petals into a thicket twenty yards away. He clambered from the rock and motioned to Corrie to follow.

  At the sight of the first rose petal, she cried out, “Oh!”

  “What?” Galen bounded to her side.

  “Look!” she said.

  “Roses! Where is he?”

  With Victor leading, they followed the rose trail into the thicket. Their tough armor protected them from the rose thorns. In the shadows, Victor sighed in relief. The day was already threatening to be hot.

  Stopping to let their eyes adjust to the dimness, Galen sneezed. “Dirt! He’s digging again.”

  A grimy nose and sightless eyes popped over the edge of a dirt mound.

  “Rafael, why are you digging?” Galen asked. “Are you trying to find the Turi?”

  “No. The Turi was in the valley, not here. I only dug a home for the day,” Rafael mumbled. “We seek a new home, right?” He came out and gestured for them to look.

  Corrie entered and came out with wide, round eyes. “You have to see this.”

  Victor scrambled down a tunnel that went a foot below the surface before it spread out in an area that would comfortably hold the three of them. No other armadillo could have dug a den this large in so short a time. It was perfectly situated, too, so no sunshine would bother their sleep. How had the blind armadillo managed it? He was a digger!

  Victor hadn’t realized how much he missed sleeping in a comfortable den. At home, his main den had been passed from first son to first son for ten generations. It was deep and cool with spacious chambers. Thinking back on it, he remembered the crickets. Back home in Texas, dens of any substantial size and age were populated year round with camel crickets. Victor missed them scurrying on the roof of this bed chamber; he missed their chirping lullaby. The longing induced by the curse filled him absolutely, and this time, he thought, surely it
would break his resolve. A wave of homesickness swept through him leaving him nauseous. Gulping, he rode it out. Another wave swept through him making it hard to think of anything except going home. Only his strength of will let him hold out. Finally, it eased. The effects of the curse were getting worse the longer he stayed away, the farther he went. One day, it would either drive him mad or take his very breath away.

  Shaking, Victor crawled out and noticed with satisfaction that Galen and Corrie had waited patiently for his verdict. They hadn’t seen his moment of weakness. Victor spoke, though, to Rafael: “We’ll sleep here tonight. Rafael, if you dig a den like that every night, you can travel with us.”

  Rafael nodded happily. “We seek a home.” Then, he trotted out of the shrubs.

  “What are you doing?” Galen called.

  Rafael was back a moment later with several roses in his mouth. “To make it smell like home,” he said.

  He carried the roses underground, and Corrie followed.

  Galen lingered at the entrance. He cocked his head to one side and studied Victor.

  The words came unbidden, in a voice that surprised Victor with its tremble: “The Ballad of Faralone Falls?”

  “Yes.” Galen’s voice was rock solid.

  Victor regained his composure and matched Galen’s determined voice. “We risk everything?”

  Galen emphasized every word. “We must not fail.”

  Victor nodded decisively, and Galen returned the nod. The decision was made: instead of returning Rafael, instead of concentrating on finding the missing trekkers, they would search for the Faralone Falls.

  .

  LONG POOL

  About moonrise the next evening, the armadillo band came to Long Pool, where Galen gazed around in awe. A limestone cliff rose hundreds of feet above them. At its base, water stretched into a deep, placid pool, a watering hole for animals from miles around. Across from the cliff a gravel bar gleamed palely under the quarter moon. A light wind blew downstream, rippling the reflections of the sweet gums across the water’s surface and wrinkling Galen’s own reflection. The wavering image mirrored Galen’s uncertainty about their decision to push forward. Was it wise?

  Victor led them several hundred feet back downstream and halted under the drooping branches of a willow. “We’re downwind. Stay out of sight. We’ll see who comes to drink. We need information about where to go next.”

  Galen found a dusty spot and lay with his head stretched over his front legs, while Blaze flew off to hunt. Galen made Rafael rest beside him. Galen was surprised that he had accepted Rafael’s blindness so quickly. Maybe it was two things. First, Rafael said he wasn’t really blind, but had double vision. To Galen, it sounded mysterious, even exciting. It left Rafael acting blind, but the distinction eased Galen’s grief and even made him slightly jealous. Silly, of course, to be jealous of a blind armadillo, but Galen wished he could see the Turi, too.

  But secondly, the trekking life was dangerous and they all accepted that: it was a fact of their lives. Rafael was alive and moving and eager to trek on. An injury didn’t remove the curse, so in some ways, it was actually better for Rafael to travel north, instead of going south to the Colony. There was no easy answer for Rafael, and that’s what worried Galen. Any course of action carried consequences that could make Rafael uncomfortable. So far, Rafael had traveled well. He would watch him closely and insist they turn back if traveling made him ill. Meanwhile, they settled in to watch and wait.

  They didn’t wait long for the first animals to appear. A mother possum, carrying babies on her back scampered to the riverbank, leaving star-shaped footprints in the soft mud where she crept out to drink, then scampered back under a shrub.

  Leaves rustling overhead made Galen look up. A squirrel leaped from the willow to a sweet gum. Galen settled back down.

  The wind stopped and the water grew glassy still. A striped skunk waddled down the riverbank toward the gravel bar. Behind marched her four kits. They reminded Galen of his den under the oak with the skunk den nearby. Homesickness stung him and he squirmed, wondering what the Four Sisters were doing.

  Galen wondered if the kits were all boys or all girls. Or did skunk litters have a mixture of boys and girls?

  “No information from her,” Victor whispered.

  Corrie nodded gently.

  The easy camaraderie between Victor and Corrie was good for the search, Galen knew. The trek might take longer if they searched for the Faralone Falls instead of the missing armadillos. Victor had much to learn about leadership, and getting along was a good start. Maybe Victor would even work better with Blaze, too.

  Leaves rustled overhead, but Galen ignored the squirrel. Suddenly, an enormous raccoon dropped right in front of him.

  “Oh!” Galen jerked upright.

  The raccoon held a small, fresh-water mussel in his claws. Bright black eyes inspected Galen.

  “What be ye? T’ain’t raccoons, t’ain’t possums, t’ain’t muskrats, t’ain’t beaver, t’ain’t enythin’ from these here woods. What information be ye wanting?”

  This must be Blaze’s raccoon. Galen hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. He breathed deeply and bowed over a bent front leg. “I am Galen, from the Diego family of armadillos.”

  “I be Gillett the raccoon. Find the crazy ‘dillo, ye did. Will ye be a-taking him home?”

  “Yes, we’ll take him with us,” Galen said. His heart had stopped its frantic beating. “We thank you for telling the barn owl where he was.”

  “The crazy one ye have. Why be ye still in these woods?”

  This raccoon would know the woods, if anyone did, and might have the information they needed. Eagerly, Galen explained, “Kind sir, we follow our hearts and seek a new home which has been shown to us in our dreams. Our people have quested northward for generations, and we believe we are nearing the end of our trek. Can you tell me, do you know of twin waterfalls? Or a single, large waterfall with eagles nearby?”

  By now, Rafael, Corrie and Victor stood at Galen’s shoulder. The raccoon studied each in turn.

  “This here twin waterfalls, iffen ye find it, what will ye do? Are ye invading this our forest, or do ye come in friendship? I ask fer all the peoples of these here valleys.”

  Victor took charge. “Friendship. When we find the large waterfall, we hope to find some trace of our ancestors, the Turis. We hope it’ll tell us where to find a new home. If you have time, we’ll explain more.”

  “Go on,” the raccoon said. He turned his attention to opening the mussel with clever hands, while Victor told the story of Bernardo and Isidoro, then told of their current quest for the home of the ancient Turis. At last, the raccoon grunted. “Good yarn. Too bad I can’t he’p ye. I don’t know of eny twin waterfalls. Lots of eagle nests, though.”

  “Where?” Victor asked eagerly.

  The raccoon shrugged. “Where eagles fly.”

  “Yes, yes,” Victor answered with obvious annoyance. “But where?”

  The raccoon was already climbing the sweet gum. He paused, as if listening to something, then fixed his eyes on a white blob under a high branch. He started upward again.

  Galen squinted at the blob, but the moonlight wasn’t bright enough to distinguish more. “What is it?”

  “Supper,” the raccoon said. He gave the tree trunk a series of hugs as he nimbly climbed. At the high branch, he hung upside down and swung over to the blob. His claws slashed at it, making it swing like a pendulum: back and forth, back and forth. Then it gave way and fell, clipping branches on the way down and smashing on the gravel. The raccoon scrambled after his prize, while hornets streamed out of their broken nest.

  “Run!” Galen shoved Rafael, then gathered his legs under him and stretched out to run as fast as he could. Hornets might not sting his armor, but his face was vulnerable.

  The four armadillos broke cover at the south end of Long Pool, just as the angry hoard of hornets reached them. The mother skunk hissed and stamped her feet, herding her
brood toward the water, trying to keep them all away from the oncoming armadillos and hornets. Victor, Corrie and Rafael bolted behind Galen, all zigzagging in a vain effort to evade the angry hornets. Galen shook one hornet away from his face and looked back.

  The raccoon was methodically picking larvae from the remains of the hornet nest. Though hornets buzzed around him, Galen realized the raccoon’s fur was thick enough to prevent stings, except perhaps on his face, and he was doing a good job of swatting hornets away from his eyes and nose.

  The mother skunk raised her tail, so Galen skidded around the skunk family. Victor had stopped to howl as a hornet stung his shoulder, just under his armor. The mother sprayed, and a concentrated stench caught Victor full in the face. A cloud of musk drifted downstream toward Galen. He dodged around it and circled back to Victor. The mother skunk quickly turned and circled up her kits again. With seething drones, the hornets swooped over the skunks.

  “Into the water.” Though he reeled at the stench, Galen shoved Victor toward the water. Corrie, meanwhile, nudged and guided Rafael. They took deep breaths and sank into the cool water, out of reach of the raging swarm.

  Galen swam powerfully upstream, peeked out, and then swam again. Hornets worried the skunk and her babies, who hissed and squealed. The mother frantically spun around, waving her tail in warning and searching for her kits. The smallest snapped at a hornet, and then squealed as his nose was stung. Other hornets joined the first. In desperation, the kit rolled to its back and swung weakly at the hornets with his front legs. A black mass dove for the kit. Galen noticed that its tail was crooked, just like Number Two’s tail.

  The mother skunk was herding the other kits up the riverbank toward cover, so she didn’t see the hornet attack. Again, the hurt kit squealed. The mother skunk’s head came up and she grunted. Thirty feet separated the mother and her baby, the one with the crooked tail, the Number Two baby. The mother wouldn’t reach the kit before the hornets overwhelmed it.