by Tracey Hecht
“I don’t know…if this…is such a good…idea,” Tobin uttered between coughs. He stopped to catch his breath.
“Just a little farther,” Dawn insisted.
Tobin wiped his watery eyes and inspected his tired paws. They were rubbed raw. “Just follow the white of Dawn’s tail,” he said to himself.
But this proved quite difficult. As Tobin climbed higher and higher, the wind grew stronger, whipping across his scales and stinging his face. Spirals of gray sand and dirt swirled through the air, blinding him. At times, his friends disappeared from view, completely lost in the shadowy wind, and the pangolin had to pause and wait for the flicker of Dawn’s white tail to re-emerge.
Finally, the climbers stopped.
“Over here,” called the fox. She was perched on a pointed ledge that stuck out over the slope.
“Oh, thank goodness,” gasped Tobin. With a series of grunts, the pangolin clambered up the last stretch of stone and heaved himself up on the ledge, tumbling over its rim in a clumsy heap.
“See?” said the fox. “From this height, we have a good view.”
“Absolutamente,” agreed Bismark, batting his eyes at the fox.
Tobin peered over the edge and grew dizzy. Quickly, he rose to all fours and scuttled as far back as possible. “I didn’t realize we’d climbed so high,” he gasped. The pangolin pressed his body against the stony gray wall of the mountain and attempted to steady his breath. His heart was pounding.
“Don’t worry,” Dawn said. The fox was fearlessly perched at the rim of the ledge, and she squinted toward the horizon. “Just keep your eyes peeled for anything unusual or for a sign of the beast.”
But Tobin’s chest remained tight. He had been concentrating so hard on walking up the steep mountain and keeping his balance that he had nearly forgotten why they were there. Yes, he had survived the treacherous climb, and he was beginning to feel steady on the ledge, but what was next? Would they spot this strange, evil creature? And what would happen if they did? A shiver ran down his spine. Perhaps the worst was yet to come.
Chapter Eight
THE FORTRESS
Mustering his last bit of courage, Tobin crept toward the fox, who still remained standing on the edge of the ledge. His paws trembled and his scales quivered. Images of a gigantic monster ripping its way through the land tore through his mind.
But when Tobin inched next to Dawn and squinted into the distance, he saw no such sight. In fact, except for the crater—which looked much smaller from here—there was nothing to see at all. There was no movement. No color. No life. With its thick coat of ash and sparse sprinkling of trees, the land looked still and gray. The area resembled a dark, forgotten graveyard. Even though it was a bleak view, Tobin exhaled a sigh of relief.
“Let’s look on the other side,” Dawn said. Moving carefully, she walked along the ledge, which circled the mountain. Bismark rode on her back, and Tobin followed, staying as far from the edge as possible.
“Bismark,” Dawn said, “do you see anything here?”
“Just the bright bushy tail of my one true love.” He swooned.
The fox glanced over her shoulder. Her brow furrowed with disapproval. “Other way, Bismark,” she chided.
The sugar glider replied with an innocent shrug.
“Wait a moment,” said Tobin, “I think I see something after all. There, on the ground.” The pangolin craned his short, armored neck and rubbed his small, dark eyes.
Immediately, the fox spun back and followed her friend’s gaze. “It looks like a mound of rocks,” she said.
“Oh goodness.” Tobin sighed. “That’s not very unusual or helpful. I’m sorry.”
Dawn narrowed her keen, amber eyes. Something appeared a bit strange. The rocks weren’t exactly a mound—they were stacked upon one another, forming more of a tower. It was circular in shape—about the height of a tree, but wider. And though it looked hollow, the opening on top was partially blocked, as if someone had scattered sticks over it.
“What is it, my sweet?” asked Bismark. “What do your lovely, amber eyes behold?”
“I’m not sure,” murmured Dawn. “It almost looks like … a fortress.”
“What?” The sugar glider squeezed between his two friends. “Let me see.”
The Brigade-mates peered down.
“I don’t know,” Tobin said. A deep rumble rose from his belly. The pangolin was always hungry for a tasty snack, and it felt like ages since he had last eaten. “From this height, the rocks just look like beetles.” He paused. “Or ants, dipped in a little bit of honey.” He licked his lips as his thoughts turned completely to food. He closed his eyes. Visions of tender termites danced in his head.
Following his nose, Tobin wandered off to the side in search of a juicy morsel. Those two don’t need me now anyway, he thought. My eyesight is too poor to be of any real use. And I’ll be much more alert when my tummy is full. Tobin nodded, convincing himself. He climbed down onto a lower ledge and began to explore it. “I’ll go back once I sniff out a tasty snack.”
Then he stopped. His imaginary feast was interrupted by a strange noise from above—a crackling of sorts. It sounded like sparks shooting out of a fire. The pangolin cocked his head. The sound grew louder, heavier, closer, until it rang like thunder in his ears. He looked up. A dark wave of rocks was tumbling right toward him, crushing all that stood in its path. Tobin froze in fear.
“Tobin! Watch out!” Dawn’s shrill cry jolted the paralyzed pangolin.
Frantically, he scrambled back toward his friends. He took a running jump and clawed his way up to where Dawn and Bismark were standing. Gasping and panting, Tobin turned his head to see the rockslide smash the spot where he’d stood just moments before.
“Are you all right?” asked the fox. She bent over her friend with concern.
“Are you kidding?” cried Bismark. “He’s more than all right… he’s magnifico!” The sugar glider gave Tobin a firm pat on the back. “We should give you a nickname to honor your newfound speed. Perhaps speedy-scales, crazy-claws, zippety-zoo!”
“Oh goodness,” gasped Tobin, finally recovering his breath. “That rockslide came out of nowhere!”
Dawn narrowed her eyes and stood tall. “Yes,” she murmured. Her voice was tinged with suspicion. “It certainly did.”
Chapter Nine
THE SUSPECT
“By all that glides!” shouted Bismark, pacing back and forth. “It was the beast! We have experienced his rage firsthand!”
Tobin’s eyes widened. “Oh goodness!” he cried. “Have we angered it by coming up here?”
“I have no doubt he wants us gone, amigo! Word in the woods is that this beast fellow gets territorial!”
“Bismark,” said Dawn, “what are you talking about? There is no ‘word.’”
“Potato, potahto. Pomelo, pomahlo.” Bismark waved his paw. “Point is, that’s one bad beast. Our friend Polywollydingdong was right.”
“Polyphema,” said Dawn with a sigh.
“Yes, right, that’s what I said.”
Dawn held up her paw to shush Bismark. “We still haven’t seen the beast. Don’t you think that’s a little odd if he’s a giant?”
Bismark scratched his bald spot. “Do you need to see the air to know it’s there, mon amour? Do you need to see my love to know it exists?”
Dawn paced toward the rim of the ledge and narrowed her almond-shaped eyes. She surveyed the expanse of dark dust below. Then she gazed at the jagged rocks perched above. “No,” she began, “but—”
“But nada, my darling! I know you and Tutu aren’t the bestest of friends, but I see no evidence to prove her wrong!” Bismark stood tall and punched a small fist in the air. “I object to your objection!”
Dawn looked again at the barren, gray landscape then thoughtfully scanned the horizon. “What if it was her?” she asked suddenly. “What if Polyphema caused the rockslide herself?”
Tobin glanced at his leader. “I… I was sure
it was the beast,” he stammered. “Those rocks came so fast.”
“It was definitely the beast!” Bismark insisted. He clicked his tongue at Dawn. “Why are you so anti-Tutu? Hmm?” Bismark patted Dawn’s paw. “I hate to say it, my love, but your jealousy has clouded your judgment. That reptile Poly… Poly…”
“Polyphema?” said Tobin.
“Yes, si, whatever.” Bismark cleared his throat. “Our new friend’s third eye is quite a remarkable feature, and I’m sure she has mucho talent for seeing the future, but the rocks? Impossible! How would she have arrived here in time?” The sugar glider shook his small head. “No, no, no. Her legs are far too stumpy to move that fast. In fact, they’re not so unlike those of our favorite pangolin.” Bismark tilted his head toward Tobin.
Dawn shrugged her shoulders.
“Come!” The sugar glider spun on his heel. “We must track down the culprit! I’ll tackle him myself if I have to!” Bismark flexed his scrawny biceps then led them back around the mountain so that they looked out over the crater. Nearing the edge, he eyed the monstrous print at the bottom of the enormous hole. Though it seemed quite small from this height, he remembered how large it was up close. He gulped. “I shall still be victorious,” he murmured. “Size and strength are no match for pure genius!”
Tobin turned to face Dawn. Her expression remained skeptical. “Bismark has a point,” he said meekly. “You know, not about his genius, but about the beast. And Polyphema did warn us.”
Dawn looked to her friend and considered his words.
“That rockslide scared me,” Tobin continued, his beady eyes wide with fright. “I’m not as brave as you are. I’m afraid of the beast.”
The fox nodded. The rockslide could have been the work of the beast. It was possible. “You’re right,” Dawn said softly.
Tobin’s expression turned hopeful. “So we’ll go back to Polyphema and talk to her?”
Dawn gazed at the blurry horizon. Then she noticed a small figure near the edge of the crater. It was Polyphema, who seemed to be waiting for them. “Yes,” she replied. Her taut muscles slightly relaxed. “The tuatara may be right after all.”
Chapter Ten
A CLEVER PLAN
“We’re baaaa-aaaaack!” With a somersault and a leap, Bismark barreled back toward the crater where Polyphema still stood. “Did you miss me, dear Tutu? Yes, oui, of course you did—how could you not?”
“I thought you might be back soon,” she replied. Her lips curled in a slight grin. “I believe you need my assistance?”
“Oh goodness, yes,” replied Tobin. He trudged up behind Bismark and glanced over his shoulder. “I’m afraid we’ve angered the beast.”
“Are you all right?” asked Polyphema, taking a step toward the pangolin.
Bismark quickly hopped between them, flaps outspread. “What about moi? I know I appear strong—almighty, some might say—but even the magnificent sugar glider is not invincible.”
The tuatara cocked her head. “I don’t see any injuries.”
“Well, I could have been injured,” Bismark muttered, turning away.
“And how are you, Tobin?” Polyphema looked the pangolin up and down. “Were you struck by the rocks?”
“Wait a moment,” said Dawn. “We never mentioned the rocks.” The fox stepped in front of Tobin protectively. “I was right,” she snarled. “You know what happened. You were there!”
“Yes, of course, I know what happened,” replied Polyphema. “But I wasn’t there.” The tuatara lowered her face, exposing the top of her head. “Have you forgotten, fox? I see all.” The scales on her scalp parted, revealing her milky third eye.
Dawn’s triumphant expression grew dim, but she still growled below her breath.
Bismark scurried between the two females, placing a paw against each. “Let’s focus on slaying the beast, not each other, oui?”
“I already told you,” said Polyphema. “The beast won’t strike if we clear the area. You have no other choice. He is too big to slay. Too smart to trap.”
“And I already told you,” replied Dawn, “that that will never happen. We will not banish our friends.”
“Trap,” murmured Bismark. The sugar glider, who still had a paw on each female, suddenly threw up his flaps. “Tutu, that’s it!” he cried. “We can trap the beast. And I know just how to do it. It is genius, foolproof, magnifico!”
“Trap it?” Tobin said with a tremble.
“That sounds dangerous,” said the fox. “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea.”
“But I do! I know!” Bismark insisted. The sugar glider’s face lit up. “Listen, my friends. Écoutez. First, we collect all the vines we can find. Then we weave them together so they hold nice and tight. Like so.” The sugar glider hugged the fox to show what he meant before she quickly shook him off.
“Right,” he continued, dusting his coat. “As I was saying, we weave the vines until we have a giant net, then we cast it over a hole. In this case,” he gestured behind him, “that crater.”
Tobin cocked his head. “Then what?”
“Then comes the fun part,” said Bismark, his eyes flickering with mischief. “You see, the net will look natural. Once we cover it with ash, that is. So all we have to do is lure the beast onto it.” Bismark shot a wink at his audience. “And then: Boom! Bam! Splat! The beast falls into the giant hole in the earth and we have him!” The sugar glider struck a triumphant pose, legs wide, paws on hips.
Dawn walked toward the deep, ragged crater and studied the size of it. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “It doesn’t seem practical. In order to cover this hole and make sure that the beast stays trapped, our net would need to be enormous. We would need a huge number of vines, and it would take lots of hard work.”
“No problemo,” replied Bismark, casually waving a flap. He coughed at the dust it stirred up. “There are plenty of vines around here.”
The Brigade eyed the landscape, gray and barren. Dotted here and there were the taller piles of ash that marked what was left of the plants.
“Well…there’s some over there, at least.” He gestured toward a far-off cluster of trees and shrubs with long, trailing stems. “And as for the work?” Bismark extended his paws before him, rubbed them against one another, and fixed his gaze on the fox. “’T’is nothing for these skillful paws. Strong, nimble, quick—yet gentle as well, I might add.”
“I don’t know,” Dawn repeated.
Polyphema stepped to her side and nodded. “I agree. The plan will simply not work.” The tuatara extended her neck so its creases stretched flat. Her scales shone in the moonlight. “Don’t get me wrong, Bismark—it’s clever, really. But the beast will not be so easily lured to his doom.”
“Bah! And how would you know?”
Polyphema crept to the edge of the crater. “I know the beast well….” She paused. “I know how he thinks.” The tuatara narrowed her eyes at the deep hole in the earth and the shape of the beast below. “He won’t trust any bait you set for him, believe me.”
With a deep bow, Bismark offered the tuatara his paw. “Then you must be a part of our scheme, Tutu-tata. Since you know him so well, you can be the one to draw the beast into the trap! He will trust you, no?”
Polyphema’s tail flicked behind her. Her jaw was clenched.
“What is it, amiga? Are you worried about luring the beast?” The sugar glider threw an arm over the tuatara’s back. “Oof!” Feeling the poke of her spikes, he recoiled in pain. “Do not worry, Poly-pee…Poly-poo…Poly…who?” Bismark scratched at his bald spot then started again. “Do not worry, Tutu. If you need any lessons on how to charm and command, you can ask me—the maestro himself!”
Polyphema stood still, lost in thought. Though her third eye remained shut, the scales on her head seemed to pulse, as if, even while hidden, the pale, white orb was at work. “Very well,” she whispered at last. Amidst the moans of the wind, her voice sounded hollow and low. “I have seen a future where this plan
succeeds.”
“Woo-hoo!” yodeled Bismark. “This is the stuff of legends, amigos. For ages to come, animals will tell the tale of the brave Brigade’s brilliant victory over the big, brutal beast of the night! That is, if we have our lovely leader’s approval.” He looked sideways at Dawn.
The fox took a deep breath. She knew that they might be facing great danger, and every moment they wasted in discussing this was a moment they could be doing something to stop the beast. It was already midnight, and at least Bismark had a plan.
Dawn nodded her head. “Let’s do it,” she said. “It’s our only hope.”
Bismark’s bulbous eyes gleamed with excitement. “It’s decided then!” he exclaimed, hopping atop a small rock. With his chin toward the sky and his cape shining bright, he punched his small fist in the air. “The Nocturnal Brigade traps the beast!”
Chapter Eleven
BEYOND THE WALL
“This net is going to be huge!” yelped Bismark. “Massive! Giant! Humongous!” Bismark was excited. But, suddenly, his eagerness turned into panic when he realized the enormous job that they faced. “Ay, ay, ay! We need help!” he cried, and he toppled off of his rock.
“Yes,” said the fox. “Let’s gather the animals of the valley. We need as many workers and as many vines as possible.”
“Get help?” Polyphema tightened her claws. “I told you—the beast wants the area clear! You can’t bring more animals here! It’s too dangerous. We must do this ourselves.”
“Well, si, I could do all the heavy lifting myself, of course.” Bismark puffed out his chest and flexed both his arms.
“I don’t understand,” murmured Dawn. “If this beast is as dangerous as you say…”
“… then we need to move fast!” finished Tobin.
The tuatara’s eyes flashed with fear. “But—”
“My amigos are right,” Bismark said, cutting off Polyphema. “We need as many helpers as possible. Plus—” Bismark mischievously stroked his chin, “—I do enjoy bossing around those jerboas….”