The Legend of Thunderfoot
Page 9
Thunder gave a snort and started to his feet. “I’m gonna put an end to it, right now. I’m gonna—”
Berland reached out and put his foot on top of Thunder’s. “Please don’t.”
In the fourteen seasons Thunder had known the old tortoise, he had never asked. He always told. This time his voice was soft—almost pleading. Even the touch of his foot on Thunder’s big toes was tender.
Silently. Slowly. The roadrunner settled behind the mesquite trunk to sit beside his old friend. “Why not?” he wondered.
“We all need heroes,” Berland offered with a gentle smile. “What would this old world be like without legends and folk tales and . . . heroes?”
Thunder took a deep breath and sighed. “But flying beyond the moon and the sun and the stars—that’s stupid. It can’t be done. It makes me sound bigger than life. All those things . . . all the stuff the father told those kids . . . it’s just impossible.”
Berland stretched his neck so far out his nose almost touched Thunder’s beak. “The truth is even more impossible. You and Tripsalot have been together for fourteen seasons. Most roadrunners live only between six and eight. You are no giant. You never were. You’re just an ordinary roadrunner. Well . . . ordinary except for those big feet. You had trouble walking, running, and you couldn’t fly worth a flip. Every time I asked you, suggested to you, or even told you to do something, the only response I ever got was ‘I can’t.’
“Now, even at your age, you run like the wind. You taught your mate about the rocks. How many roadrunners do you know who chase coyotes or drop rocks on bobcats? It’s impossible. It can’t be done. Right?
“If they knew the truth—the whole story—every time a young roadrunner said, ‘I can’t,’ his parents would wash his mouth out with Stink Bug juice. ‘I can’t’ would be like bad words.
“Let the roadrunner tell the legend. Let the roadrunner children listen and pass it on to their children. Let them keep their hope, their belief . . . their hero.”
• • •
“Now that you have heard the Legend of Thunderfoot,” the proud father roadrunner announced, “It is time for The Naming.
“When your mother and I say, ‘Go!’ you will race into the desert, find food, and bring it back to show us. We will watch. When you return, a name will be given.
“Ready. Set . . .”
• • •
Thunder and Berland watched as, each in turn, the three young roadrunners raced off into the desert. With their parents watching, facing the other direction, it was the perfect time for the old friends to slip from their hiding place and head back to their valley. They waited until they were far from the roadrunner family before they spoke.
“How is Tripsalot, anyway?” Berland asked.
“She’s doing fine. I’m not sure about me, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I left her sitting on our eggs.” Thunder flinched. “I told her I was going with you for a little while. Didn’t know we were going to be gone all night.”
Berland smiled back over his shell. “Kid’s still got a temper, huh?”
“Boy, does she!” Thunder nodded. “I’m surprised I’ve got any tail feathers left—the way she’s always chewin’ on my rear end.”
“Why don’t you go on ahead,” Berland suggested. “I’ll catch up after a while.”
Thunder smiled back at him. “No. Think I’ll stay with you. Haven’t seen you in a couple of full moons. Got some visiting to catch up on. Besides, I think she enjoys fussing at me. Gives her something to do.”
Berland stopped and gave a little chuckle. “If she gets too mad, we’ll just tell her the Legend of Thunderfoot. Surely she won’t chew the tail feathers off a living legend.”
Thunder laughed. “With her temper? Don’t count on it.”
About the Author
BILL WALLACE is the author of several beloved books for young readers, including A Dog Called Kitty, Snot Stew, Goosed!, and No Dogs Allowed!. He has won twenty state awards, as well as the Arrell Gibson Lifetime Achievement Award for Children’s Literature from the Oklahoma Center for the Book.
A former classroom teacher, principal, and physical education teacher, he is now a full-time author and public speaker. He lives in Chickasha, Oklahoma, with his wife and sometime writing partner, Carol.
Aladdin
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2006 by Bill Wallace
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ISBN 978-1-4169-0691-9 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4169-0692-6 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-4814-3149-1 (eBook)