by Cathy Hapka
Jack rolled his eyes. Why did people think Ty's antics were so funny?
“These sandstorms were nothing, boy,” one of the caravaners, a huge man named Riley, told Ty cheerily. “Not compared to the monster of a storm I saw ten years ago. Barely made it out with me Aepy and me skin intact that time.”
Ty and the other kids jostled closer to the caravaner, shouting, “Tell us more! Tell us more!”
“Well now, we were a day and a half out of Khasra, searching for the mythical Great Oasis of legend, and . . .”
The man went on, spinning one of the typical caravaners' tales of dangerous sandstorms and valuable cargo, but Jack stopped listening. He had heard the story before, as had the other kids. Jack just couldn't understand why they insisted on hearing the same silly adventure tales over and over again. There were so many interesting things to talk about in the world. Why not explore some of them rather than wasting time on tall tales that probably weren't even true?
“It's getting a little noisy around here,” Jack said to Cragnog, his voice a bit louder than he had intended. “Perhaps we should go rest in the ginkgo grove, where we can have some peace. I can't wait to hear about your latest discoveries.”
“As you wish, young friend,” said Cragnog.
CHAPTER 3
Jack led the way to a shady spot beneath the lush branches of an especially large ginkgo. Clustered here and there among the fan-shaped, pale-green leaves were dozens of orange-brown fruits, each about the size and shape of a plum. From a distance they looked good, but the unpleasant smell of the rotten ones on the ground filled the air.
Jack kicked aside several of the smelly fruits that had rotted before they could be gathered; then he lowered himself to the ground at Cragnog's feet. “Stinky things,” he muttered.
Cragnog smiled. “The fruit of the female ginkgo is no treat for the nostrils,” the Pinacosaurus admitted. “However, if not for the seeds of the female trees, the entire species would die out.”
“I know,” Jack said. “You taught me that. They're dioecious. Separate male and female trees are necessary for propagation.”
“Very good.” Cragnog looked pleased that Jack had remembered. “Now, you'll be interested to hear of another dioecious species I saw on my recent travels, a new variety of Leptocycas. . . .”
Jack tried to listen to Cragnog's words, but his mind wandered with each burst of laughter that erupted from the shade canopy. How? wondered Jack. How can I live in the same town as all those kids, drink the same water, eat the same food, and yet be so different from them in every way?
Ty was the most perplexing of all. He spent all his free time goofing off, running around, and playing pointless games with the other kids. He didn't even know the name of Euphorbia horrida, one of the most common plants in his own hometown! And yet . . .
Ty was surrounded with friends everywhere he went, while Jack often felt as though anyone under the age of twenty barely noticed that he existed.
It doesn't matter, Jack told himself firmly, wincing at yet another outburst of loud laughter from the direction of the shade canopy. I wouldn't want to waste my time hanging out with most of those kids anyway.
“. . . and then the biggest cycad pulled up its roots and started dancing the jig with the closest tree fern it could find,” Cragnog stated.
“Huh?” Jack blinked and turned to the Pinacosaurus. “What did you just say?”
Cragnog gazed at him with amusement. “I was wondering if you were listening. Your eyes were as far away as a mature ginkgo's crown is from its roots.”
“Sorry.” Jack scowled, as annoyed with himself as he had ever been with Ty. He had few enough chances to talk with an educated saurian. And here he was wasting the opportunity by fretting over silly Ty Ferris.
“Is something ruffling your scales, young friend?” the Pinacosaurus asked, gazing at Jack kindly.
“Nothing important,” he mumbled, reaching down and sifting a handful of sand through his fingers. “I just don't understand people sometimes.”
Cragnog cocked his head to one side. “People?” he questioned. “Or one person in particular?”
“Just some of the other kids around here.” Jack was almost sorry he'd brought up the topic at all. “It's no big deal, really. They just seem kind of, I don't know, different sometimes.”
“Ah. I see.” Cragnog settled back on his hind legs, looking thoughtful. “Do you mean different as in fascinating and exotic, or different as in peculiar and disturbing?”
Jack shrugged. “Well, they're not exactly exotic,” he mumbled. “Especially Ty.”
“Ty?”
Now Jack was truly sorry he'd mentioned anything. How could he possibly explain Ty to Cragnog?
“He's just this kid my age,” Jack said. “We don't get along that well. What I mean is, we don't have much in common. He's a complete jollyhead. He doesn't care about anything important, and I don't care about the silly games and jokes he makes up all the time.”
Cragnog laughed. “I see. Well, despite their differences, a tiny Compsognathus and the largest Brachiosaurus are both saurians beneath the shell. So, too, you and this Ty fellow are both boys.”
“Uh-huh,” Jack muttered, kicking at a half-rotted ginkgo fruit near his foot. “Sort of the same way an apple and a stinky old ginkgo are both fruits.”
“But that is true,” Cragnog replied patiently. “The ginkgo's edible and nutritious fruits help to feed many people and dinosaurs throughout Dinotopia. That's why your village has tended this grove so carefully for generations now. Normally the ginkgo does not thrive in the Great Desert, except closer to the canyons or the shore, or in the occasional seep oasis in the North.”
“I know.” Jack glanced up at the tree. “It's just too bad they didn't plant a nice edible cycad grove or something instead.”
“But the ginkgo provides much more food than the slow-growing cycads,” Cragnog pointed out. “That's one of the reasons people and dinosaurs overlook the unpleasant smell of the ginkgo fruit, just as they appreciate the Cyathea despite the prickly scales on its base, or Equisetum despite its invasive growth habits. All have their differences—and their negative points, perhaps—yet all are valuable in their own way. Don't mistake fireflies for lanterns.”
Jack sighed. Cragnog's words made sense when it came to plants. But he wasn't convinced that they held true for people. Still, out of respect for his saurian friend, he listened as Cragnog went on.
“One must have strong scales to accept that these differences are a good thing, not a detriment. If you view the situation that way, I think you will find that you and Ty have more in common than you think.”
“Maybe,” Jack mumbled, his mind busy turning over what Cragnog had just said. Did the saurian really think he and Ty were alike? The very concept was difficult to fathom, since the two of them were as different as night and day.
Jack decided that the best way to take his mind off such things was to talk about something more interesting. He pulled his book out of his pocket.
“I was just reading this when you arrived,” he told Cragnog. “The professor was talking about this huge Platycerium he found.”
“Ah, yes! The largest elkhorn fern in Dinotopia. I've seen it myself, and—”
“Jack! Jack?” A woman's voice broke into the conversation. A second later Jack's mother appeared at the edge of the shade canopy. Her dark hair was piled haphazardly atop her head and fastened with a pretty coral hairpin. Her olive-skinned face was damp with exertion.
“Over here, Mother,” Jack called to her, waving.
She hurried toward them. “Breathe deep, seek peace, friend Cragnog,” she said breathlessly, smiling fondly at the saurian. Then she turned to Jack. “Son, your father and I need your help back at the stables.”
“Right now?” Jack blurted out without thinking. “Are you sure?”
“I'm afraid so. We need to bring down clean straw from the loft and fetch fresh water for our overnight guests.” Mrs.
Hardwick gestured toward the path beyond the canopy, and Jack saw his father leading two Aepycamelus from the caravan in the direction of the stables.
Jack bit his lip. He spent most of his days helping his family by shoveling Aepycamelus dung and hauling water from the spring. Usually he didn't mind the work. But today he had hoped to have enough time for a nice long conversation with Cragnog. It wasn't every day that he had someone so interesting to talk to, and he wanted to make the most of it.
“Could you possibly manage without me for just a little while longer?” he pleaded hopefully.
“I'm sorry, son.” Jack's mother smiled, but her voice was firm. “We need you now. I'm sure Cragnog understands.”
“Of course,” the Pinacosaurus said. “Breathe deep, seek peace, my young friend. The caravan does not depart until daybreak tomorrow. Perhaps we will have a chance to speak again before then.”
“All right.” Jack couldn't help feeling disappointed. Still, he knew that Aepycamelus tended to get grumpy and uncooperative when their dinner was delayed.
Bidding farewell to Cragnog, Jack followed his mother. They caught up to Jack's father a moment later. Mr. Hardwick was as fair as his wife was dark. Along with his blond hair, Jack had inherited his father's broad shoulders and sturdy build.
“There you are, Jack, my boy,” Mr. Hardwick said with his usual easy smile. “Good. We need all the help we can get if we're going to manage to get these unruly beasts to bed.”
One of the Aepycamelus let out a snort and shot Mr. Hardwick a disgruntled look. Mrs. Hardwick laughed and patted the tall creature on the shoulder.
“He was only joking, Sasha,” she told the Aepycamelus soothingly. She glanced at Jack. “We do have a lot to do, though. We weren't expecting this caravan, so we didn't have food and bedding prepared for all these extra Aepys. Are you ready to get to work?”
“I suppose so,” Jack mumbled dejectedly.
As his parents led the way down the sandy path through the ginkgo grove and into town, Jack glanced over his shoulder. Most of the human caravaners were still gathered beneath the shade canopy. Villagers were circulating with trays of refreshing fruits and nuts and pitchers of cold water.
When Jack noticed that Ty was talking to Cragnog and the Hypacrosaurus named Luna, he grimaced and turned away. It didn't seem fair that the other boy should get the chance to talk to them when he wouldn't even appreciate anything they had to say. But there was nothing Jack could do.
As he walked with his parents, Jack noticed that they weren't saying anything, just exchanging glances.
“Should we tell him now?” Jack's father finally said, trying to hide a smile.
“What?” Jack asked, confused.
“I don't know,” said Mrs. Hardwick with a wink.
“We could wait,” Mr. Hardwick suggested playfully.
“Tell me what?” Jack said. “What's going on?”
“We didn't pull you away because we need your help in the stables,” his father finally admitted. “We just thought you might need the extra time to pack.”
“Pack?” Jack repeated, more perplexed than ever. “Pack what?”
“You know we couldn't manage that family trip you asked about,” his mother replied. “But we thought this would be the next best thing.”
“I don't understand.” Jack furrowed his brow.
“It's your birthday gift, son,” Mr. Hardwick announced with a smile. “When that caravan shoves off tomorrow morning, you're going with them!”
Jack could hardly believe his ears. “What?” he gasped. “You mean . . . you mean I get to ride along? All the way to Meeramu? Really?”
His father grinned and looped one arm around his wife's waist. “That's right,” he said. “We think we can manage without you for a week or two.”
“Right,” Jack's mother added. “But we're going to save up all the Aepy dung for you to shovel when you get back, just so you don't feel left out.”
“Okay, no problem!” Jack was so excited that it took several seconds before he realized she was kidding about the Aepycamelus dung. Not that it mattered. Jack would have joyfully agreed to wield his pitchfork nonstop for the next ten years if that was what it took. He was going on a caravan!
His father laughed with delight at Jack's obvious joy.
“But how did you arrange it all?” asked Jack after calming down.
“We'd heard that the caravan was leading a couple extra Aepycamelus back to Meeramu,” his mother explained. “When we spoke to Garrison about it, he agreed to let you borrow one for the ride. He's sure he can get you on a return trip as well.”
“Right,” his father added with a chuckle. “He said it was fine with him as long as you could keep up. So you'd better be careful not to oversleep and delay them, or old grumpy Garrison might not be so agreeable about having you along.”
“Oh, gosh! Thank you!” Jack exclaimed breathlessly, grabbing both his parents in a tight hug. “I feel like I'm touching the sky with a finger, and it's all because of you. Thank you so much, both of you!”
“You're welcome,” Mrs. Hardwick responded.
“But you might want to save some of your thanks for your friend Ty,” Mr. Hardwick said with a smile.
Jack blinked. “What?” he said.
“What a nice, friendly boy he is,” Mrs. Hardwick commented. “When we ran into him at the canopy, he told us all about how he was thinking of heading down to Meeramu to visit his cousins.”
“That's right,” Jack's father added. “He was the one who told us about the extra Aepys in the string. If not for that, we might never have come up with this whole idea.”
“I don't understand,” Jack said, his happy mood wavering. “What does Ty have to do with any of this?”
“WAAAA-OOOOOOO!”
Jack jumped as the abrasive warning cry erupted from somewhere close by. “An Aepycamelus?” Jack murmured without thinking.
“What's the matter with you, Jack?” said his father with a laugh. “After all this time, can't you distinguish a real Aepy call from an imitation one?” He chuckled and pointed.
Jack turned and saw Ty Ferris loping toward them. He was grinning, looking pleased with himself, as usual. As Jack watched, he cupped one hand around his mouth and let out the fake Aepycamelus cry again.
“What are you doing?” Jack blurted out, annoyed at the intrusion.
“I just came over to share the good news, Hardwick,” Ty announced cheerfully, slinging his arm around Jack's shoulders as he reached his side. “I'm coming along on the caravan, too! Isn't that outstanding?”
CHAPTER 4
The next morning, Jack arrived at the shade canopy with his pack. Most of the caravan was already there. The well-rested Aepycamelus were munching on some breakfast greens and taking sips of the water that would last them throughout the next two days' journey. Meanwhile, the humans were hurrying this way and that, making last-minute adjustments to their tack, supplies, and other gear.
Jack stood at the edge of the canopy for a moment, drinking in the exciting scene. Suddenly recalling his father's warning about being late, he snapped back into motion. After setting his pack with the others waiting to be loaded onto the Aepycamelus, he approached Garrison. The large, bearded man pointed out Jack's assigned Aepycamelus. He was a gangly dun-colored beast with knobby knees and a trace of faint reddish brown spots up and down his four-foot-long neck.
“His name's One-Toe,” Garrison said. “One of the most reliable trekkers in the desert. He'll take good care of you, boy. Why don't you amble over and introduce yourself?”
“Um, okay.” Unlike saurians and some other creatures, these tall, hoofed mammals lacked the ability to imitate human speech. Instead, they communicated through body language or a variety of expressive snorts for most things, occasionally using the universal footprint alphabet of the dinosaurs to express simple requests or ideas.
Some said that the brain of the Aepycamelus was not capable of understanding the complexities of mo
st human or saurian speech, but Jack's parents had taught him that the creatures understood more than they let on. Due to their phlegmatic nature, they simply chose not to exert themselves any more than necessary.
Jack approached the line of munching camelids carefully. He had spent enough time around the unique creatures to have some understanding of them. Aepycamelus were generally easygoing, but they could be skittish when startled. They could also hold a grudge when they felt they'd been wronged. He definitely didn't want to get off on the wrong foot.
Jack cleared his throat and then politely said, “Hi.” He stopped in front of One-Toe and bowed his head respectfully. “My name is Jack. I—I guess I'll be your rider for the rest of the trip.”
The Aepycamelus calmly raised his head from the pile of greens. Blinking lazily, he slowly looked the boy up and down. Finally he dipped his camel-like head in a return bow.
For a moment Jack thought that was that. But the Aepycamelus wasn't finished. Stepping over to a smooth, sandy spot of ground, he slowly and deliberately wrote several letters, using the Dinotopian footprint alphabet. The missing toe on one of his broad feet made it no more difficult to read.
“BDSP.” Jack whispered the letters as he read them, recognizing the shortened form of the standard Dinotopian greeting. It was typical of Aepycamelus to conserve letters as well as water. “Breathe deep, seek peace to you, too,” he responded. “I can't wait to get moving!”
One-Toe gazed at him calmly, seeming unimpressed with the boy's enthusiasm. Jack shrugged and hurried over to Cragnog, who was standing nearby talking with Luna while several villagers lashed a sun visor onto his frill to protect his eyes from the glare of the desert sun.
“Good morning, young friend,” Cragnog greeted him. He turned to his companion. “Allow me to introduce Jack Hardwick, a young man with an inquiring mind and a patient heart. Jack, this is Luna, a saurian who has forgotten more about many things than most will ever know.”