The Fallen Star

by Tracey Hecht

In the night world of the valley, the Nocturnal Brigade was the name that the three friends were known by. Bold in adventure and brave in challenge, they came to the rescue of creatures in danger or in need of their help.

  Bismark gestured toward Dawn and Tobin and urged them to follow. “Come on, amigos, we cannot venture forth without our proper attire!”

  Tobin gathered his cape and Dawn’s as well. He grinned as he secured his around his neck.

  “The Nocturnal Brigade is back at it!” Bismark exclaimed, stretching an arm toward the fox. “Shall we, mon amour?”

  Dawn draped her cape around her neck. “Yes, we must go see if anyone needs our help.” The fox took one final glance at the fallen trees and split branches around them. “I hope we’re not too late.”

  Chapter Four

  THE FALLEN STAR

  “Keep…churning…those paws…mes amis!” Bismark coughed his way through the thick, dusty air. The Brigade was moving through the forest, heading in the direction of the fallen star. Dawn and Tobin raced along the ground while Bismark soared up above, flinging his small body through the treetops.

  “Oh dear.” Tobin coughed, too. The pangolin was pushing his stout legs to their limit, but the air around him grew dustier and dustier. It was getting harder to breathe, and it was becoming more difficult to see—the pangolin’s already fuzzy vision had begun to blur, and his eyes filled with tears.

  Tobin lifted his snout. “Ah-choo!” he sneezed. A burning, metallic reek stung his nose. There was something gritty and hot hanging in the haze. “Dawn? Bismark? Do you feel that, too?”

  Bismark had landed on the peak of a tall elm tree, where he shielded his eyes with a flap. From his perch, he could see a huge tower of dust billowing from the south. It was gradually spreading throughout the entire valley.

  “Mon dieu,” he muttered. “All this gunk on my lustrous coat!” He sailed a few tree lengths ahead. The closer he drew toward the fallen star, the less foliage there was in the tree tops. And fewer leaves meant less shelter from the clouds of dust rapidly approaching.

  “I’m blinder than a bat up here.” Bismark spat. “This will never do.” Spreading his flaps out wide, he let himself float to the ground in front of his friends. “Bad news, amigos! Thick clouds are rolling in. I can hardly see my own flaps up there. We must abandon the mission!”

  “Bismark, animals could be hurt,” Dawn said as she leaped over a fallen log. “We must hurry.”

  Scrambling alongside his friends, Tobin tried his best to feel his way through the swirling sand. “Oh goodness, I can hardly see a thing!” he said. “And that smell…it’s getting worse!” His sensitive snout was beginning to burn.

  “Mon dieu, indeed it is! It’s stinking like a boar’s backside!” Bismark said with a retch.

  “Hmm, it doesn’t smell quite like that, Bismark,” Tobin said, frowning. He tested the air with his snout. “It’s more like…like…” He shut his eyes to focus on the odor. He tottered forward, nose titled high in the air. “Like something’s on fire–”

  “Tobin, look out!” Dawn suddenly shouted.

  The pangolin’s eyes shot open, but it was too late. His claws had caught on a fallen branch, and he flipped right over the ledge of an unexpected drop. He quickly curled into his protective ball of armor and rolled down the slope like a runaway pinecone. Faster and faster he went as he careened away from his friends.

  “Dios mio, Señor Scales! Look at you go!” Bismark cried. “Wait for us, oh circular one! We were not made to bounce and bowl like you!” The glider spread his flaps and glided down the slope after Tobin. Dawn picked up her pace as quickly as she could.

  “Oof! Ow! Ouch!” the pangolin grunted as he bounded down the hillside. To protect himself, he tucked in his limbs, creating an even tighter ball, but this only made him roll faster.

  “Slow down, muchacho! I am supposed to be the fleetest-of-flaps around here!” Bismark shouted. The glider was skimming the surface of the ground at top speed, landing every so often to sprint a few steps and then take off once more. Dawn followed close behind in a blur of amber fur.

  “Tobin, stop! Use your claws!” she yelled.

  “Oh goodness, I’m trying!” the pangolin called back. He jammed his claws into the earth, but he was tumbling too rapidly to bring himself to a halt. Bouncing off a bump, Tobin launched into the air. For a brief moment, his round body seemed to hover weightlessly, concealing the full moon in a total eclipse.

  “Your arms, mi amigo, flap your arms! Bismark cried. “Oh mon dieu, he’s going to crash like the falling star! This is it, the end, the final good-bye. Hasta luego, oh scaly one!”

  “Tobin!” Dawn shouted. “Reach for me!” The fox leaped through the air with all her strength and caught the pangolin’s bulky body with her front legs. Tobin’s stumpy arms wrapped around her neck as she guided him to the ground with a thump, her body softening his fall.

  “Oh fantastico! Mi amore, mi amigo, what form, what grace, what panache!” The sugar glider applauded. He skidded to a dusty halt next to his friends. “But I must ask, my love, where was that saving embrace last night, when the one hurtling to the ground was moi?”

  Tobin, meanwhile, examined his scales for scratches. He steadied his legs and looked up at the steep ledge where he had tripped and taken flight. “I don’t remember there being a cliff in this part of the valley.”

  Dawn was thinking the same thing. Her eyes strained through the clouds of dry earth that the three had kicked up in their descent. Where were they? All she could tell was that they had dropped somewhere far below the normal level of the forest floor. But how was that possible?

  Then, suddenly, Dawn detected something in the dusty dark, and her eyes flickered with understanding. “That was no cliff,” she said.

  There was a brief pause. Tobin and Bismark stared at her blankly.

  “My lady, maybe your fall to the earth last night didn’t go as smoothly as I thought,” Bismark said, scratching his chin. “Trust me, we sugar gliders know all about the dangerous drops of the earth. That one, my lady, is absolutamente a cliff.”

  “No, Bismark,” she replied coolly. “It’s a crater! And—look! That’s what we’ve been searching for.”

  The fox gestured into the gloom. The dust had settled around the Brigade, and as the air cleared a dark shape was slowly materializing out of the shadows. The trio watched the dim form in awe. Then, at last, a moonbeam glinted off its surface, bringing it into focus: it was the fallen star!

  Tobin gasped.

  “Way to go, pangolino! Your tuck-and-roll brought us right to it! That and the radiant rescue from my lady,” said Bismark, nudging the fox’s haunches.

  The three friends stared up at the strange, foreign object. It was a large, dark mass, roughly the size and shape of a hippopotamus. Except for a jagged crack across the front, it was as smooth and black as volcanic glass.

  “So this is what a fallen star looks like? A giant rock? A stone from the sky?” Bismark asked, stepping toward the star to peek inside its fracture. “Where’s all the light? The heat? The shining brilliance of the stars? All this one’s got is a little crack.… Too dark to see inside, though …”

  “Don’t get too close,” Dawn warned. From a few paw’s lengths away, the fox studied the black stony object. “When a star falls from above and crashes to Earth, it takes this form. I’ve heard that it is called a meteorite.” She began circling the stone.

  “Oh goodness, it still smells like it’s on fire!” Tobin noted, his nose twitching.

  “It burned scars into the earth,” Dawn noted. “And look, it also left these strange mounds of dirt.…” Her voice trailed off, and she frowned.

  The glider stepped back from the stone’s crevice and checked the ground beneath his feet. Dawn was right—the meteorite was surrounded by little clods of dirt, each one with a tiny hole in the middle.

  “Never fear, mon amour! Just a bit of stardust,” he said, poking at one of the mounds. It crumbled at
his touch. “Blech! Kind of grimy, actually.”

  The fox inspected the piles around her paws. They appeared to be freshly dug. “Careful what you touch,” she said.

  While the sugar glider flicked bits of dirt from his claws, Tobin also took a closer look at the fallen star and the ground surrounding it. “What could have made all these mounds?” he murmured. The pangolin turned to Dawn.

  She shifted her jaw uneasily.

  “Not much could have survived the meteorite’s impact,” she mused. “Insects, perhaps. Or maybe some kind of—”

  Tap tap tap.

  The fox’s mouth snapped shut.

  Tap tap tap.

  The noise was coming from the stone.

  Tap tap tap.

  “Mon dieu!” Bismark gulped, backing away. “The fallen star is alive!”

  Chapter Five

  THE INVASION

  Tap tap tap.

  Tap tap tap.

  Dawn took a cautious step forward. As she approached, the mysterious tapping grew louder. More insistent.

  Tap tap tap!

  Tap tap tap!

  “My lady, look out! That hunk of rock is not to be trusted!” Bismark cried, hiding behind Tobin’s armored tail.

  Dawn peered at the stone. “Who’s there?” she called.

  “Dios mio! Something’s moving!” The sugar glider pointed to a figure emerging from behind the star.

  The Brigade stepped back in shock. A strange animal was slowly rising from the shadows. Tobin gasped as its two bony hands came into view, each one sporting a fourth finger that was nearly twice as long as all the others. Then he raised his eyes to take in the rest of the creature: two leathery ears, a pair of orange eyes, a wrinkled face, and a furry body with a thick, bushy tail. With its rodent-like fangs, grimy fur, and massive, fiery eyes, it looked like a small monkey crossed with a swamp rat.

  “Mon dieu! It’s the monster of the fallen star!” Bismark cried. “Stand back, foul beast! Stay away, filthy fiend! Oh heaven above, you have sent one miserable muchacha down to us!”

  “Um, hello?” the much more polite pangolin said, nudging Bismark with his snout. Still, Tobin had to admit—the newcomer’s appearance was startling. He had never seen anything like it.

  “By the stars! Look at those fingers! That scowl! That drool!” Bismark continued. “I want to look away, but I cannot!”

  “Be quiet, Bismark,” Dawn scolded. “She’s an aye-aye, the rarest type of lemur in the valley. I’ve heard them described, but I’ve never actually seen one before.”

  “Do not be ridiculo, my love! Everyone knows that lemurs are primates of soft fuzz and sweet fur!” the sugar glider cried. “This one looks like she was born in a prickle bush!”

  “Enough, Bismark,” Dawn said. She turned to the aye-aye. “Forgive us,” she began. “We’ve come to see if anyone was hurt by the star. I am Dawn, and this is Bismark and Tobin. We are the Nocturnal Brigade.”

  “What is your name?” Tobin offered shyly.

  The aye-aye did not answer. Instead, she began to climb the meteorite. When she reached its top, she turned to the trio, staring with her large eyes. Then she used her elongated fourth finger to tap against the stone.

  Tap tap tap.

  “Mon dieu, that miserable muchacha’s finger is as long as your tongue, amigo!” Bismark whispered, poking the pangolin’s flanks. The glider’s gaze moved to the sharp tips of the aye-aye’s grimy nails, and he shuddered.

  “Hey! Wait just a momento,” he cried. “I think I’m on to something! Listen up, Madame Monstruoso. Was it you who dug these holes in the soil? Quick, someone check those fingers for dirt!”

  “Oh goodness, Bismark! Give her a chance to speak,” Tobin whispered to his friend.

  But despite his good intentions, the pangolin felt a surge of dread as the aye-aye turned her harsh gaze on him. Perched upon the stone, she looked like some kind of hairy vulture at roost. Finally, she opened her mouth and wheezed a shallow cough.

  “A stone, a star-stone, fallen from the sky! It has come, but it did not come alone,” she said. Her raspy voice echoed faintly off the smooth meteorite. “Aye-Aye Iris has seen them. The mounds have been made. The poison has been set. The creatures are among us. The invasion has begun!”

  “Oh goodness! Poison? Creatures? Invasion!?” Tobin cried.

  “Mon dieu!” Bismark exclaimed. “Invaders? In the valley?”

  The fur on Dawn’s neck stood on end, but her voice remained steady and calm. “What kind of creatures did you see?” she asked the hunched animal above her.

  The aye-aye sputtered. Her shoulders heaved with each raspy breath. She wheezed and clutched her sides. But she said nothing in reply. She just continued to stare down at the Brigade. Dawn noticed that in all this time, the lemur had not blinked even once. Was something wrong with her? Was she ill? Or was she simply rattled by the fallen star?

  “What evidence do you have of an invasion? Of poison?” the fox pressed, meeting the aye-aye’s spellbinding stare with a steady look of her own.

  But the aye-aye just clicked her tongue and licked her lips, as if detecting the scent of something ripe in the air. “They have landed,” she repeated simply. “They have come. And they will destroy us all.”

  “For the love of all things gracious and good!” Bismark said, taking a few steps away from the aye-aye. “Who are these invaders? What do they want?”

  The aye-aye opened her mouth to speak but then stopped. Her pointy ears twitched in their beds of stringy white fur.

  “This is all starting to sound a little loco,” Bismark continued. “I think that hair of yours might not be the only thing in need of untangling, comprende?”

  The aye-aye hissed. Her face morphed into a grimace. “Aye-Aye Iris knows! Aye-Aye Iris knows!” She rapped her finger against the meteorite.

  “Aye-Aye Iris,” Dawn’s voice softened to calm the distraught lemur. “Please, tell us: who are these invaders? Where are they?” Dawn’s gaze swept the area, searching for intruders.

  “Yes! Where are they?” echoed the sugar glider. Bismark lifted his arms and took in the surroundings with a flourish of his flaps. “Regardez, there is no one here but us. We are solo. Inoccupato. Alone!” The glider planted his hands on his hips and cleared his throat, as if he were going to continue.

  The aye-aye’s stare hardened, but she remained silent.

  Dawn took two small steps toward her. “Iris, what do the invaders look like? What poison have they set?”

  “Only Aye-Aye Iris knows!” screeched the lemur. “Aye-Aye Iris knows the secret!” She doubled over and wheezed some more.

  “What secret?” Dawn prodded.

  “Follow Aye-Aye Iris,” the lemur said. She took a step toward the edge of the meteorite and beckoned the Brigade with her finger.

  The glider recoiled. Stumbling backward, he gathered his friends toward him with his flaps. “Mon dieu, she’s as crazy as she looks! Muy loco, totally mad! Who would believe such outrageous talk? She makes no sense!” he cried.

  Iris’s bat-like ears twitched at the sound of Bismark’s mocking tone, and she let out a garbled grunt. “You don’t believe Aye-Aye Iris, hmm?” She pointed her finger at the sugar glider. “Very well then, very well!”

  In a movement of surprising grace, the aye-aye slid from the stone. Then, with her posture slumped, she started trekking across the crater. Her spindly limbs moved like the legs of an enormous spider as she propelled herself away from the Brigade and into the thick dust.

  “Wait.” Tobin glanced nervously at the strange lemur moving farther and farther away. “Shouldn’t we stop her?” He turned to Dawn and Bismark. “Don’t you think we should find out the secret? Just in case?”

  “No! Don’t be silly, amigo,” said the glider. “She is crazy, bonkers, insane! But I do suggest we vamanos before Lady Loco decides to return and do something to us with those freaky fingers of hers.”

  And then, just as she began to recede from view, one of
the lemur’s long, lanky fingers emerged from the haze. She pointed it at the Brigade.

  “Mark these words, sugar glider! Fox! Pangolin!” Her voice carried through the gloom. “You shall know when you see the glow. Beware the glow!” She paused dramatically. “But also know this,” she continued. “Once you see it, it will be too late.” Iris shook her head. Then she let out a cackle that echoed through the darkness.

  The Brigade squinted into the distance after the aye-aye, but they soon lost sight of her altogether. The air hung as heavy and thick as the eerie silence that remained.

  “Uh, wait! Muchacha! Perhaps I was a bit rash, a bit hasty. You know, distracted by those fearsome…I mean, fancy fingers of yours!” Bismark called after her.

  But there was no response.

  The aye-aye had disappeared.

  If there was a secret to learn, the aye-aye had taken it with her.

  Chapter Six

  THE OMINOUS AYE-AYE

  “No, my amigos, it is just as I suspected—there is zippo! Zero! Zilch!” Bismark shouted. Standing on tiptoe on top of Tobin’s pointy snout, the sugar glider peered inside the fallen star’s crack. “But pee-yew! Is the star stone still burning, or did that aye-aye, Iris, leave behind her stench?” He flapped himself away from the rotten fumes rising from the meteorite and landed back on the ground with a huff.

  “Oh goodness, are you sure there’s nothing in there?” Tobin asked his friend. “No star creatures? No glow?”

  “Mon ami, I assure you—the only creature near this rock was that long-fingered loony,” Bismark said. “Besides, who has ever heard of such a story? Critters from the stars? Poison from the sky? A mysterious glow? Pah, I say. Ridiculo!”

  Tobin pawed nervously at one of the small dirt piles around the fallen star. “But what about these mounds?” he asked.

  Dawn slowly paced in front of the meteorite, eyeing the crater that it had created and the strange mounds that surrounded it. She stepped closer to the fallen star and was surprised to see her reflection in the stone’s glossy surface. She turned to face her friends.