The Fallen Star

by Tracey Hecht

  “The explosion, the smell, this crater—the meteorite caused these things—” she started.

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself, mon amour,” Bismark interrupted. “Looks like we’ve cracked the case! Another job well done by the Nocturnal Brigade. We found the stone, though it wasn’t exactly as romantique as I thought it would be, thanks to that cuckoo creature. But no matter. Let’s head on home. Excellent work, mes amis. Muy, muy bueno.”

  Tobin watched the fox continue to paw at the mounds scattered around the meteor.

  “But I can’t explain these,” Dawn finished.

  “Hmm.” Bismark stared into the stone. “For a hunk of cold, hard rock from outer space, this fallen star sure is attractive!” The glider flexed an arm and posed in front of the meteorite, which reflected his movements like the surface of a black, depthless sea. “Mon dieu, I am handsome! No wonder that creepy cucaracha couldn’t keep her eyes off me.”

  The fox ignored her friend’s ranting and took one last careful look around the crater. Besides the mounds in the earth, there was no sign of anything unusual or any real harm done.

  She sniffed the air and pricked her ears, but nothing odd caught her attention. She frowned. Perhaps she should take the meteorite’s safe landing as a good omen: truly a lucky star, after all. And in that case, Bismark was right—the Brigade had done their duty.

  “Let us go. There’s much to clean up in the valley,” the fox said. She turned to lead her friends on the hike back up the crater’s steep slope, her tail swishing as she moved.

  “Oh you lady fox! I love it when you hustle and bustle,” Bismark called in reply, trotting to catch up.

  As the Brigade made their way back into the forest, the sugar glider stepped alongside the trundling pangolin and extended his pointer finger with exaggeration.

  “Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap!” he said, poking the pangolin’s scales.

  “Oh goodness, Bismark!” Tobin laughed nervously, glancing about with unease.

  “Loosen up, amigo, that aye-aye was a bit bananas, yes, but nothing to be worried about.”

  The Brigade continued through the forest. As they neared home, the moon faded in the sky, and the first fingertips of sunrise began to creep across the horizon. Tobin yawned. It had been a very long night.

  Dawn smiled at her tired friends then let out a small yawn herself. “Let’s get some sleep,” she suggested. The fox padded toward a fallen tree and then, using her tail, swept its loose leaves into a comfortable mound. “Cleanup can wait until nightfall when we are better rested.”

  “Good idea, my fair fox!” Bismark bounded toward Dawn and leaped into her pile of leaves, creating a flurry around him. “Nothing like a snuggle with my sweet!”

  With a good-natured roll of her eyes, the fox scooted sideways, creating space between her and the sugar glider. Then she curled up in a crescent and allowed her eyes to close.

  Tobin settled nearby and released a contented sigh. It had been an exhausting, strange night, but all was well. A lucky star, he thought, remembering the brilliant flash across the dark sky. And then he fell asleep.

  ***

  Guuuurrrrgghhh.

  The pangolin awoke to the sound of a loud grumble.

  His eyes shot open. The sky was a rich periwinkle; he had slept straight through until dusk.

  Guuuurrrrgghhh!

  “Mon dieu,” Bismark groaned, rubbing his eyes. “What is that racket? That rumble? That noise? Has another meteorite struck the earth?”

  “Oh goodness.” Tobin grinned bashfully. “It’s just my stomach. I’m afraid I’ve woken up hungry.”

  The fox rose to her feet and smiled. “We need to check the meteorite’s damage,” she said. “But we’ll start back at Bismark’s pomelo tree, where there will be plenty of pomelos to satisfy your appetite.”

  “Pomelos!” cheered Tobin.

  “Fallen pomelos,” grunted the sugar glider.

  Tobin grinned. “Yes…and someone’s got to eat them before they go bad, right?” And then, with a small yelp of excitement, he hastened to a trot, leading his friends down the final stretch of path to the forest’s edge. But just as soon as he reached the clearing and Bismark’s pomelo tree came into view, something brought him to an abrupt halt.

  “Oh goodness!” the pangolin cried. He gestured frantically at the ground. “Dawn, Bismark! Look!”

  The pangolin began to tremble at the sight. Bismark’s tree was surrounded by dozens and dozens of mounds of loose soil, just like the ones at the star. What’s more, all the glider’s fallen pomelos had been viciously torn open and savagely clawed to shreds.

  Dawn remained silent, but her amber eyes widened with alarm and suspicion.

  Bismark’s eyes bulged. “By all that is nightly!” he screamed. “It is an attack! We have been invaded!”

  Chapter Seven

  SOMETHING FRUITY, SOMETHING FOUL

  Bismark sprinted around the clearing, stooping to inspect the pomelos as he ran. Each one was the same: brutally split open and drained of its succulent juice.

  “My poor, pauvres pomelos!” the glider cried. “Taken before their time was ripe! Pinched before their prime of life! That long-fingered lemur was right: the star creatures have attacked!”

  “Oh goodness!” Tobin cried nervously. “Do you really think there are invaders or star creatures?”

  The fox cautiously sniffed at the mounds of dirt. The disturbed soil smelled moist. And there was something else—a tang she could not identify. A foreign odor. This scent was fresh. It couldn’t have been left more than few moments ago—they’d arrived only minutes after the culprits had gone!

  “Oh goodness!” the pangolin gasped again. His stomach growled loudly at the sight of all the wasted pomelos. Ruined! But as he moved about the mangled mess, the tempting scent of oozing fruit filled his nostrils. This comforting odor distracted him from all thoughts of invaders. It spoke to his stomach, calming his worried mind. The pomelos may have been mashed—but he was sure they’d still be delicious!

  “Oh!” Tobin said as he tromped over to what appeared to be a perfect pomelo. He cautiously rolled the fruit over with his snout. It did have a gash in its peel, but most of its flesh was still intact. “This one still looks okay,” he said quietly as he cradled it in his paws.

  The pangolin’s mouth watered. His stomach rumbled. He studied the cut in the greenish-yellow rind and frowned.

  Not so bad, really, he convinced himself. “Perhaps I’ll just try a little.…” Slowly, Tobin inched open his jaw. His long tongue extended from his mouth and sank into the sweet, citrusy fruit. He lapped up a large piece of the fruit and swallowed.

  “Oh!” the pangolin gasped as his mouth immediately flared with an intense burning sensation.

  Dawn whipped toward him at once. “Tobin, no!” she cried. “Don’t touch the fruit!”

  Tobin dropped the pomelo, his tiny black eyes tearing as he sealed his mouth shut to silence his pain.

  “You didn’t eat any, did you?” Dawn pressed, staring at her friend’s bleary eyes.

  Embarrassed, Tobin shook his head no.

  “Good,” said the fox, relieved. “We must not touch this fruit until we know who or what attacked it.”

  Tobin nodded again to agree with his leader. Then he gulped. His tongue still burned—it felt as if he were sucking an ember. His stomach felt tied up in knots, and suddenly, a smelly green poof escaped from his rear. This was the spray he released, much like a skunk, whenever he felt afraid or in danger.

  “Ay, caramba! What’s with the stench, mon ami?” Bismark cried, holding his nose and fanning the air with his flap. “We’re all a bit scared of these so-called invaders, but try to hold off on the stink! We’ve got enough fumes flying around here.”

  Tobin’s mouth curled into a grimace. His legs started to wobble, and his brow broke into a cold sweat.

  “Tobin, are you all right?” Dawn asked noticing his pained frown. She put a paw on his scaly shoulder.<
br />
  The pangolin’s tongue burned too much to speak, so he simply whimpered and pointed at one of the pomelos.

  “Oh, we know, my scaly hermano.” Bismark sighed. “It breaks the heart. Torments the tête. Tortures the soul! Our beauties…lying here like wreckage!” He turned to Tobin. “Have no shame, amigo. This sight could make even the bravest of hombres cry.” Bismark dabbed the corner of his eye.

  Tobin nodded. The fiery sensation in his mouth was not lessening. His lips stung, and his stomach was growing hot. He needed to tell his friends what he’d done. He had to. Tobin swallowed hard, preparing to confess, but then:

  “Eurrrghhhhh!” A loud noise ripped through the clearing.

  The pangolin gasped. It sounded like a large, menacing beast…and it was coming from the bushes behind the Brigade.

  “Great Scott!” wailed Bismark. “It’s the invaders! They’ve come back for us! This is it, amigos! The end! La fin! Oh my bella Dawn, our time together was so short, yet so sweet—”

  “Eurrrghhhhhh!” The noise sounded again, this time accompanied by the sound of crunching leaves underfoot.

  Tobin curled into a ball. His tongue flamed and his stomach churned.

  “Who goes there?” Bismark’s voice wavered as he scrambled behind the fox.

  Dawn shifted her weight, shoulders lowered and hind legs tensed, taking her striking position.

  The sound of crunching leaves grew louder. The Brigade had company.

  Chapter Eight

  THE POMELO PLAGUE

  “Take cover, amigos!” Bismark quickly leaped behind Dawn, hiding under her tail. Then he peered back out at the brush. “Be gone, you beasts! Beat it, I say! Shoo! Scram!”

  But the brush thrashed again. The leaves on the ground trembled with each heavy, approaching step. “Look!” Tobin gasped. The fire in his mouth had cooled somewhat, but it was still difficult for him to speak. “Someone is coming out!”

  Dawn narrowed her eyes and bared her claws, preparing to defend herself and her friends. But when the foliage parted at last, the fox let her muscles relax. The animals that emerged were a bush kangaroo; a group of pointy-eared bilbies—small rabbit-like creatures; and a mother bandicoot with her babies—mice-like marsupials with long snouts. Dawn exhaled. Most of these creatures were tiny, timid, and harmless.

  But Bismark, his face still half-hidden in the fox’s fur, groped wildly on the ground for a stick. He finally managed to wrap his paw around a puny twig. “Stand back, I tell you! En garde!” he shouted, blindly waving it to and fro. “I am a powerful predator, a convincing carnivore, a…a … Well, you don’t want to mess with me!”

  “Bismark, calm down,” Dawn said firmly.

  Finally, the sugar glider peeked out at the new arrivals. He guffawed. “Pah! Look at these little nincompoops!” he cried, stepping free of the fox. “What were you two so scared of, hmm? I could take them out with a single flap!”

  Tobin cocked his scaly head in concern. The small animals were moving sluggishly. He blinked his beady eyes and looked closer. “Oh goodness,” he breathed. “Something’s wrong with them!”

  Dawn nodded in agreement. These creatures could do no harm even if they wanted to. The kangaroo was retching and coughing. The bilbies slumped to the ground as soon as they had cleared the bushes. And each animal had the same alarming deformity: their bellies were swollen to twice their normal size.

  The fox moved forward, her sharp eyes traveling from one animal to the next. “What happened?” she asked.

  The bandicoot, who had been tenderly patting the damp brows of her young ones, took a small hop toward the Brigade. With each movement, she winced in a sharp spasm of pain.

  “P-p-p …” she began. But each time she opened her mouth, the words caught in her throat with a dry rasp.

  Tobin grimaced as he watched the bandicoot cradle her swollen stomach. Finally, she took a deep breath and tried again.

  “It’s—it’s poison!” she cried at last. “We’ve been poisoned!”

  “Mon dieu, what did you say? Take back that horrid word! It cannot be true!” Bismark cried. He looked wildly at Dawn.

  Dawn lowered her head so that she could peer into the bandicoot’s furrowed face. “What poison? Who poisoned you?” she asked.

  “You see…we…” the bandicoot began. She paused to sit down. Then she gripped her gut and rolled over slowly with a low, weak yowl. “Just…a moment.…My… apologies,” she stammered.

  “Take your time,” Tobin said softly. He lowered his snout sympathetically and listened carefully to the bandicoot’s faint voice.

  “After the big crash two nights ago, we found dozens of fallen pomelos. We had a feast,” she explained. “But then…” she glanced at her sick children and shook her head side-to-side. “Well, next thing you know, our mouths are on fire. And then the poison spread and our insides burned, too. We’ve been sick ever since!”

  “Oh goodness!” Tobin cried. He glanced at each of the animals nervously. “This is all from eating pomelos?”

  “That’s the only thing it could be,” said the bandicoot. “We didn’t eat anything else.” Again, she grimaced with pain and rolled over, exposing the tight, swollen skin stretched across her stomach. “And the pain keeps getting worse.”

  “Mon dieu! Did you two hear what that bunny rabbit just said?” Bismark exclaimed. “The invasion! The poison! The horror! Everything the aye-aye said is true! Star creatures have come to Earth. They’ve come to attack us!”

  The fox raised an eyebrow at the sugar glider. “Slow down, Bismark. We know only one thing right now: these animals ate something poisonous.”

  The pangolin swallowed hard and tried his best to look calm. But as his eyes darted anxiously toward the animals’ swollen stomachs, he couldn’t help but glance down at his own. A faint growl rose through its smooth, gray skin. He hoped the sound meant that he was simply in need of a meal.

  Tobin turned to the bandicoot. “Your mouths…it felt like they were on fire, you said?”

  The bandicoot and her babies nodded. “And it felt like flames in our throats, too,” said the mother.

  “And then burning hot pangs in our tummies!” said one of the babies.

  “Little creatures—so foolish,” began Bismark. “I would never have eaten the fruit! And neither would my compadres. Everyone knows you can’t trust anything that looks less than perfecto. That’s why I always trust myself!” The sugar glider smoothed the fur on his scalp and shot a wink at the fox.

  “It’s never wise to eat something that appears unusual,” agreed Dawn. “I’m glad I stopped you,” she said to Tobin. “Those pomelos could have been poisoned, too.”

  Tobin’s scales shuddered with dread. Then, while Dawn and Bismark continued to question the bandicoot mother, the pangolin crept over to the babies.

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” he whispered, glancing at his preoccupied friends, “how much did you eat?”

  “Well,” began one, “we all shared a wedge.…”

  “… so maybe five bites each?” said another.

  “Are you for real, amigo?” demanded Bismark, suddenly popping up beside Tobin’s snout. “Thinking about your stomach at a time like this? Mon dieu, you’re truly consumed with consumption…eager about eating …fiendish about food! These tots could be barfing their brains out, and you’d still be planning a snack.”

  But Tobin just sighed with relief. Five bites for these baby bandicoots would be equivalent to an entire pomelo for him. And he’d barely taken a taste. Plus, his stomach didn’t hurt. He had nothing to worry about, he reasoned.

  “Five bites each?” The bush kangaroo hopped forward and joined the group. “You lil’ mates must feel awful!” He shook his head in dismay. “I barely ate any, and I got as sick as a snake in a sandstorm!”

  Tobin gulped. “Barely any?” he asked.

  The kangaroo nodded. “One little bite and I knew something was wrong. My mouth was burning hot. I stopped right after that. And I
felt all right…at first. But soon I started to sweat. Then everything ached. And then came the worst.” The kangaroo’s face crumpled in agony. “My insides started to swell and burn. Like a raging fire, I tell you!”

  “But…you seem alright now,” insisted Tobin. “You hopped over just fine!”

  “Well, bien sûr! What’d you expect?” Bismark threw a flap around the kangaroo’s back. The glider lifted his chin with pride. “How many times have I told you, amigos: we marsupials are the strongest animals in the forest! Invincible, I say! Immune to sickness, disease, even death!” The sugar glider puffed out his chest. “Poison? Pah! More like peanuts, I’d say. ’Tis nothing to the mighty marsupial!”

  “I wish you were right, mate,” said the kangaroo, “but alas, I doubt even the biggest, strongest animal in the forest could handle this poison. It felt the same way the time I ate poisoned mushrooms. Anyway, one taste of this fruit and my pouch blew up. Three times the size, I’d say. Looked like it might explode…that is, until I ate some blue flowers.”

  At this, Dawn’s ears pricked on end. “You mean the blue flowers with the deep orange centers?” she asked. “The ones with the blue petals and blue leaves?”

  “Yes,” said the kangaroo. “Those are the ones. They work like magic…though I still don’t feel quite like myself—a couple hops and I’m wiped. Unfortunately, I only had a few blossoms. Left over from the time I ate those poisoned mushrooms. Nearly died from those, too.”

  Nearly died? Tobin’s heart began to pound.

  “Those petals do work like magic,” said Dawn. “They can flush almost anything out of your system.” She eyed the group of sick animals. “We must find more now for everyone to eat.”

  “That’s what we’ve been trying to do,” said the bandicoot mother. “But it’s the strangest thing: we haven’t been able to find them! We’ve checked all the usual places, but everywhere we look, the flowers are gone!”

  “Maybe other sick animals got there first?” offered Tobin.

  “Maybe…” said the bandicoot, “but we’ve all been sticking together. Plus, there should be more than enough flowers for everyone. They usually grow in huge fields.”