The Lost Rainforest #2

by Eliot Schrefer

  “I prefer the term nightflyer,” she says.

  “—and me, nightwalker,” Rumi finishes. “Gogi’s the only daywalker here.”

  Gogi looks around, astonished. “I’m useless at night, guys. We’re better off during the day unless you want me bumping into things.”

  “I’m not a shadowwalker like you guys,” Chumba says. “I couldn’t daywalk even if I wanted to.”

  “I might have a solution,” Rumi says, gesticulating wildly. “Gogi, how subtle can you make your fire?”

  “Subtle? Fire’s never exactly subtle.”

  “What I wonder is if you might be able to make a ring of fire around you, so that you could see better at night.”

  “That sounds, um, deadly.”

  “The most subtle, soft fire. Not enough to burn anything. Like concentrated sunlight. After all, light is just fire that’s far from home.”

  “I’m not sure what that last part even means, but I’m up for trying your idea,” Gogi says. “It could work. As long as it doesn’t work by, you know, searing everyone I love to death.”

  Mez gives Gogi a nuzzle. “We’ll travel whenever’s best for everyone in the group. Including our resident daywalker. But we should look into that night-light idea.”

  “Can I ask a question? Okay, good, here it is,” Lima says. “What are we traveling toward? Or traveling from? Hypothetically?”

  They all look at one another, waiting for someone to speak. “That’s a good question,” Chumba finally says.

  They are all quiet, except for licking sounds as Mez and Chumba work to get the moisture out of their fur. Gogi’s never understood how a cat can lick itself dry, but apparently it works. Suddenly Chumba looks up, eyes alert.

  “What is it?” Gogi asks.

  Chumba smiles. “Anyone want to play a game?”

  “No,” Mez says patiently. “We still have important things to discuss.”

  “That’s too bad,” Lima says mournfully. “I’d have played with you. You know how good I was getting at whisker taunt. And I don’t even have whiskers.”

  “Proud of you,” Gogi says.

  “Um, guys, Mez is right. We really do have more important matters to discuss,” Rumi says. “For starters, where is Banu the sloth? Or Calisto the trogon? Or Sorella the uakari?”

  “Maybe they’re . . . late?” Lima says quietly.

  “It could be as simple as that,” Rumi says, nodding gravely. “But I think we might be wise to assume the worst—that we have all survived the year to make it here only because the Ant Queen hasn’t yet reached our homelands. Now, let’s think: What do we all have in common, that we made it here and they did not?”

  “We’re all really good-looking,” Lima offers.

  “Think of it: Usha’s territory, the capuchin palm forest, the ruins . . . We all spent the past year in the west half of Caldera!” Rumi says.

  “Question. What does ‘west’ mean?” Lima asks.

  “Shh, let him finish,” Gogi says, tucking the bat in close. “But yeah, what’s ‘west’ mean, Rumi?”

  The tree frog shakes his head sadly. “I see that I have to start further back than I thought.” They all huddle close as he picks up a dried seedpod and starts scratching with it in the dirt. “Based on my studies of the two-leg carvings, this is a rough map of Caldera. The ruins we’re in are near the center; and here’s where you’re from, panthers; and here’s roughly where your cave is, Lima; and, Gogi, this is where the capuchin forest is, in the northern hemisphere.”

  “I just thought of something. If this is Caldera, what’s outside it?” Mez asks.

  Gogi blinks. He’s never considered that there could be an outside to Caldera.

  “I have no idea,” Rumi says. “I don’t know if anyone alive in Caldera knows. If the two-legs had that knowledge, it went with them.”

  “Okay, then, what’s at the edge of Caldera?” Mez asks.

  Rumi shrugs. “Believe me, I’d love to know. But there’s nothing in the ziggurat carvings to tell us.”

  “Tell them about all that ellipse-eclipse stuff you figured out, Rumi!” Gogi says.

  “I will, I will. But first things first—since we’re the only shadowwalkers to make it back here, I think we can assume that the rumors are true, that the Ant Queen’s armies are moving in from the east.”

  “I saw them in the distance,” Gogi says. “If I’m not totally turned around, the marmoset lands might have been toward that ‘east’ place you’re talking about.” He scratches his head. He might know exactly where each tree in his homeland is, and precisely when they fruit, but this larger-scale mapping makes his monkey brain hurt.

  Mez’s ears, which had perked up at the mention of the coming eclipse, lower flat against her head. “That’s a pretty grim conclusion, that the other shadowwalkers have already succumbed to the ants. Let’s hope there’s some other explanation.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m right,” Rumi says.

  “Well, you can’t be sure you’re right,” Gogi gently corrects.

  “No, I’m almost completely certain,” Rumi says. His eyes flick upward, past where the foliage of the den’s roof locks in.

  “Is there something you’re not telling us?” Gogi asks.

  “Of course not,” Rumi says.

  But Gogi saw the moment of calculation pass over his friend’s face. Gogi might not be the smartest member of the group, but no one beats a capuchin for emotional awareness. There’s no doubting it anymore: Rumi has a secret.

  “RUMI, IS EVERYTHING okay?” Gogi asks. “It just seems like maybe, maybe, you’re not being totally—”

  “Everything’s fine, of course everything’s fine, why wouldn’t everything be fine?” Rumi sputters.

  “I don’t know, friend, it’s just that it seems like there’s something off,” Gogi says as gently as possible.

  “Something’s off with Rumi? What do you mean?” Mez asks, sniffing the ground around the little tree frog.

  “He looks okay,” Lima says. “Well, sort of okay. Or maybe not okay at all.”

  Actually, Rumi looks miserable. He’s hunched down low, membranes over his eyes and chin pressed into his clasped fingers.

  “Are you okay, Rumi?” Lima asks.

  He lets out a long and low croak and pulls the membranes back from over his inky eyes. “Well, the truth is that I guess I have something to tell you all. I just need you to promise not to flip out when I do. Promise you’ll hear me out.”

  Lima springs into the air, does a somersault, and lands back down. She bows. “There. I’ve already flipped out. Nothing to worry about now.”

  “Rumi, what’s going on?” Mez growls.

  “There’s someone that I think you guys should meet. It turns out we misunderstood him a year ago, and I’ve come to get to know him over this past year. . . . I should start at the beginning,” Rumi says.

  “Or maybe you could stop delaying and spit it out,” Mez says, her voice still a growl. “That would also be a good idea.”

  Gogi would trust Mez with his life, but having a panther growling so nearby still sets his heart racing. He tries to make his hand stop trembling as he places it on Rumi’s back, before hastily removing it when he remembers that the frog exudes poison under pressure. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for all of this,” Gogi says.

  “So, you remem-ember how Auriel seemed like a friendly little boa constrictor at first?” Rumi stammers. “Be-before he turned out to be horribly evil?”

  “Yes,” Chumba says dryly, “it’s hard to forget that.”

  “I never trusted him from the start,” Lima says. “I always knew something was off about that snake.”

  “That is so not true!” Mez says. “I was there, remember? You were all ‘ooh, your scales are so pretty, I wonder if they taste good, I’ll go anywhere you say.’”

  “I was not!” Lima squeaks.

  “Come on, let’s give Rumi a chance to tell us what he has to tell us,” Gogi says. “Go a
head, Rumi. We’re listening.”

  “Well, just like we misunderstood Auriel, I think we also misunderstood this other . . . creature.”

  Gogi shoots Mez a look that says, Are you thinking what I’m thinking? She seems confused more than anything; then her eyes widen and she narrows her eyes at Rumi, ears flat against her head and teeth exposed. Mist.

  Lima’s the one to speak first, though. “Are you friends with the Ant Queen?!”

  “No, no, nothing like that,” Rumi says, staring into his hands. “After you all left I was very lonely. I was researching the carvings all day, figuring out what I could about the two-legs and what they knew, when I started to feel this . . . presence. Not like the howler monkeys that were hunting us last year, but something . . . observing me. It felt like I was in the company of a friend, even though I didn’t even know who it was. Does that make any sense?”

  Gogi nods. “Kind of.”

  “It could easily have been something tricking you,” Mez says, her growl going ever lower. Gogi jumps, despite himself.

  “Yes, of course. But I don’t think it was,” Rumi says, “and I’ll tell you why. Eventually I made a plan. For many nights I’d been doing the rounds of the carvings, walking through them in the same order. Deliberately. I wanted to lull whoever was following me, you see, into thinking they would always know my next steps. But finally I whirled around instead of going forward like I normally would do, and I—I caught him!”

  “Caught who?” Rumi’s friends say in unison.

  “Oh,” Rumi says, blinking in surprise. “Have I not said yet? I’m sorry. It’s—wait, what was that?”

  Gogi groans. But Rumi was right to go silent—there was a strange noise outside. A creaking sound has turned into a crash, then voices.

  “Does anyone know what that was?” Chumba whispers.

  “No,” Rumi whispers back. “After the ziggurat fell, the animals that were hunting us dispersed. I’ve been basically by myself since then.”

  “So, who’s out there?”

  They all stare up at the interlocking fronds of the den, dust swirling down in the close air.

  “Let’s go investigate, guys,” Gogi says. He marshals his courage, springs to his feet, and promptly bangs his head on an overhanging root. “Ow!”

  Low and silent, Mez takes over the lead, followed soon after by Chumba. Gogi takes up the rear, after Rumi, who’s still quivering. “Hey, it’s okay, Rumi, we’ll get all this sorted out,” Gogi says.

  Lima whistles to herself as she picks her way through the greenery. “I’m hoping it’s Banu. I just adore that sloth. So handsome.”

  Gogi follows the bright yellow blur of Rumi’s back as he hops along, all of them tracking the scent of Mez’s pantherfear. Once they’re out in the moonlit rainforest, the group goes still.

  The distant voice is back, but then it cuts off again before Gogi can make out any words. Gogi looks to Rumi to see if he recognizes it, but the tree frog seems perplexed. His eyes reflect the moon.

  Mez disappears. She was close to gone before, with her dark calico fur, but now she’s truly invisible. It’s the magical power that the eclipse gave her, back when she was born.

  “Wow!” Gogi says. “You’ve gotten even better at that invisibility thing.”

  “I’ll go investigate,” says the open space where Mez just was. “Then I’ll report back on what I’ve found.”

  “No way,” Gogi says flatly. “If you run into trouble, you’ll need my fire.”

  “And my teeth,” Chumba growls.

  “And my wind,” Rumi says.

  “And my healing!” Lima squeaks. They all turn to stare at her. “What, come on, it’s useful too! It just happens to be useful after the fight.”

  “Okay, we’ll go together,” Mez says, still invisible. “But let me at least go a few paces ahead, so I can warn you all of any danger.”

  Gogi nods. They hold still. “Wait, did she already start?”

  “Yep,” Chumba says. “I can track her by scent alone now. We’ve been practicing this trick during our year off. Follow me!”

  “Look at those two noble sisters, spending their year off working hard on their saving-the-world skills,” Gogi says, suddenly self-conscious about his own year spent eating palm nuts and fretting over his rank.

  “Before we go,” Rumi says, puffing as he hauls a small rock through the mud, “would you help me make an arrow of rocks? I want to let the other shadowwalkers know where we’ve headed as they arrive.”

  “Sure, buddy,” Gogi says. He joins Rumi in hurriedly placing a half-dozen rocks in an arrow shape, glad that he’s able to locate enough that he doesn’t have to give up any of his precious twelve pebbles.

  They hurry to catch up to the panther sisters. Mez leads them on a wide circuit of the ruins. Or at least Gogi assumes it’s still Mez leading them, as he can see only Chumba, and that just barely. As the sole daywalker in the group, he’d better get working quickly on Rumi’s ring-of-light idea. He probably already has minor brain damage from all the times he’s conked his head on various rocks and low-hanging branches during their adventures.

  Although he knows it might reveal them in the nighttime, he allows himself to create a small flame in his palm—just a lick, really!—in order to prevent himself from tripping over a rock and making a ruckus and exposing them all.

  On the far side of the ruins, Gogi begins to hear a muffled roaring, what at first he takes to be a river. But making mental maps of things he’s seen is a monkey’s strong suit, and Gogi is sure that there was no river in this direction before. And rivers don’t generally appear out of nowhere.

  The air in front of Gogi shimmers, making him leap in fright. Then it resolves into the shape of a familiar panther. Mez’s face is grim. “We’re going to the next rise over. You all have to see this for yourselves.” Her eyes widen in alarm as she sees Gogi’s fire. “Gogi. Put that out! The moonlight will have to be enough. Do you want to let the enemy know exactly where to find us?”

  “Let what enemy know?” Gogi grumbles beneath his breath.

  Lima streaks into the sky so she can see what Mez is talking about. “Wow!” she calls from above, chirping in surprise. Then she lands and claps her wing over her mouth. “Sorry!”

  Mez leads Chumba, Rumi, and Gogi along a dark alley through the greenery until they’re on a small rocky rise, looking out over a misty valley.

  At first Gogi thinks he’s seeing a muddy pool at the far end, but then he realizes that the area is swarming with ants. The roaring sound he heard before? Ants. That many ants. He shudders.

  It looks like a flash flood, like a foaming crest of invading water. Up to a point there is unmarred green, trees and bushes in perfect health. Then there’s a line, after which the green is gone. Simply gone. “Just like the marmoset forest,” Gogi whispers.

  Lima lands lightly beside Gogi. “It’s terrible. The ants are destroying everything.”

  She’s right. The line of ants appears motionless, but that’s only because it’s creeping forward at such a slow pace. Gogi squints. At the front, where there are no more trees to block the moon’s light, he can see the ants using their millions of sharp little mandibles to slice through grass and fern and tree, the leaves disintegrating and becoming sprays of green morsels, rippling back over the horde. In front of the ants is the rainforest, unbroken and seemingly eternal. Behind them is a swarming mass of brown, broken earth and glinting ant bodies.

  “Look. A hoatzin. And a fer-de-lance,” Chumba says under her breath.

  Heart dropping, Gogi peers far back into the mass of ants. The first thing he sees is the fer-de-lance, a pit viper swarming through. The ants let it pass unfettered, parting for the snake wherever it moves. Farther along, Gogi sees a hoatzin, a magnificent bird with clawed legs and a ridge of orange plumes running along the back of its head. The hoatzin, too, has a wide-open space around it, as the ants circle. Before Gogi’s eyes, the hoatzin kneels in the soil and lowers its beak to the gro
und. The ants swarm onto it, soon covering the bird in moonlit browns and purples. Once it’s covered, the hoatzin takes off, soaring to the top of a nearby palm. Then the ants pour off its feathers and into the tree’s fronds, where they start right in on sawing away, bringing leaves and chunks of bark raining down to the horde below.

  “The hoatzin—it’s helping the ant army,” Gogi says.

  “And now the fer-de-lance is too,” Rumi says. “Look!”

  The snake has made its way to a brook, where the ants are milling, the unfortunate ones at the edge pushed in by the pressing swarm and swept off by the current. Once the fer-de-lance reaches the edge, it threads into the water, slowly making its way until its head reaches the far bank. There it loops its neck around an overhanging root and pulls its body tight so it’s strung across the water.

  “It’s made itself into a bridge!” Lima says.

  “Shh,” Mez warns as the hoatzin goes alert, peering toward them and tasting the air.

  The ants begin to surge across the fer-de-lance, the viper wincing as more and more of the horde climbs onto its back to reach the far bank.

  “Fascinating,” Rumi says. “It appears that the Ant Queen is not without allies. That she has collaborators among the animals of Caldera.”

  “Why would any animal help her?” Lima asks, wrapping her wings around her.

  “I’m sure there are many potential reasons,” Rumi says, his tone vague. “Helping the Ant Queen could have been the best of some terrible options.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Mez whispers. “I know you’re not saying there’s any possible excuse for helping the Ant Queen destroy the rainforest.”

  “No,” Rumi says hastily. “I’m not trying to say that. It’s just that we don’t know what this hoatzin and fer-de-lance have been through to bring them to this point, that’s all.”

  Once the ants have reached the far side of the fer-de-lance, they set to work sawing into the roots of a tree that overhangs the brook. Eventually, with a groan, the tree tumbles across the water. More of the ants begin to cross, and the fer-de-lance finally releases, slinking back through the brook and curling up to rest on the bank.