Читать книгу The Nocturnals - Tracey Hecht - Страница 10
ОглавлениеDawn, Bismark, and Tobin listened closely, paws cupped to their ears. For a moment, all they could hear was the soft rush of the nearby river and the familiar buzzes and chirps of the night. Suddenly, there was another pained, desperate cry, followed by a scuffle, a thump, and a long, muffled wail. Then all fell silent. Eerily silent.
Dawn’s ears remained pricked in attention. She scanned the land. Fixing her gaze on a tall nearby acacia, the fox straightened her spine. “Bismark,” she said, “could you climb to the top of this tree? We should be able to see what’s going on from up there.”
“Ma cherie,” he replied, puffing his chest. “Does a spring rain cleanse the soul? Does a dove’s song fill the heart? Does the beautiful fox before me ignite every fiber of my being?”
Dawn waited.
“In a flash!” said the sugar glider.
Seconds later, Bismark stood on one of the tree’s highest branches. He gazed at the river below. “Great Scott, I am handsome!” he said, marveling at his reflection.
Spotting a low-hanging limb, Dawn leapt off the ground, hoping she, too, could see more from a higher perch. At first she saw nothing unusual, just the froth of the river’s current and the soft flicker of moonlight on the waves. But then she spotted a long, dark mass, blundering downstream toward them. “What is that?” she wondered.
Quickly, Tobin clambered up the tree’s bark and settled, breathless, next to the fox.
“What do you see, ma cherie?” asked Bismark.
Dawn extended her neck. “I’m not sure.”
Tobin looked at his friend with wide, hopeful eyes. “Is it only a log?” he asked.
Dawn nodded. “Perhaps.” She sat back on her haunches, a little less tense.
“Perhaps is good enough for moi!” said the sugar glider. “You worry too much, my lovely Dawn. The forest is full of screeches and howls. It is the music of the night. No problemo here!”
“Um… excuse me,” started Tobin, self-consciously shifting his weight. “But it seems like we might have a… um… ‘problemo,’ indeed!” The pangolin raised his brows in concern and motioned back toward the river.
The dark mass floated past beneath the tree, revealing itself to be an ordinary log—small leafless branches and coarse bark. However, clinging to the log’s hollowed end was the distinct silhouette of a small, furry creature and the flash of its two terror-filled eyes.
“That animal is in trouble,” Dawn whispered.
“Yes,” Tobin nodded. The current had picked up now, and the creature was frantically splashing downstream.
“Well then,” said Bismark, “I shall bid you adieu!”
“Excuse me?” said Tobin, tilting his chin toward his friend.
“Since I am the bravest soul of us all,” said the sugar glider, “I shall gallantly remain in this tree—in its precarious limbs, at its most perilous pinnacle—while the two of you resolve that, um, teensy trouble down below.” He cleared his throat and stood tall. “Faretheewell!”
“Oh,” said the pangolin, sighing deeply in disappointment. “I suppose I thought a brigade did things together.”
Dawn kept her eyes fixed on the river below, but her voice was clear and strong: “That’s right, Tobin. We are a brigade. We will work as a team.” She shot Bismark a commanding look. “Now, we must hurry! The river current is swift.” She leapt to the ground and raced toward the riverbank.
“We’re coming!” cried Tobin, scrambling headfirst down the tree.
“Indeed!” called the sugar glider. “We are right behind you, my dame!” Bismark stepped to the edge of the branch and directed himself toward Dawn’s fluffy, white tail. He sighed. “The things I will do for this lady fox!” Bismark blew a kiss into the wind, spread his winglike flaps, and launched himself after his friends.
