Читать книгу The Fallen Star - Tracey Hecht - Страница 9
Оглавление“Oomph!”
Tobin groaned. Then he peeled his sensitive eyes open and cringed. The pangolin had taken quite a nasty tumble. His skull was throbbing, and his limbs felt stiff and sore as he gingerly uncurled his body. He had rolled into a tight ball before hitting the ground—this was the position he took whenever he felt frightened or threatened. But now he sat upright, taking a deep breath and scanning his surroundings nervously.
“Dawn? Bismark?” he called into the darkness.
Tobin looked in every direction but saw only piles of fallen branches and brush. Three nearby trees had been uprooted whole, and several large boulders had tumbled forward, careening into each other. What happened? the pangolin wondered, rubbing his head, his thoughts cloudy. Then he remembered: the falling star! He frantically looked to the sky.
But now, all seemed calm. The full moon was hanging serenely above the forest. The stars that circled it were twinkling, not falling. Tobin exhaled.
“Oh goodness,” he murmured with relief. But then he realized that the moon was hanging high in the sky, even though it had been nearly sunup before the fallen star had crashed to earth. That meant the whole day had passed! Had he really been unconscious that long? The pangolin’s heart started to race.
“Dawn? Bismark?” he called out again, this time with more urgency. There was no sign of his friends. He dug at the piles of debris, searching for them. Rocks, clods of dirt, and grass shot out behind him. “Oh goodness! Where is everyone?” he whimpered as he moved among the rubble.
“Tobin?” a voice called out.
The pangolin froze. Someone was burrowing out of a pile of leaves and branches near one of the fallen trees. Someone with tawny fur and a familiar, white-tipped tail.
“Dawn!” he cried. The pangolin raced over to help free his friend. Then he brushed the leaves off her coat.
Dawn shook the remaining leaves from her limbs. She took note of the moonlight and narrowed her eyes. “An entire day has passed, but we are lucky to be unharmed.” Then, noticing the sugar glider’s absence, her voice tightened. “Tobin, where is Bismark?”
Dawn and Tobin gazed up to search the heights of Bismark’s pomelo tree. Its branches, normally covered with thick leaves and heavy fruit, were almost entirely bare. There was no sign of the glider anywhere.
“Oh goodness!” cried Tobin.
Dawn quickly began to clear the earth, flinging aside the branches and pomelos that littered the forest floor. Tobin, meanwhile, lowered his keen snout to the ground, nostrils flaring. He could track almost anything with his superior sense of smell.
“Bismark! Where are you?” he called as he sniffed. The pangolin gulped. Why wasn’t Bismark answering? Where was the glider’s boisterous voice? His familiar musk? Tobin furiously inhaled the scents along the earth, searching for a sign of his friend.
The pangolin poked his snout into a pile of broken, spear-like sticks. Their jagged ends scratched his nose. “Oh!” he muttered, but then he paused. A whiff of damp fur played over his nostrils. His eyes widened.
“Dawn!” he cried.
The fox sprinted over at once. She grasped the sharp branches in her jaws and cracked them in half while Tobin shoveled branches and dirt behind them. Then, together, they lifted up one last clawful of leaves, and there he was: Bismark, flaps splayed flat, eyes clamped shut, and an angry welt protruding from the bald spot in the center of his head.
“Oh dear!” Tobin cried, bending low toward his friend. “Bismark? Bismark? Wake up!”
The pangolin’s snout was nearly touching the glider’s tiny face. “Bismark, can you hear me?” he asked. After a moment Tobin straightened and looked at the fox, fear welling in his eyes. “Dawn! He’s not answering! Is Bismark…? Is he…?” Tobin swallowed hard. He tried to speak, but he could not utter the rest.
