Читать книгу The Hidden Kingdom - Tracey Hecht - Страница 12

THE NOCTURNALS

hear were the sounds of the night—the low hum of the breeze, the crackling dry leaves, and the faint wisp of tumbleweeds sweeping over the grass.

“Any luck?” asked Dawn, joining Tobin near an old stump.

“Oh goodness,” he sighed. “I’m afraid not.”

“No luck here either,” said Bismark, gliding next to the fox. “But nothing to worry about, I’m sure. You know…” he mused, turning to Tobin, “that sound probably was you after all. All that water sloshing around your guts.” Bismark put his hands on his hips and shook his head from sid to side. “Tsk-tsk, pangolino. I told you to save some for moi!”

“Really, it wasn’t me!” Tobin insisted. He blinked his eyes to clear his vision, which had suddenly grown blurry. “Maybe we’re just imagining things,” he said. “I do feel a bit faint from this heat.” The pangolin pressed his eyes shut again and swallowed hard.

“Tobin, are you okay?” asked Dawn.

“Oh…oh goodness, yes,” he replied. “I’m just a little…a little bit…oof!”

The woozy pangolin lost his balance, tipped backward and fell with a soft thud—onto a pile of dried grass and sticks.

Eeeeee!

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