The Ominous Eye. Tracey Hecht
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pointed uphill, at a boulder with a large hole carved into it. Then she plucked Bismark from her back and bounded toward it, seeking its shelter.
As the trio dashed through the trees toward high ground, the hiss around them turned into a sizzle. Soon, the ground was crackling and popping beneath their paws. Dawn leaped into the hole in the boulder, and Bismark and Tobin followed.
Bismark clutched Dawn’s slender leg while Tobin hesitantly peered past the rock’s edge.
“Oh no,” cried the pangolin. “Look!”
In the distance, a thick veil of steam spiraled through the night air. As the wind picked up speed, the steam billowed toward the three friends. The moon flashed in and out from behind the sheet of white clouds.
Tobin shut his eyes tight, dizzy from the sudden humidity and the rapid changes of light. The scent of rotten eggs filled his sensitive nostrils as the steam spread over the animals and blanketed them in a haze.
The frightened cries of other creatures echoed from beyond the trees. The bushes rustled and shook as animals throughout the valley bolted through the forest in search of safe places to hide. The Brigade, however, held their ground and each other.
Bismark wiped a thick bead of sweat from his brow then fanned himself with the wing-like flaps that connected his arms and legs. “Is it just me,” he gasped, “or is it getting hot out here?”
A low hum rang through the air. The pangolin felt his heart shake as the sound grew to a growl, drowning out everything else.
Then, suddenly, all was still. The ground no longer shook. The air no longer rang. The animals, the branches, the leaves—all fell quiet.
“Phew!” exclaimed Bismark. The sugar glider brushed some loose dirt off his flaps. “What a doozy! That shaking, that groaning, that heat?” He exhaled with great relief. “Muy caliente! At least it’s over…”
BOOM!
A giant blast shook the earth. The ground rocked and the wind roared and the three animals grasped one another in terror. A giant column of smoke rose up from the distant hills. And then, all went black.
“Tobin? Bismark? Where are you?” Dawn struggled to see through the darkness.
A cloud of ash hung in the air, blotting out the light from the stars. Slowly, the ash began to fall, carpeting the ground in a soft layer of gray.
“Oh goodness, I’m right here!” called the pangolin, shuffling toward the sound of Dawn’s voice.
Bismark appeared from under a small pile of cinders. “Mon dieu!” he cried. “What was that rumble, that thunder, that bang?”
“I don’t know, but we must find out,” Dawn said.
“Are you loco, my love?” Bismark coughed. “You want to go toward the big boom?”
Dawn stood tall. “Yes,” she said. Her ears still rang from the blast, making her voice sound hollow and foreign to her. She lowered her gaze to the ground—it was splintered with zigzagging cracks. “Even this far away, there is damage. Who knows how bad it is near the blast?”
Tobin saw the determined face of his leader. Despite his nerves, he nodded in agreement.
“So be it! Bold in adventure, brave in challenge, the Nocturnal Brigade to the rescue!” cried Bismark. With a flourish, he drew out his glittering, blue snakeskin cape—the costume the Brigade wore when they were on a mission. Dawn and Tobin took their capes out, too, and fastened them around their necks. Within a moment, the trio was ready. It was time to keep the Brigade’s promise to protect the animals of the night.
“I think the sound came from that direction,” said Dawn. She pointed toward a mountain in the near distance. “Let’s go.”
The Brigade crept toward the peak. The ground was hot and glowed red with embers. Carefully, the animals plowed their way through the smoldering fields of ash and broken rock.
“Pee-yew!” exclaimed Bismark. “Either Tobin’s scared out of his scales, or this stuff smells like rot!”
“Oh goodness, Bismark—you know that’s not me!” The pangolin squinted, struggling to keep Dawn in sight. Usually, to help his poor eyesight, he tracked the white tip of her tail. But now it, like everything else, was painted a dull shade of gray. “Oof,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “I can’t even see the moon.”
Despite being almost full, the moon was barely a blur, fighting to shine through the clouds of ash. The light that did reach the ground was filtered and flat.
“Everything’s so different. Even the air.” Tobin coughed. He flicked some ash from his paw. “It feels like another planet.”
“A planet of nightmares!” cried Bismark. The sugar glider flapped his way through the dust, attempting to wave it away, but just whipping it into his own face in the process. “What sort of world is this?” he wheezed. “The earth: scorched and lifeless! The air: stinky with fumes! My fur: stripped of its incredible sheen! My eyes: struggling to see my love’s face!” He scoffed. “This is no place for me, mis amigos. I say we turn back!”
Dawn came to a halt.
“Hmm?” Bismark cocked his head. “Have I convinced you?”
“Everyone, stop,” warned the fox. Her voice was sharp and abrupt. “Do not take another step.”
The animals froze. Without their movement stirring the air, some of the ash settled down and the landscape came into view. Right in front of them was the jagged edge of a cliff.
Tobin gazed over the rim and gulped. If not for Dawn, he’d be plummeting over the edge, down, down, down into a deep, dark hole. The pangolin blinked, staring below in disbelief. It looked like a giant angry monster had attacked the earth, leaving a crater as big as a lake.
“Something smashed into the ground,” said the fox. But she could not figure out what it possibly could have been. Curious, Dawn stepped toward the gaping hole and curled her paws over its rim. Then she leaned forward for a better look. Her eyes flashed in alarm.
“Dawn?” Tobin’s tail coiled in fear. Nevertheless, he crept forward, joining the fox at the edge of the crater. With a deep breath, he followed her gaze into the hole. “Oh goodness!” he gasped.
Bismark’s face tightened with frustration. “What could be so interesting that it steals my lovely Dawn’s breath? It must be done away with at once!” Bismark flexed his scrawny muscle, examined it with a satisfied nod, then nudged past Tobin’s rear. “Please, move aside. Allow me, animal extraordinaire, macho marsupial, and your one true love,” he said, winking at the fox, “to conquer whatever might—”
But as he peered down into the giant hole, Bismark’s already bulbous eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. “Holy glider!” he cried. “I cannot believe what my small but extraordinary peepers see!” His heart pounded inside his small ribcage.
At the bottom of the crater, pressed into the dirt, was the outline of an animal so huge and so fearsome, only one word could describe it—BEAST.
“Dawn?”