The Nocturnals. Tracey Hecht
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the creature. The hair on her back stood up in wiry spikes.
“Be careful, mia bella!” cried Bismark, clasping his heart with both hands.
But Dawn was too late. The mysterious animal had disappeared into the dark woods.
“Everyone, stay on guard,” said the fox. She had no doubt that the creature was hiding nearby, watching them still. Her eyes darted over the brush, searching for any sign of the long-tailed spy. “And if anyone sees or hears something unusual, give the following call.” Dawn raised her head and yowled a high-pitched note.
The others nodded.
“Like this?” asked Cora. “Arooo.”
“No time to be shy!” declared Bismark. “A real howl is born from the gut. Now listen and learn.” The sugar glider took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and yodeled into the night.
“Yes,” said the bats. “With chutzpah!”
“Blurghhhh,” Tobin gurgled.
“No, no, no,” said the sugar glider. “Much too much throat.”
“Blurghhhh!” The pangolin continued to gurgle. He was growing red in the face.
Cora looked at her friend with concern. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“The call!” said Tobin. “I’m making the call. Look!” The pangolin pointed toward the tree line ahead. Waddling out of the leaves were two flightless birds. With their fuzzy brown feathers and little round bodies, they resembled a pair of coconuts.
“Plump prowlers of the night!” yelled the sugar glider. “Explain your presence at once!”
The birds bumbled toward the group.
“My name is Burt,” said the smaller of the two. “And this here is Becka, my wife. We were simply searching for food.”
“Humph!” exclaimed Bismark. “Searching for victims, more like it!”
The fox shook her head at the sugar glider’s distrust. It was clear that these kiwi birds posed no threat. “I apologize,” she said, speaking on her friend’s behalf.
“Oh, it’s okay,” said Becka. “Everyone seems on edge in these dangerous times.”
Dawn’s ears stood erect. “Dangerous times?”
“Oh, yes,” replied Burt. “Terrible, these nappings. Just terrible.”
Cora stepped forward, eyes wide. “Nappings? You know of them, too?”
The kiwi birds nodded. “How could we not?” replied Burt. “Seems like everywhere you go, animals are missing.”
Becka nodded. “Twenty-two years, we’ve been together. Twenty-two years, and twenty-two tots. Chose this place for the kids. A family area, a peaceful place. And now…” Tearfully, she buried her beak in Burt’s feathered breast. “Well, I’m just worried sick!”
“There, there, Peaches. There, there,” whispered Burt. “You just let it all out.” Tenderly, the bird stroked his wife’s head. Then he turned back toward the Brigade. “We’ve lost so many,” he said. “So many dear friends.”
“Twelve,” said Becka, raising her face from Burt’s chest. “Just last night, my cousin Bailey was taken!” The kiwi burst into sobs.
Burt lowered his feathered head. “You’re down at Patterson Pond, minding your own business, looking for worms in the mud,” he sighed. “And the next thing you know…whomp! Gone.”
The wombat groaned, and scrunched her eyes shut. Tobin rested his paw on her shoulder.
“Wait,” said Dawn, approaching the birds. “What was that you just said?”
Burt looked in her eyes. “Whomp!” he repeated, this time with more force.
“No, no,” muttered Dawn. “The other thing. About the pond.”
“Oh!” said Burt, clearing his throat. “Right. Yes. Like I said, poor Bailey was just down by Patterson Pond. You know, the one near the coyote dens. That’s where all the plump worms live.” The kiwi bowed his head. “Those delicious, delicious worms.”
“Tragic,” said Becka. “Digging in the mud one minute, disappeared the next. Absolutely tragic.”
“Tragic, yes,” said Dawn, but the fox looked preoccupied. As if pulled by an invisible string, she was drawn toward the river. The others followed.
“What is it?” Tobin asked, joining the fox.
“Patterson Pond,” she said. She stared at the opposite bank, lost completely in her thoughts.
A cool breeze blew through the grass, sending a chill down Tobin’s spine.
Dawn turned back toward the birds. “Why don’t you two go check on your children?” she said. “Thank you for sharing your story. You’ve been very helpful.”
The kiwis nodded and then, side-by-side, shuffled back toward the woods.
Dawn looked at Bismark, Tobin, and Cora. Her Brigade-mates stared back at her, waiting for instruction.
“We must cross the river,” she said, her voice determined and strong, “and make our way toward the pond.”
“Toward the pond?” said Bismark. “You mean, toward the coyotes!” His eyes bulged out of his head. “Have you gone loco, my lady?”
Tobin shuddered. The coyotes were crafty, cruel killers with big appetites. But he knew they had to find Joe, and now the missing kiwi birds, too. “Let’s go,” he said, forcing himself to sound brave.
Everyone nodded. Although they were scared of what they might find across the river, something told them Dawn had a plan.
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