The Hidden Kingdom. Tracey Hecht
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>Copyright © 2018 by Fabled Films LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced
in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the
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Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10003.
Published by Fabled Films LLC, New York
ISBN: 978-1-944020-11-8
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017951811
First Edition: February 2018
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Cover Designed by Jaime Mendola-Hobbie
Interior Book Design by Notion Studio
Typeset in Stemple Garamond, Mrs. Ant and Pacific Northwest
Printed by Everbest in China
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To the Hidden Kingdom of Fabled Films Press,
Stacey, Nicole, Gisselle, Lisette, Jerry
You make our magic happen!
Chapter One
THE PARCHED PANGOLIN
“Oh goodness.” Tobin yawned and gazed up at the evening sky. The stars and moon were shining—it was time for his nightly adventure. But after a day of tossing and turning in the scratchy leaves of his burrow, the pangolin awoke tired, hungry, and thirsty. It was the valley’s dry season. There was little to eat or drink. And Tobin, known for eating a bit more food than most, was having an especially difficult time. Tonight, his throat was parched, his belly grumbled…and adventure was the furthest thing from his mind.
The pangolin stretched his anteater-like body. His eyes felt scratchy in the dry night air, and his leaf-like scales were cracked and creased, like the skin of a crocodile.
Tobin sighed then set off in search of even the tiniest snack or sip. He slowly trudged toward the bushes, sniffing the ground with his sensitive snout. ________
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THE NOCTURNALS
Usually, he could smell all kinds of things—the dew-covered petals of daffodils, the tangy rinds of oranges, the musky bark of big oaks. But recently, he could smell only dry earth and brown grass, scorched to death by the heat.
Except…wait a moment. Tobin’s snout suddenly perked up. “Could it be?” Somehow, he had picked up a trace of moisture—the scent, he believed, of damp rock. Tobin’s pace quickened into an eager trot. His mind danced with visions of flowing water, lush moss, and juicy termites.
He traveled just a short distance, but he was breathless when he reached his destination—a narrow opening in a wall of rock. The pangolin grinned—he had been right. There was water here. It wasn’t exactly flowing from the crack. Actually, it was barely trickling. But it was water nonetheless.
Tobin closed his eyes and uncurled his long tongue—so long, in fact, that he kept it coiled inside his stomach when he wasn’t using it. But now, he stretched it to its full, remarkable length, eager to catch the next drop.
“Hey! Pangolino!” Before even a single, cool drip could land on Tobin’s parched tongue, he heard a loud, shrill voice calling to him from above.
10
The Parched Pangolin
Tobin gazed up. Perched high on a tree branch was his friend Bismark, a sugar glider—a tiny marsupial similar to a flying squirrel. Like Tobin, Bismark was nocturnal: awake by night, asleep by day. And, like Tobin, Bismark was hungry and thirsty.
The sugar glider spread his flaps—the stretchy skin that connected his arms and legs. Then, with a graceful leap, he glided down from his tree and joined his friend on the ground. “Have you seen what the drought has done to my poor pomelos?” he asked. Bismark opened his paws, revealing a lumpy fruit with a dark, shriveled rind.
Tobin shook his head. This was very upsetting. The grapefruit-like pomelos that grew on his friend’s tree were usually plump and juicy.
“And it’s not just my favorite fruit that has withered,” moaned Bismark. “Look at me! Never has my soft, gray fur been so drab, so dreary, so dry.” With an impatient shove, the sugar glider pushed Tobin aside. “Out of the way, pangolino!” he ordered, jumping in front of the crack in the rock. “I need water, too!” Then he closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and tilted back his head. As a droplet of water fell onto his tongue, Bismark shuddered in delight. He spread his legs wide and dug his tiny heels in the ground, positioning himself for the ________
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THE NOCTURNALS
next spurt of water. But alas—no more came. The trickle had come to an abrupt halt.
“What? Qué? Quoi?” The sugar glider pounded his fist on the stone, urging the water to flow. But all that seeped from the crack was a fine mist of dust that settled on his nose and prompted a sharp, high-pitched sneeze.
“This is unacceptable, unsatisfactable, un-stinking-fair!” Bismark sputtered, stomping his feet in outrage. He turned to Tobin. “You think that one little droplet is enough for this breathtaking body…this fabulous physique?” The sugar glider flexed his small muscles. Then, he spun on his toes in a circle, attempting to show himself off.
“Um….” Tobin’s voice trailed. There was no use in telling Bismark that, judging by size alone, he didn’t need that much water.
“Really, compadre, in the name of the night,” Bismark continued, “why did you steal all the water from your best and most brilliant amigo, hmm?”
“Oh goodness…I…I didn’t even have one—” Tobin stopped when he heard soft footsteps nearby. He knew the sound of those paws. The pangolin turned toward the brush. Sure enough, a fox emerged with a quiet rustle. It was his friend Dawn.
Immediately, Bismark scampered alongside the
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The Parched Pangolin
fox. “My bella Dawn, my sweet, mon amour—you’ve awakened! And, behold: my thirst has been quenched after all. Your radiant, red fur can brighten even the driest and darkest of evenings!”
Tobin smiled. Dawn was the leader of the Nocturnal Brigade—the group the three friends had formed to rescue animals in need of their help. And Bismark was right—she could bring comfort and light, even in the most difficult times. But the sugar glider’s not-so-secret love for the fox was affecting his vision—though Dawn always looked poised and polished, her fur was more dull than radiant at the moment. Even the strongest animals of the valley, like the fox, were hurt by the drought. Especially droughts as severe as this one.
Dawn cleared her throat with a raspy cough.
“Oh, mon amour! You sound totally parched. You know…” Bismark mused, stroking the fur on his chin, “I managed to find a little sip of water just before you arrived. It’s gone now,” he continued, shooting Tobin a glare. “But I think there miiiiight still be a little moisture left on my lips….” The sugar glider gazed up at Dawn. He batted the lids over his dark, bulbous eyes. Then he stood as tall as he could on his tiptoes and pressed his lips into a pucker.
But the fox barely noticed her friend’s antics. Her ________
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THE NOCTURNALS
amber