The Hidden Kingdom. Tracey Hecht

he said with a sigh. “I see something out there. But it all just looks fuzzy to me.”

      “Exactly,” said Dawn. A gust of wind began to blow. As its speed picked up, the fuzzy spots Tobin had seen moved closer. At once, Dawn bolted toward them. “I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder.

      “What is she doing?” asked Tobin. “What’s that she’s running to?”

      “I hate to admit it, amigo,” said Bismark, “but I don’t know. It appears that this despicable dryness has taken its toll on the sheen of my coat and on my eyesight! It’s all a blur, I tell you. A fuzzy blur!” He craned his neck. “Though my lovely Dawn remains clear as ever.”

      Starry-eyed, Bismark kept his gaze fixed on the fox until she returned with a tan, hay-like ball about the size of a large pumpkin. With her snout, the fox gently nudged it toward her two friends.

      Tobin smiled. His eyes hadn’t failed him after all! It was fuzz—or a tumbleweed to be more precise. He should have known: tangles of it entered the valley each ________

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      The Parched Pangolin

      dry season. He sniffed it just to be sure. “Tumbleweed,” he confirmed. “It looks strange, though.”

      “Yes,” agreed Dawn. “I was thinking the same thing this evening when I first saw it. It’s unlike any tumbleweed we’ve seen before.” The fox circled the grassy ball. “Its seeds and sticks appear different.”

      “Blech!” Bismark sputtered. “I detest tumbleweeds—the old kind and the new!” The sugar glider glowered at the odd, fuzzy ball. “Prepare to fight, you messy menace, you sticky stranger, you ugly orb!”

      With that, Bismark reeled back his leg and punted the tumbleweed with a mighty kick, sending it bouncing into the clearing.

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      THE NOCTURNALS

      Eeeeee!

      Suddenly, a shrill shriek pierced the air. The trio looked at one another in alarm.

      “Was that you, my parched pangolino?” asked Bismark. “You have been known to emit strange sounds…but I haven’t heard that one before.”

      “Oh goodness, no,” replied Tobin. The pangolin blushed. He did have an active rear, tooting from time to time and letting out a potent, defensive odor when he got scared. But this time, Tobin had not done a thing. “It really wasn’t me,” he said.

      “Then what was it?” asked Bismark.

      The sugar glider and the pangolin turned to Dawn. She always seemed to know the answer to unusual questions like this. But even the fox looked confused. She took a step forward and studied the land. Then, with pricked ears and a craned neck, she listened more closely.

      The scream-like sound came right from the clearing—not far from where they stood. But there was no trace of anyone there. So where, they all wondered, had it come from?

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      Chapter Two

      HELP!

      “Yoo-hoo!” called Bismark, cupping his hands to his mouth. “Who goes there?” The sugar glider wove through the thin line of trees that framed the clearing, seeking out the strange voice.

      “Hola? Bonne nuit? Saluto?” Bismark called out yet again. “Show yourself, shrieky stranger. Do not be scared. Come to your Papa Bismark!”

      The others, too, were searching. Dawn circled the clearing’s boundary and Tobin sniffed at dirt and roots, hoping to pick up a scent. When he failed to find anything, he lifted his head and called out into the dark.

      “Hello?” The pangolin closed his eyes, listening closely for a reply. Normally, the valley was loud with the stirring of animals. But tonight, it was eerily quiet. Many creatures had left in search of food and water, and more were on their way out. Now, all Tobin could ________

      17

      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!

      18

      Help!

      Right as Tobin’s rear hit the earth, a muffled shriek rang out again…and this time, it sounded like a cry of pain!

      The pangolin quickly leaped to his feet and looked frantically every which way.

      “Ah-ha! It was you!” Bismark shouted triumphantly, pointing at Tobin’s rear. “I knew it! This better not be a sign that your stinker’s about to blow!” The sugar glider plugged his tiny nose with one paw and fanned the air with the other.

      “That wasn’t me—I promise!” said Tobin. “I think the noise came from the forest.”

      Bismark scoffed, but the pangolin ignored his friend. He tilted his head toward the trees then gazed into their shadows. The forest was always dark,

      but tonight Tobin thought it felt even darker

      than usual. The pangolin gulped. Could

      some dangerous creature be lurking

      in the woods? Nervously, Tobin

      glancedbackathisfriends.

      “Something must be out there,”

      he whispered.

      “Come on, muchacho.

      We all heard it,” said Bismark.

      “That noise came straight from

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      THE NOCTURNALS

      your rear. It was as clear as the full moon! Dawn, mon amour, am I right?”

      “It wasn’t me,” insisted the pangolin. “Really.” But even the fox raised a questioning eyebrow. After all, she had heard the shriek come directly from Tobin’s behind, too.

      “Maybe our hearing isn’t quite right. Maybe this dry weather is going to our heads,” she said, trying to make Tobin feel better.

      “Or our butts,” Bismark muttered.

      Tobin opened his mouth to protest. But before he could speak, a cry rang out.

      “Help! Hellllpppp!”

      Dawn’s fur pricked on end. Bismark stood still as stone. And Tobin’s scales began to tremble. This scream was different from the ones they’d just heard. The words were clear—someone was in trouble, and the voice sounded familiar.

      Without a word, the animals drew out their glittering, blue snakeskin capes—the cloaks they