Arrow

by Samantha M. Clark

“The trikes!” Petari cradled her hand and ran through the charred bushes toward the razed path. Val, Arrow, and the others followed quickly.

  Petari was right. The trikes were sitting patiently by the camp. And the fire hadn’t surrounded them yet.

  “I don’t know how to make it go,” Arrow said.

  “I can figure it out. Come on.” Val jumped into the driver’s seat, while Petari and Arrow took the other seats.

  “You’re not leaving us here.” Storma jumped onto one of the other trikes. “Everyone, get on.” She motioned for the others to load up the machines.

  Luco climbed into the driver’s seat of one, and Safa in another. The rest of the children pushed and pulled to find their own spots.

  “Push the button,” Val shouted to the others, then took off with Petari and Arrow. He maneuvered the trike around the flames, and Arrow shouted directions over the roar of the machine.

  The other trikes followed, heading my way.

  I had felt the fire’s path cleaving toward me. I had begun to prepare. My knowledge, my history, the story of this forest was being shared.

  I was glad Arrow was coming back to me, happy I’d feel his feet on my roots again. But I worried for his safety.

  As soon as his trike barreled to a stop, Arrow climbed off and darted toward my trunk. “Guardian! Guardian!” He threw his arms around me.

  The other trikes pulled up, and the children climbed off. They looked at Arrow embracing a tree. They looked at me. They whispered to one another.

  But Arrow didn’t care. Tears streamed from his face filled with sadness and worry.

  “You’re here!” Rosaman joined them with Ruthie in his backpack, followed by Faive. “What’s going on? All the monkeys suddenly left like their house was on fire.”

  Storma’s eyes hit the ground.

  “There is a fire,” Petari said. “It’s taking over the whole forest, thanks to them.” She pointed at Storma and Mercou.

  Mercou’s eyes were still wide with fear and regret. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know,” he mumbled.

  “What are we going to do?” Rosaman hiked his backpack farther up his shoulders, Ruthie murmuring inside. “Are we leaving?”

  No one answered him, just peered at Arrow, who was searching my branches. “Where’s Curly?”

  “I sent her north with her family. They’re safe.”

  “Good. That’s good.” Arrow wiped the tears from his face. “What are we going to do, Guardian? How are we going to save the forest now?”

  “With the little Anima that’s left, I’m not sure what we can do,” I said.

  Arrow turned to the herd. “You should leave. Run as fast as you can north. Stay together as a group. Find the hole and go back to your Barbs.”

  “What are you going to do?” Petari asked.

  “I’m staying here, in my home.” Arrow collapsed on the ground at the base of my trunk.

  The children glanced at one another, but no one moved.

  “Arrow,” I said, “you must go too. Go with the herd. Go north with Curly.”

  Arrow shook his head, silent tears running down his cheeks. “I failed, Guardian. I failed. I couldn’t save the forest. I couldn’t be like the Forest Dwellers.”

  “No!” I wished I could wrap my branches around my boy, wipe his tears with my leaves. “I asked too much of such a small boy.”

  Arrow gazed up at me. “You believed in me, but I couldn’t fix the magic.” He looked at his arms, one with a hand, one with a pointed end. “I was abandoned because I’m broken.”

  “You might’ve been abandoned once,” I told him, “but to me, you were found.”

  He hugged me again, but his head still hung low.

  “What are you talking about?” Petari tugged on Arrow’s arm until he looked at her. “Look, I don’t know why someone left you by that wall when you were a baby. But it wasn’t because of you. It’s because of them. Seriously, if you’re broken, I must be completely useless.”

  Arrow wiped his tears. “That’s not true.”

  “Dude, you grew up the only human here and figured out how to do all these brill things!” She gestured at the forest around them.

  Seeing the blood-soaked palm leaves on her hand, Arrow stood quickly, ran to the bush near my trunk, then returned with the leaves to help heal Petari’s cut.

  “See what I mean?” Petari said, as Arrow clasped her hand in the crook of his left elbow and began to unwrap the old palms. “You’re amazing at tracking things. You know how to move through the forest without being seen or heard. And you can heal people with a bunch of leaves. That’s more useful than all of us combined.”

  She nodded to the other children, who stood looking at Arrow as though seeing him in a new light.

  “I did have help,” Arrow said, rubbing the blood leaves carefully into the gash on Petari’s hand. “And besides, I don’t know all that stuff about making good soil like Val does.”

  Val smiled. “That’s why we’re a good team.”

  “What’s a team?” Arrow asked, wrapping Petari’s hand with new palm leaves.

  “It’s when people work together.” Petari paused. “And, I’ll admit, I’m not great at that. I wanted you to teach me about the leaves so I wouldn’t need your help. I don’t like needing anyone’s help. I’m always afraid they’ll leave, and I’ll be on my own. But you can do so many things way better than I can. Like this.” She lifted her injured hand.

  “It feels better already.” Petari focused on Arrow’s eyes. “I need you. And right now, this forest needs you. You know it better than anyone, except maybe the Guardian.” She smiled. “I’m not leaving here. There must be something we can do as a team.”

  “I’m not leaving either.” Storma stepped closer. “Tell me what you need.”

  “Me neither,” said Mercou, standing next to Storma.

  “Nor me.” Luco got in line. One by one all the herders moved closer, eyes on Arrow, waiting to know what they could do.

  Flames licked the edges of a large capirona tree south of us. The ground was being scorched.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know,” Arrow said. “If only it would rain. I wish we could call the clouds and make it dump a heap of rain on us.”

  “That’s the kind of request the Anima would help with,” I told him. “You’re thinking like a Forest Dweller now.” Pride rippled through my leaves for this boy, my boy.

  Arrow’s eyes widened. “I am?”

  Petari gazed up at me. “What did she say?”

  Arrow told her, then said, “Maybe that’s what I’ve been missing. Maybe I’ve been asking the Anima for the wrong things. Or asking in the wrong way.”

  “Go on,” Petari said. “Try it again.”

  “I… I don’t know if I can,” Arrow said, not moving.

  Petari flung her arms into the air in exasperation. “Mercou, tell him about that science guy who tried a lot.”

  “Thomas Edison?” Mercou said. “Oh yeah, he got his light bulb wrong thousands of times before he did it right.”

  “Exactly!” Petari said, turning to Arrow. “Have you tried this thousands of different ways yet?”

  Arrow shook his head.

  “Then what are you waiting for? Stop the fire!” Petari stepped back, as though she were giving Arrow space to act.

  The other children stepped back too, perhaps suspicious of the idea of magic and what it would mean.

  “Thousands,” Arrow whispered to himself. “Thousands of tries. Ask for the rain. Dig deep.”

  A tree branch CRACKED a short distance away, then CRASHED to the ground.

  “No pressure or anything,” Storma said, her voice shaky, “but the fire is getting closer.”

  Arrow was trembling, but he got down on his knees and scrabbled in the dirt. Suddenly he stopped and lifted his palm, examining the dry soil in his hand.

  “Maybe I don’t do it like you, Guardian. You dig deep with your roots, but there’s no way humans can dig like that. Maybe we a
ccess the magic by digging deep with our hearts.”

  Petari started nodding rapidly. “Yes, that sounds good. Try that.”

  “Perhaps that’s what the Forest Dwellers meant. We’ll do it together,” I told him. “Me with my roots and you with your heart.”

  Val smiled. And Luco. And Storma. And all the other children.

  Arrow’s lips thinned.

  Kneeling, he placed his palm and the end of his arrow arm on the ground, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

  His emotions rained through his arms and knees deep into the soil. Fear, mixed with love, mixed with courage.

  He thought about the forest, his home, about the animals who lived here, about these children who had accepted him—who believed in him. He thought about the fire, the loss, the grief. He thought about the rain.

  “Please, clouds, come and rain over us. Take out this fire. Save our forest.”

  He held his emotions in his heart, put them all into his request.

  Waited.

  Pleaded.

  Breathed.

  But nothing happened.

  “The rain has been too dried up,” I told him. “We haven’t had clouds for moons. There isn’t enough Anima to create them.”

  Arrow slumped.

  The CRACKLE of fire was louder now. A palm close to us burned up in a poof of flames, then clattered onto its side.

  Petari gasped, her hand over her mouth. She started to step toward Arrow, but Val held her back. “He’ll think of something. You’ll think of something, Arrow.”

  Arrow looked at his new friends. Sorrow poured from him. Despair curled around his toes. He pushed it away and sat up again.

  He thought of all the parts of the forest. He imagined Shimmer Cave, and the giant water lilies, and the river with its powerful waterfall…

  Arrow sat up straighter. “The river! The waterfall! That’s already here. That’s what we need.”

  “Do it! Do it!” Petari jumped up and down.

  “Yes, Arrow,” I said. “Ask.”

  He looked down at the ground, readying himself, then glanced back at me, worry clouding his eyes.

  “But what about all the animals?”

  “I’ll warn them,” I said. “But if you don’t do this fast, they’ll be dead anyway.”

  Arrow nodded, nervousness swirling around him.

  As I sent word to all the residents of the forest to get high, to get safe, Arrow placed his palm and the end of his arrow arm on the ground again, breathed deeply, and closed his eyes.

  “River, we need your water. We need you to save this forest, to banish this fire. Please, River, help us. Send your water over the edges of your beds. Send it to the trees and bushes. Make it douse this…”

  A crackle tugged at my attention. The fire had reached my branches. Flames burning into the leaves and bark. I pushed the pain away. I had to concentrate on the magic. I had to help Arrow bring it up.

  Then, suddenly, my roots tingled. Deep down. The Anima was pulsing in the soil. Pulsing in my roots. I hoped Arrow could feel it too, but in case he couldn’t, I said, “It’s working, Arrow. It’s working!”

  The river had heard. Water sloshed against its banks. I pulled up the magic and sent it that way. Listen to the boy, I told the river. Listen and help. Save the forest.

  “Keep asking, Arrow,” I told him. “Keep asking.”

  And he did. Filling his request with all the love he had for the forest and the creatures living under its canopy. He thought of Curly, playing with her brothers and sisters in the nest. He thought of the sloths, and how the monkeys teased the babies for being slow. He thought of the jaguars and black caimans and anacondas, who were dangerous, but also part of forest life.

  He thought of the trees and flowers and fruit. The acai berries that had made him feel happy whenever he was sad. The malva leaves that had healed rashes. The blood leaves that healed his cuts. The anise that made his stomach better after he’d eaten too many acai berries.

  The river roiled and splashed. The waterfall bucked and swelled.

  “Help us!” Arrow screamed.

  And the water from every finger and leg of the river pulled together. Lifted. Rose into a giant wave. The tip was taller than the towering kapok trees.

  It held there for a breath, two, three.

  Then the wave crashed down and tumbled through the forest.

  The ROAR was louder than any animal. Louder than the metal birds.

  It raced past bushes. Carved around trunks.

  It picked up burnt logs and leaves and twigs. Carried them with its tide.

  “It’s coming!” I shouted to Arrow. “Get everyone up high!”

  Arrow opened his eyes, and there, not too far away, he could see the giant wave of water heading toward them.

  “Climb!” he shouted. He pointed to the lianas leading up to my highest branches. “Go! Quickly!”

  The children screamed and hurried toward my trunk. Petari was the first one up. Then she pulled up Rosaman with Ruthie in the pack on his back. Then Faive, Val, Safa, and more. They were like ants, linking and helping one another to the next branch and the next.

  “Get as high as you can,” Arrow shouted up, as he waved over the last of the herd.

  “I can’t climb,” Storma said. Thick fear held close to her body. “I don’t like heights.”

  “You can do it,” Arrow said. “You have to. Take this.” He gave her the vine that he used to hoist food into his nest. “Hold on to the vine and the tree, and look out, not down.”

  Storma nodded quickly, her breath ragged. Then she held on to the vine and pulled herself up.

  The giant roll of water was closer now.

  Flames had been snuffed out.

  Sparks had been crushed.

  But the water could still do a lot of damage of its own.

  In just a few breaths it would be on top of me. On top of these children.

  “Get up, Arrow,” I said. “Now!”

  He was helping Storma onto the branches. They climbed higher as Arrow pulled himself up. His hand on one branch, his elbow crooked around another. But he was still too low.

  “Go, Arrow! GO!” I shouted.

  He glanced back. Panicked. His toe slipped.

  The wave hit me.

  The wall of water slammed into my trunk, ripping leaves and twigs as it doused the last of the fire.

  In my branches, the children held on, Rosaman cradling Ruthie in the pack against his chest. As water raced upward, they all screamed.

  All except Arrow, who sucked his breath tight into his lungs.

  Leaves and mulch and twigs swarmed around Arrow as he clung to my branch underwater. He held his breath for one, two, three, four…

  Finally the wave passed.

  The fire was out.

  The children peered down.

  “Arrow!” Storma rushed to Arrow’s body, slumped against my branch. She pushed him, hit his back. Arrow coughed, water rushing out from his mouth, and Storma smiled.

  The water began to recede, back to its home in the river.

  The forest was saved.

  32

  THE DEATHS LOOMED LARGE IN THE FOREST. THE POLLUTION HAD DONE ITS DAMAGE. THE MACHINERS HAD TORN US DOWN. THE FIRE HAD SWEPT US CLEAN. ONE MORE DEATH WAS TO COME. ONE TO HOPEFULLY SAVE MANY.

  The children quickly descended my branches, but not before they marveled at Arrow’s nest.

  “You really sleep here?”

  “How did you build it?”

  “Can we build nests too?”

  Arrow was pleased. He liked the attention—the appreciation. His energy was no longer stuffed full of doubt and fear but swirled around him, light and warm.

  “That was amazing,” Petari said when they were all safely back on the forest floor. Ruthie cooed as Rosaman brought her out of the backpack, making the children laugh as their anxiety shredded away.

  Petari put her arms around Arrow, squeezing him into a tight hug. “You did it. You saved us and
the whole forest. You saved our home.”

  Arrow’s eyes bulged with surprise, but his face lit up. He had only been hugged by Curly and her family. This was better.

  Word of the fire’s demise spread quickly throughout the forest, and the residents that had fled north began to return. Curly was among the most excited to be back. Nervous to go, she had stayed as close as possible. Now she barreled through the trees and launched herself onto Arrow’s head.

  He staggered back from the force, laughing all the way.

  “Curly! I missed you.”

  The monkey jumped onto Arrow’s arm, hung off his fingers, twisted around his back, then climbed up to nuzzle his neck.

  “That’s a pretty mega monkey, Arrow,” Luco said, stepping forward. “You’re pretty mega yourself.”

  Arrow frowned. “I’m big?”

  Luco laughed. “No, you’re mega. Like, great. You’re one of us…” He glanced at the other children for help, but Arrow laughed.

  “I understand. You’re pretty giant yourself.” He smirked, but now it was Luco’s turn to swim in doubt. He wasn’t sure if Arrow was telling a joke.

  Storma slunk up to Arrow then, her head hung low. “I’m really sorry about the fire. I didn’t think any of this would happen. I didn’t…”

  Arrow nodded. “I know.”

  “I don’t want to take those gems, either,” she added. “They should stay where they are. Everything in the forest should stay exactly as it is.”

  “I’ll show you Shimmer Cave one day,” Arrow said. “You won’t want to give it away once you see it.” He smiled, then turned back to me.

  “Guardian, is the magic back now? Did I help it?”

  I was slow to answer. What I had to tell the boy next he wouldn’t like, and possibly wouldn’t understand, but it was the only way.

  I had underestimated the boy. I had always known he was smart, but his doubts about himself had prevented him from seeing how much he could do.

  That had all changed today, though. He had called up the Anima. He had put out the fire. He had saved the forest. And now he saw through my stalling.

  “Guardian!” His voice held an edge of despair. “Your leaves.”

  He pointed to my leaves, which had turned yellow, then brown, and begun to rain around the herd.