Vagabonds

by Darcy Pattison

  Rafael started rooting through the stand of mushrooms.

  With relief, Galen splashed water on his face and tried to cut through his foggy thoughts. He thought longingly of the stream beside his old den. He liked a good washing to start each night. He swung lazily back to Rafael. His eyes narrowed. Where was the white mushroom? Galen hadn’t seen it clearly, didn’t know if it was a good mushroom or not.

  “Rafael, do the mushrooms taste right?”

  “Good mushrooms,” Rafael said. His eyelids were closed over his silvery eyes and he was chewing rhythmically, like a cow chews cud.

  Galen shrugged up his armor. Sometimes poisonous mushrooms grew in old tree stumps like this, but it was probably all right. The poisonous ones tasted bitter, and Rafael should have known to spit out something like that.

  They all returned to the den, ready for the night’s trek. No one was happy about turning back, but they agreed they must. But Blaze wasn’t to be found. They rested under the white oak. For the first hour, Galen lay beside Rafael and half dozed, enjoying the extra rest. Victor circled the clearing in a slow, measured pace. Galen grew restless. Rather than follow Victor, Galen paced across the small clearing, then back across. Even Rafael, who constantly hummed to himself, was silent.

  Galen strained to hear the familiar snore-like call that would tell him Blaze was near.

  Nothing.

  Instead, Rafael was humming again. His blind eyes pointed north, and he was swaying slightly. His right eye drooped more than ever.

  As if obeying Rafael’s signal, Blaze silently appeared, circled once, and landed next to Victor. “Whoo-ooo! News and more news!”

  Victor growled. “Finally. Where have you been?”

  Galen groaned. Not again.

  But Corrie’s eyes grew wide. “Did you hear from the Colony?”

  Galen hurried to her side, ready to give moral support if needed.

  “I talked to the leather wings,” Blaze boasted. “These mountains are their home. They know eagles’ nests. One close. Only a day’s flight away.”

  “Eagles!” Victor clawed the dirt in excitement.

  Corrie closed her eyes and quivered. “Nothing from the Colony?”

  “It’s OK,” Galen murmured. “He’s still alive.” He wished there was more to say, but he couldn’t change El Garro’s age.

  She nodded slightly, but didn’t move.

  “You wait,” Blaze said. “I scout. Tomorrow night, we find the right eagle.”

  Corrie said, “But we were going to head back.”

  “Not if there are eagles,” Victor said decisively. “Blaze, you’ll save us time if you can find the nest first. Can you get it right?”

  “I scout,” Blaze said indignantly. “I know how to scout.”

  Victor’s mouth opened and Galen expected him to say more. But maybe Victor was learning to let Blaze go at her pace. If so, Galen thought, their journey would be more congenial.

  “Tomorrow night?” Victor asked.

  “Yes,” Blaze said.

  But Victor had already turned to Corrie and was murmuring, “El Garro is fine, don’t worry.”

  Blaze hopped around the small group, then around again. On her third time around, Victor’s snake-like tail started flipping about in irritation.

  Galen realized what she wanted. “Blaze, you are an amazing scout. I didn’t know you could talk to bats.”

  Blaze strutted to him and told about finding the bat and how she managed to understand him in spite of her thick accent. While they talked, Corrie took charge of Rafael, and they went back toward the den; Victor disappeared into the shrubbery. Galen kept Blaze talking about her scouting skills. “We’re lucky to have you with us,” he concluded.

  Blaze swiveled her head to look at the empty clearing. “You are true friend. Others think I scout bad. You know. I work. I scout.”

  Galen yawned. “Go on and scout before the heat of the day comes and you must hide your eyes. See if there really is an eagle’s nest.”

  “Maybe long flight. Maybe look at many nests. Maybe not back tonight. You wait.”

  “OK. We’ll wait three nights. Then look for us on the trail.”

  The barn owl flew silently north.

  Galen poked his head into the den and asked, “Rafael?”

  Corrie was trampling the soil of the floor, compacting it further, while Rafael and Victor sat motionless at the side of the den.

  Galen quietly explained that Blaze would be looking for the eagle’s nest.

  Corrie nodded, “This is such a nice den, and we are all so tired. Maybe we need a day or two of rest. And I’m hungry. Do you think you could find that sassafras tree again?”

  Rafael echoed her words, “Sassafras?”

  Galen’s stomach grumbled, which made Corrie laugh.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said.

  .

  FEVER

  Galen was determined that on this strange night—waiting for Blaze to return—he would enjoy the landscape. He was weary of rushing through the land so fast that he hardly saw it.

  “Let’s find that sassafras tree,” Galen said.

  “Not me,” Victor announced. “I’m taking a nap.”

  Victor’s choice to stay behind pleased Galen, but he said nothing.

  When they emerged beneath the white oak, a light breeze was rustling leaves in the forest’s canopy. Galen chafed at his brother’s presence: with Rafael along, he couldn’t relax. He decided to stay on the trail where he could make sure his brother didn’t wander off. He needn’t have worried. Rafael navigated by swinging his nose from side to side to make sure he wasn’t touching the vegetation on either side. Galen watched, worried that Rafael’s fatigue from the night before might linger. Indeed, though Rafael walked slowly, he did stumble once. Behind him, Galen felt a small depression in the trail. Rafael had only been uncertain of his footing, he decided. It was hard to gauge when to offer help. Rafael didn’t welcome constant monitoring and stopped when he was uncertain. But Galen’s sense of responsibility for his quad-brother was a heavy weight in his heart.

  Galen’s thoughts turned restless. Would Blaze find the eagle’s nest? Where would this trek take them?

  The trail led to a dry creek bed where the forest canopy thinned. Galen stayed under the trees, but could still feel the breeze blowing down the creek bed. Galen stood with his eyes shut, letting the fresh air wash over him; it came in rhythmic gusts and eddies. The Ozarks stretched around them for miles and miles: they were tiny things in the midst of a vast forest. Of course, they weren’t alone. Somewhere were other trekkers, somewhere was a waterfall that kept ancient secrets. Hope stirred in him again, but it was a desperate hope. Would they find the trekkers and the Faralone Falls? Or would they fail? He opened his eyes to find Corrie studying him.

  Embarrassed, Galen blurted, “What if Blaze finds nothing? Will we continue on? Will we search all summer?”

  “I feel the uncertainty, too,” she said. She lifted her face to the breeze.

  A pang struck Galen. “Are you worried about El Garro?” He wanted to ask that question every day.

  “Stop. Just stop,” Corrie said.

  Her throat twitched, and Galen was afraid she would cry. He shouldn’t have asked. There was no way to ease her pain.

  “Is he bothering you?” Victor drawled.

  Startled, Corrie turned. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “Ah’ve had too much sleep tonight.”

  How much had Victor overheard? Galen turned away and looked up and down the creek bed.

  He realized his brother was nowhere in sight. “Where’s Rafael?”

  The restless wind reached into him and rattled his heart. “He can’t be gone so fast.”

  “Rafael!” His voice was drowned by katydids warbling in near unison. Their song throbbed in Galen’s ears.

  Rafael’s pale face rose above a rock in the creek bed. “Here.”

  Galen clawed over the rocks, heedless of his armor
banging against larger stones. “What are you doing?”

  “Resting.” Rafael’s voice was weak.

  Panic rose afresh in Galen. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just tired.”

  Oh! He should’ve take Rafael back to the Colony long ago.

  Corrie calmly climbed down beside Rafael. She nosed him gently, then looked up sharply at Galen. “He’s hot. We’ve got to get him back to the den.”

  .

  OPPORTUNITY

  Victor shivered: sick things depressed him. The torn edge of Rafael’s armor was ragged and black. The blind armadillo was lethargic and so pale that he almost glowed here in the den. Corrie and Galen would be fussing over Rafael for a long time, and he didn’t want to watch. He crawled out of the den, and in the open air, took a deep breath, and then shivered once more. What if Rafael had something contagious?

  Victor caught a salty smell. He pounced on a beetle and ate it. Fireflies glowed on, then off, on, then off. Victor’s thoughts returned to the conversation he had overheard. He knew Corrie had to fight the curse for every step, like he did, so she was already under stress. Add to that her worry about El Garro’s poor health and she could barely maintain control. Much of the problem was the distance and lack of information. Corrie knew El Garro was alive when the screech owl left to find them, but that was two weeks ago. She didn’t know how her father felt today. Or even if he was still alive today.

  Victor felt the emptiness of the growing void in his own life. He hadn’t heard from his home Colony since he left. El Julio, his grandfather, had been strong when Victor left, but that could change fast. Corrie must be feeling a hundred times worse with El Garro so sick.

  If only there was a way to help her. In the distance, a barred owl called, “Ah-WHO-who-ah-WHO-whoooo.”

  Victor wished it was Blaze returning instead of a barred owl, so they could move on. The thought of Blaze, though, made the night gloomy. It had been a mistake to bring an owl as a guide. But he couldn’t overrule El Garro, so he had to make the best of it.

  Or did he?

  What if Blaze went back to the Colony to check on El Garro? It would take care of two problems at once. Corrie would get information on her father, and Victor would be rid of Blaze for a week or more. His eyes narrowed. He still had a score to settle with Blaze for making him look bad before Corrie. Tricking the owl would be good revenge. And it had the benefit of doing something for Corrie.

  She had come through these last few months and was tougher. Except for a tendency to bloodshot eyes, she’d regained her healthy brown color, and her stamina rivaled his own. Yet, she was more vulnerable, too, because each step took her closer to El Garro’s death. It was only a question of stubbornness. He could soften her burden if Blaze brought back information about her father.

  Victor thrust out his chest and strutted a couple steps with stiff front legs.

  He celebrated his plan a moment, and then stopped to worry about implementing it. It meant intercepting Blaze before the others saw her, then convincing her to return to the Colony before talking with Corrie or Galen.

  His decision made, Victor trotted down the path in search of an open place where he could scan the skies better and not miss seeing the barn owl. He traveled rapidly for a mile or so before he found a small meadow. With satisfaction, he eyed the sky and thought he’d be able to spot Blaze easily, and the meadow would provide food while he waited.

  He spent the last few hours before dawn foraging and watching the sky. By the end of the first hour, his neck ached from constantly craning upward. By the end of the second hour, his full stomach made him sleepy. Near dawn, he hunkered down in the sweet smelling grass and rested. Nearby, a field mouse had a tiny den. Victor stayed still while a mouse first peered, and then cautiously ventured out. Tiny, gray, energetic—five babies followed her. Victor watched the mouse family and let himself half doze.

  Eee! Squealing woke Victor just in time to see Blaze swoop in and snatch away one of the baby mice.

  He leapt to his feet. “Blaze!”

  The barn owl circled back, then turned to the trees at the meadow’s fringes and found a good perch on an oak. By the time Victor reached her, she had swallowed the baby mouse.

  Victor stifled his disgust at her diet and put on his best manners. “Did you find an eagle’s nest?” he drawled casually.

  Blaze fluffed her feathers. “Hoo, hoo! Success!”

  “What?” Victor tried to still the rapid beating of his heart. Was victory within his grasp?

  “I met another barn owl.” Blaze clicked her bill in excitement. “He saw me first. He showed me his nest. But I am a good scout. I asked about the eagle’s nest. He knew where it was.”

  “Did you see it yourself?” Victor demanded.

  “No. You think I’m crazy? If eagle sees me, it chases me. I don’t go near its territory.”

  Victor agreed it was dangerous near an eagle’s nest, even for the armadillos with their protective armor. He would have to accept that the nest was there. In that case, he needed complete information before he sent Blaze away. He tossed his head toward the hills newly silhouetted in the early morning sky. “Where?”

  Blaze hesitated, and Victor worried she would insist on leading the way.

  She was in a rare good humor, though. “See that tallest peak? Look two peaks to the right.”

  The hills were steeper than any they’d yet encountered, and the tallest had bare rock at the top. “I see it.”

  “There is the eagle’s nest. See the valley coming down from the peak? A trail travels from here to there. You must cross the hill in front. One night. Maybe two. We will find the eagle’s nest.”

  “How do you know it’s the right eagle’s nest?”

  Blaze snapped her beak. Her talons gripped the tree limb tighter, knocking off bits of bark. “Don’t know. Huge nest. Built on old nests. That’s what the barn owl said. You look, you decide.”

  Victor wondered how to approach the topic of El Garro, but Blaze solved the problem. “Corrie, Galen, Rafael—where are they?”

  “At the den. I came ahead because I have something to ask.” Victor searched for the right word, the right tone of voice. Galen had gotten far with flattery; he’d try it, too. “You’re an awesome scout.” It sounded wrong, even to Victor’s ears.

  But Blaze raised her head a fraction, and her claws clutched and unclutched the branch. Still, she was suspicious. “You didn’t say that before.”

  “I know. I was wrong. You have led us through the Ozarks for days, and now, we’re almost at an eagle’s nest which could tell us all we need to know.”

  Blaze stretched out her wings and shook them. “Now, you appreciate me.”

  “Yes, I do. And that’s why I want to ask you something. Corrie is on edge again. She’s worried El Garro will die.”

  Blaze nodded. “El Garro is old. Sick.”

  Victor concentrated on keeping his tail still, so Blaze wouldn’t suspect how tense he was. His words came in a rush. “I’m asking you to fly back and check on El Garro. I don’t think Corrie can make it much longer without news. And not just second-hand news from a screech owl. Who knew if that owl had it right? Corrie needs you to fly back to El Garro and bring her fresh news.” He stopped suddenly and studied Blaze. The owl stood rigid and still. Would it work? Desperately, Victor added, “She doesn’t know I’m asking you to do this. I only ask because El Garro is your friend. And when she’s not worried about El Garro, Corrie is your friend.”

  “I will talk with Corrie.”

  “No!” Victor dug his claws into the grass. He forcefully stopped his tail from whipping about in agitation. “She wouldn’t let you go. But if you don’t go, she’ll drive us all so hard that—”

  “Not that again,” Blaze said. By now, if was full light. She sidestepped along the branch, away from the sunshine. “No. I stay. I found the nest!” She sounded stubborn. “Hoo! Hoo! Exciting days.”

  Victor squelched his growing panic. He couldn’t
give up. “It is exciting. And we owe everything to you. That’s why we need you to check on El Garro. You’re the only one Corrie can trust. I know you’ve argued with her, but it’s only because she’s so worried. Well, not just that. Do you know how the curse of the armadillos affects her?”

  “No. Explain.” From the shadows, Blaze’s beak clicked.

  Somehow, Victor had managed to keep it secret from everyone that he was first-born. When he explained Corrie’s stress, he was really explaining his own. Perhaps that gave his voice extra passion because Blaze’s stern gaze softened. He ended by saying, “Each step rips her heart apart. She wants to be home, but she forces herself onward. Step by step.”

  “Humpf. She doesn’t say this.”

  “No,” Victor said. “But the curse is there, and it takes its toll.”

  “Time to sleep,” Blaze said. “I will think. If I go to El Garro, it will take ten days. Maybe more. You look for the eagle’s nest. I will find you.”

  “Thank you, Blaze.” Victor put good will and flattery into his voice. “Corrie and El Garro will thank you, too.”

  Blaze snapped her beak. “Maybe I won’t go. Tonight, I will decide.”

  Cautiously, Victor said. “Yes. Sleep and think. Decide tonight. Nevertheless, if you decide to go, don’t come back to the den, or Corrie will talk you out of it. If you’re not there by midnight, I’ll know you’re not coming, and we’ll head toward the eagle’s nest.”

  “Hoo! Hoo! I will sleep and think.”

  .

  THE OLD DEN

  As soon as he poked his head out of the tunnel, El Garro saw the papery cocoon swinging wildly. It was midmorning, a time when the other armadillos would be sleeping, but El Garro needed little sleep during these festival days.

  The young persimmon tree that overhung his den was already bearing small greenish fruits. On its lowest limb hung the noisy cocoon. The moth inside was heaving at the bottom of the cocoon, making its home smack against nearby leaves.

  Transfixed, El Garro blinked in the unaccustomed sunlight, but couldn’t look away. For long seconds, the cocoon merely swayed with each heave. Suddenly, a horn-like projection poked through the bottom. Then a matching horn. The pointed oval persimmon leaves shook as if in an earthquake and then were still. As easy as that, the moth was out.