by Peter Brown
CLANG! A hailstone bounced off Roz’s chest. Another one swooshed into the weeds. Then the sky opened up and hailstones were everywhere. They tore through leaves and branches. They ricocheted off rocks and roots. They flattened flowers and bushes.
To the robot, the hailstones were annoying. To the goose, they were deadly. A stone hit Brightbill’s shoulder and he fell to the ground. Roz scooped him up, hunching over, protecting him from the falling stones, but the hailstorm might kill the poor bird if they couldn’t find cover soon.
Frantically, the robot scanned the area for any type of shelter. And there it was. On the far side of the valley, beside a winding river, was a cabin. It was old and shabby, but it had a roof, and that’s what our friends needed most.
Roz held her son close, pumped her legs, and thundered across the valley. Heavy hailstones hissed into the grass and squelched into the mud and clanged off our robot. There was a soft thump, and Brightbill cried out in pain. Roz bounded over the rushing river in a single leap, landed without breaking stride, and kept running. Now she could hear hailstones cracking against the cabin, louder and louder. The robot stomped up to the front door, turned the handle, and stepped inside.
CHAPTER 58
THE CABIN
The hailstorm was brief but violent. Its icy stones were quickly melting away, but the damage would linger on. The valley was littered with shredded leaves and wildflowers. Wounded animals were hobbling back to their homes. Several unlucky birds lay limp in the grass.
Inside the cabin, Roz was standing by the window. She held Brightbill in her arms, his bruised body wrapped in an old blanket. The robot knew everything there was to know about caring for animals. But all her son needed was time. His injuries would heal on their own.
“Go on without me, Ma,” said the goose in a weak voice. “I’ll catch up to you when I’m feeling better.”
“That is ridiculous,” said the robot. “What kind of mother would leave her injured son behind?”
“But, Ma—”
“Stop talking,” interrupted Roz. “You need to rest.”
Brightbill tried to argue, but he was already falling asleep.
The cabin was simple, just a square room with a wood stove, two chairs beside a table, and a couple of cots rotting in the corner. Dusty mugs and bowls sat on a shelf; otherwise the walls were bare. It was clear no humans had been there for a very long time. However, it seemed that some other creature had moved in. The whole place had a foul odor. Lumps of feces were strewn about, and little footprints trailed away from a dark hole in the floor.
Roz leaned over the hole, and in the language of the animals, she said, “Hello? Is anyone down there?”
Something moved, and then a pair of shining eyes looked up from the darkness. “Who are you?” said a voice. “I didn’t invite you into my home!”
“I am sorry to intrude,” said the robot. “My son and I were only trying to escape the hailstorm.”
“Your son?” said the voice. “Is that him in your arms? Let me see.”
Very gently, the robot lifted a fold of cloth and revealed the sleeping goose.
“He must take after his father,” said the voice.
“He is my adopted son,” the robot explained. “My name is Roz, and this is Brightbill.”
The shining eyes blinked, and the voice squeaked with excitement.
“You’re Roz and Brightbill? The birds have been singing about you for months! You’re living legends!”
“Technically, I am not living,” said the robot.
“You seem pretty alive to me,” said the voice. “Either way, it’s nice to meet you. They call me Sprinkles.” With that, the creature crawled up through the hole in the floor. She was covered in black fur from her nose all the way to the tip of her fluffy tail. Well, except for those white stripes running down her back. You see, Sprinkles was a skunk. The robot took one look at her and stepped backward.
Sprinkles frowned. “You know, Roz, skunks only get stinky when we’re nervous.”
“Are you nervous now?”
“Well, sort of, but in a good way! I’m honored to meet you! Please, pull up a seat and tell me what brings you here.”
Sprinkles hopped onto the table and listened as Roz described their journey. The skunk was a very good listener. While Roz spoke, Sprinkles nodded politely and said things like “Oh my” and “Is that right?” and “You don’t say!”
This went on until Brightbill began to stir. “Ma, I’m thirsty,” he whispered.
“There’s a creek right out back,” said Sprinkles. “And those might be useful.” She motioned to the bowls on the shelf. “Please, help yourself to anything. My home is your home.”
It turns out skunks can be quite hospitable. Sprinkles invited the visitors to stay as long as they liked, and so our friends spent Brightbill’s recovery in the cabin. The goose mostly slept. The robot brought him water and food. The skunk made sure they both were comfortable.
A few mornings later, sunlight streamed in through the window and onto Brightbill. He was squawking and waddling and fluttering through the cabin. His injuries had healed and he was eager to continue their journey.
“Thank you for everything, Sprinkles!” The robot waved as she marched away from the cabin with her son on her shoulder.
“Glad I could help!” called the skunk. “Misunderstood creatures like us gotta look out for each other!”
CHAPTER 59
THE STRANGE WILDERNESS
Another gloomy day had settled over the mountains. Here and there, the sun broke through the clouds and bright streaks came shining down like spotlights. One of those bright streaks swept over a rugged mountainside and found our friends. For a moment, the robot and the goose basked in warm sunlight. Then the patch of light moved on and rolled into the next valley, where it sparkled across a strange industrial site.
A patchwork of large, boxy structures was nestled among the trees. Broken walkways clung to the walls. Ramps and pipes slanted up from holes in the ground. The robot’s computer brain identified the site. It was a deserted coal mine.
This was a strange kind of wilderness. Scattered throughout that mountain range were ghosts of human activity. Overgrown railways. Rusted automobiles. Spindly towers perched on mountaintops. Faded signs with messages like No Trespassing and No Hunting. It seemed humans had once lived and worked in this wilderness, only to leave it all behind.
In places, though, there was still activity. Robot activity. Armies of robot workers methodically dug new tunnels and built new dams and worked in new mining operations. They took down abandoned buildings and hauled away truckloads of litter. Our friends were curious about these working robots, but they kept a safe distance, and went on their way.
CHAPTER 60
THE HUNTERS
Crack!
A gunshot echoed through the mountains. There weren’t many hunters willing to trek into that wilderness, but those who did were serious. They camped out, wore camouflage, and fired traditional rifles for the sport of it.
Crack!
Roz and Brightbill were desperate to stay clear of the hunters. However, that was proving difficult. The trees were tightly packed together and the undergrowth was tough and tangled. So they followed the deer paths that cut through this part of the forest. But they never knew when or where the next shot would be fired.
Crack!
The gunshots were growing louder. Our friends slowed to a crawl, afraid of being seen or heard. And then the chatter of forest animals fell silent.
CRACK!
A bullet whizzed through the undergrowth and a deer went bounding away. At the same time, birds screeched and flapped into the air. Unfortunately, one of those birds was Brightbill. Scared and confused, the young goose fluttered up to a tree limb just as two hunters emerged from the bushes.
“What’s a goose doing alone in these mountains?” said Hank, staring up at Brightbill. “And what’s it doing in a tree?”
“There must be
something wrong with it,” said Miguel. “Maybe you should put it out of its misery.”
Hank reloaded his rifle. “We’re here to hunt deer,” he said, “but it looks like we’re having goose for dinner.”
Had the hunters known Brightbill the way we do, reader, I’m sure they would have left him alone. But they knew nothing about him. To them, Brightbill was just another goose, a meal, and they were getting hungry.
The hunter raised his rifle.
He took a deep breath.
His finger reached for the trigger.
And then a fierce gust of wind suddenly blew across the forest floor. No, not wind. Footsteps! Something was stomping toward the hunters! Their rifles were ripped away, bent into hooks, and thrown aside.
The men had hunted all manner of beasts, but they’d never come across this… this… well, they didn’t know what this thing was. It looked like a tree stump, standing on two long roots, with branches hanging from its sides. The men stumbled backward, eyes and mouths opened wide. Then they turned and ran, and their terrified noises trailed off through the leaf litter.
The goose was terrified too. He slumped off his branch and into his mother’s arms. The poor bird was trembling with fear, but he was unharmed.
“I am so sorry, Brightbill,” said the robot. “I should have acted sooner. You are safe now, I promise.”
CHAPTER 61
THE GUIDE
A light drizzle was falling on the travelers. Although they weren’t actually traveling at the moment. They were standing still and staring up at a steep mountain of rocks. The robot had plenty of rock-climbing experience, but one bad fall out there and she could be stranded forever. So Roz carefully picked her way up the slippery slope, while Brightbill fluttered along beside her.
They hadn’t gone far when there came the sound of hooves clattering on stone, and then a horned creature leaped from the mist and smashed right into the robot.
CLANG!—Roz went flying backward.
CLANG!—Roz crashed onto the ground.
Standing on the rocks above the robot was a wild ram. He had big, curling horns and a crazed look in his eyes. Brightbill flew to his mother’s side, ready to defend her. “Stay away from my mama!” he hissed, spreading his wings.
But rather than charging, the ram hung his head and started to cry. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” he blubbered. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. Sometimes I just lose control and smash things. I feel awful about it, really I do!”
Roz brushed herself off. “I believe those are your instincts,” she said. “We all have them—they can be very powerful. I only hope your instincts do not end up breaking me.”
“Don’t worry,” the ram sniffled. “I’ll try not to let my instincts break you.”
“I appreciate that,” said the robot.
“My name’s Thud,” said the ram. “Which way are you headed?”
“We are trying to find our way out of these mountains,” said Roz. “But they never seem to end.”
“You’re almost there!” said Thud. “Let me show you the way—it’s the least I can do after smashing you.”
The ram pranced away and led our friends to a narrow path that wound up the rocky mountainside. Roz tried to stay close, but Thud was born to climb. He easily scrambled up the steep slopes and vanished into the mist. A minute later his friendly voice called out, “For a creature without hooves, you’re not a bad climber!” And there he was, peering down from a cliff ledge.
The path opened into a foggy meadow where a whole flock of wild sheep were grazing. They reminded Roz of the cows, grazing in the pasture, and she wondered how Hilltop Farm was doing without her.
Thud pranced through the flock. “These are my new friends,” he announced without stopping. “They’re lost, so I’m guiding them out of the mountains.” The sheep raised their heads. Thud had a habit of making weird friends, but these two were definitely the weirdest. The flock watched as the ram, the robot, and the goose continued up the mountain and disappeared into the mist.
Higher and higher they climbed, above the tree line, to where there were only rocks and scrubby plants and trickling mountain streams. They occasionally came upon a dirt road or a hiking trail, and the ram trotted across casually, while our friends crept across cautiously.
At one point, the ram got that crazed look in his eyes again. His horns came flying at the robot and she jumped out of the way just in time. Then Thud cried and apologized for his instincts, Roz forgave him, and the group carried on.
They finally hiked up from the mist and onto a mountain ridge. Above, the sky was clear. Below, a blanket of puffy clouds spread outward in every direction. The sun was setting, and the western clouds were burning pink. Roz thought of the mountaintop on her island. If only she could be watching the sunset from that peak instead of this one. But they still had a long, long way to go.
Thud pointed our friends to one last path. “This will take you down from the mountains and through the foothills,” he said, smiling.
The ram suddenly got that crazed look in his eyes again, and the robot prepared to jump. But this time Thud pulled himself together. He said good-bye to the travelers, and then he pranced away.
CHAPTER 62
THE SHOWDOWN
Daybreak in the foothills, and thick gray fog was everywhere. With such poor visibility, the travelers relied on their other senses. They smelled salty air. They felt sandy soil. They heard seagulls screeching and waves breaking. And then they heard the long, low note of a ship’s horn. Hmmmmmmm. Somewhere in the distance, hidden by the fog, was the ocean.
As if to answer the ship, there came another long, low note. But it wasn’t a horn, it was a howl. A wolf was following our friends.
Brightbill beat his wings and squawked, “Mama, run!”
Roz ran downhill, deeper into the gloom. Her feet stomped the sandy soil, leaving behind a trail of footprints. There was no time to hide her tracks, so she just kept running. Blurry shapes faded in and out of the fog, and her eyes darted around to see if they were rocks or bushes or wolves. But the robot should have watched where she was going. She slipped and thumped into the sand, and before she could get up, Shadow was on top of her.
The wolf was heavy and strong. He pinned Roz to the ground and locked his teeth onto her tool belt. At last, he had caught his prey! Violently, wildly, he thrashed the robot from side to side. Roz tried to squirm free, but Shadow’s grip was tight. There was only one thing to do. She reached down beside the wolf’s snarling jaws and fumbled with the buckle, and suddenly she was loose. Shadow staggered backward, the belt dangling from his mouth, as Roz stomped away.
Brightbill had been circling overhead this whole time and now he squawked desperate warnings to his mother.
“Look out for those rocks!”
“Shadow is gaining on you!”
“There are buildings ahead!”
Roz burst through a row of hedges and onto the main street of a seaside village. It was still early, and it was still foggy, and Roz was halfway through the village before anyone saw her. A man had just left for his morning walk when the robot and the wolf came galloping down the street. The man decided his walk could wait, and he hurried back inside.
Shadow swiped at Roz’s heels, but the robot leaped away. She soared over a house and landed on the other side. The wolf dashed around the yard, only to see her leaping away once more.
This time Roz landed in shallow water. Waves gently sloshed against her ankles. The robot backed into the ocean, up to her waist, and then automatically stopped. Her Survival Instincts wouldn’t let her go any farther.
“There’s nowhere left to run,” Shadow growled as he prowled onto the beach. “Either fight or swim.”
Roz was trapped. Her body lurched forward and backward as her computer brain struggled to find an escape. And then Brightbill came to her rescue.
“This way, Mama!”
Roz didn’t hesitate. She launched herself up from the shallows, toward her son’s
voice. Salt water streamed off her body as she soared through the air. Then her feet pounded into the sand beside Brightbill, who was perched atop an old rowboat.
By the time Shadow arrived, our friends were rowing away from shore. The wolf’s face twisted with rage, and he howled from the water’s edge. “You made a fool of me, Roz! My pack and my mate have left me! Now I’m just a worthless lone wolf! All because of you!”
Roz felt sorry for Shadow. She never meant for any of this to happen. But she had her own troubles. The robot’s greatest fear was deep water, and now she was paddling through the waves and out to sea.
CHAPTER 63
THE ROWBOAT
The sun was shining, the fog was thinning, the robot was rowing. Roz was no thief, and she didn’t like taking that old rowboat. But judging from its appearance, it had been abandoned years ago. She hoped it wouldn’t be missed.
Anybody who’s rowed one of these boats knows you’re supposed to face backward. That can make it tough to see where you’re going. This wasn’t a problem for Roz, however. She started off rowing normally, and after several strokes of the oars, her head spun around until she was facing forward. And what she saw was blue sky, and dark waves, and a sliver of green on the horizon.
“We’re in a bay,” said Brightbill, swooping down into the boat. “To the north is that distant coastline. To the east is open water. To the west is a seaport. And to the south is the village, and the wolf.”
It seemed the travelers had no choice but to cross the bay. Luckily, Roz could row long and fast. Brightbill settled in for the ride, and the robot’s mechanical muscles started pumping. She pulled and pulled and pulled on the oars, and the rowboat glided through the waves.
Roz was nervous. Time and again, the robot’s Survival Instincts had stopped her from going into deep water. Now an old rowboat was all that separated her from the murky depths. She couldn’t wait to feel solid ground beneath her feet again.
