The Mysterious Abductions (2 page)
Read The Mysterious Abductions Online
Authors: Tracey Hecht
“T
hey're late!” exclaimed Bismark. The sugar glider paced the dark land, searching for his absent friends. “We agreed to meet promptly at dusk,” he muttered to himself.
At last, a voice emerged from the brush. “Oh goodness!” it panted. Rubbing his eyes, the pangolin hurried into the clearing. “I'm so sorry. I overslept.”
Bismark gave a slight roll of his oversized eyes. “I shall let it slide this time, though tardiness is quite
unacceptable. The marsupial family is always prompt, always ready, alwaysâ¦
bonjour
!” His voice dropped in pitch as he caught sight of Dawn's red muzzle poking through the brush. “How are you, my tardy but captivating canine?”
The fox furrowed her brow. “Bismark,” she said, “what are you wearing?”
The sugar glider spun, showcasing a shimmering blue snakeskin he wore on his back like a cape.
Tobin's eyes widened in admiration. “So shiny!” he said.
“Let's focus on my cape,” replied Bismark. “But yes, my fur glimmers like polished amber!” Shooting a wink at the fox, the sugar glider licked his palms and smoothed his silver-gray coat.
“Bismark,” said Dawn, “the costume. Why are you wearing that thing?”
The sugar glider gasped. “Retract that remark at once! This is no mere costume, no ordinary âthing'.” He shook his head in distaste. “What you see before you,” he declared, “is the majestic uniform of our brilliant Brigade. Together we will confront the dangers that lurk in the shadows. With these around our shoulders, sparkling like the starry sky, we will bring hope and protection to all the animals of the night. And see?”
Bismark reached into the folds of his wingflap. “
Voila
! Two more for my favorite
amigos
.”
Dawn and Tobin accepted the skins of deep blue and draped them around their necks.
“Stunning. Absolutely stunning!” crooned Bismark, circling the fox in her new garb. “Only the best of the best for my canine princess.” Standing on tiptoe, the sugar glider placed his face just inches from Dawn's. “You know,” he said, twirling his whiskers, “that blue-bellied black snake needed a little persuading to part with his precious skin.” Bismark flexed his muscles and winked.
Dawn raised an eyebrow, unamused by the sugar glider's tall tale. Tobin, however, took the bait. “You went back and wrestled the blue-bellied black snake by yourself?” he asked, his mouth falling open.
Bismark puffed out his chest. “
Absolument
!” he confirmed, raising his chin toward the stars.
Dawn sighed knowingly.
“Well,” stammered the sugar glider, pawing his fur, “what I meant to say isâ¦wrestling is a strong word, of course⦔
“But it was so big!” said Tobin, his eyes widening.
“Yes!” cried Bismark. “Humongous! Gigantic! Gargantuan! Unfathomablyâ” Catching sight of Dawn's
frown, the sugar glider's words caught in his throat.
But the pangolin pressed on. “Were you injured?” he asked.
“Oh yes,” replied Bismark. “You should've seen all theâ”
Dawn cleared her throat.
“I meanâ¦n-not quite,” the sugar glider stammered, remembering the already-shed skin he'd encountered on his peaceful, moonlit stroll. “There was noâ¦but yes! No! I meanâ¦of course, yes! No! Collywobblesâ¦polyglotâ¦nincompoopâ¦onomatopoeia!” Bismark's eyes rolled back in his head, as if searching the surface of his brain for more words.
“Eeeeeeee!” A bloodcurdling shriek interrupted Bismark's rant. It pierced the air and echoed, haunting and faint, through the trees.
“What was that?” cried Tobin, jumping behind the fox's raised tail.
Bismark crouched under his cape.
Even the fox seemed alarmed. Though her stance remained tall and brave, the hair on her back stood on end, like a long row of blades.
With vigilant eyes, she scanned the trees above. A curtain of drifting clouds obscured the moon, and
the night's light shifted from a clear, deep blue to an ominous gray. She drew in her breath. “It appears the Brigade might be needed sooner than we had thought.”
D
awn, Bismark, and Tobin listened closely, paws cupped to their ears. For a moment, all they could hear was the soft rush of the nearby river and the familiar buzzes and chirps of the night. Suddenly, there was another pained, desperate cry, followed by a scuffle, a thump, and a long, muffled wail. Then all fell silent. Eerily silent.
Dawn's ears remained pricked in attention. She scanned the land. Fixing her gaze on a tall nearby acacia,
the fox straightened her spine. “Bismark,” she said, “could you climb to the top of this tree? We should be able to see what's going on from up there.”
“
Ma cherie
,” he replied, puffing his chest. “Does a spring rain cleanse the soul? Does a dove's song fill the heart? Does the beautiful fox before me ignite every fiber of my being?”
Dawn waited.
“In a flash!” said the sugar glider.
Seconds later, Bismark stood on one of the tree's highest branches. He gazed at the river below. “Great Scott, I am handsome!” he said, marveling at his reflection.
Spotting a low-hanging limb, Dawn leapt off the ground, hoping she, too, could see more from a higher perch. At first she saw nothing unusual, just the froth of the river's current and the soft flicker of moonlight on the waves. But then she spotted a long, dark mass, blundering downstream toward them. “What is that?” she wondered.
Quickly, Tobin clambered up the tree's bark and settled, breathless, next to the fox.
“What do you see,
ma cherie
?” asked Bismark.
Dawn extended her neck. “I'm not sure.”
Tobin looked at his friend with wide, hopeful
eyes. “Is it only a log?” he asked.
Dawn nodded. “Perhaps.” She sat back on her haunches, a little less tense.
“Perhaps is good enough for
moi
!” said the sugar glider. “You worry too much, my lovely Dawn. The forest is full of screeches and howls. It is the music of the night. No
problemo
here!”
“Um⦠excuse me,” started Tobin, self-consciously shifting his weight. “But it seems like we might have a⦠um⦠â
problemo
,' indeed!” The pangolin raised his brows in concern and motioned back toward the river.
The dark mass floated past beneath the tree, revealing itself to be an ordinary logâsmall leafless branches and coarse bark. However, clinging to the log's hollowed end was the distinct silhouette of a small, furry creature and the flash of its two terror-filled eyes.
“That animal is in trouble,” Dawn whispered.
“Yes,” Tobin nodded. The current had picked up now, and the creature was frantically splashing downstream.
“Well then,” said Bismark, “I shall bid you
adieu
!”
“Excuse me?” said Tobin, tilting his chin toward his friend.
“Since I am the bravest soul of us all,” said the sugar glider, “I shall gallantly remain in this treeâin its precarious limbs, at its most perilous pinnacleâwhile the two of you resolve that, um, teensy trouble down below.” He cleared his throat and stood tall. “Faretheewell!”
“Oh,” said the pangolin, sighing deeply in disappointment. “I suppose I thought a brigade did things together.”
Dawn kept her eyes fixed on the river below, but her voice was clear and strong: “That's right, Tobin. We are a brigade. We will work as a team.” She shot Bismark a commanding look. “Now, we must hurry! The river current is swift.” She leapt to the ground and raced toward the riverbank.
“We're coming!” cried Tobin, scrambling headfirst down the tree.
“Indeed!” called the sugar glider. “We are right behind you, my dame!” Bismark stepped to the edge of the branch and directed himself toward Dawn's fluffy, white tail. He sighed. “The things I will do for this lady fox!” Bismark blew a kiss into the wind, spread his winglike flaps, and launched himself after his friends.
A
s the river picked up in speed, so did the Brigade. Dawn stayed in the lead, matching the current's pace. Bismark shadowed them from the treetops above, gliding from branch to branch. And Tobin trundled behind Dawn, trying his best to keep up.
“Oomph!” The pangolin winced as he stumbled over a pointy rock. Taking a seat on the long, damp grass, Tobin examined his tender foot and inspected his scales for nicks. “Oh dear,” he muttered, noticing one
on his leg. But then he noticed something moving in the aldrovanda bush just a tail's length away.
Tobin quietly rose to his feet and squinted into the brush.
“Hello?” he called, nervously coiling his tail. “Is somebody there?”
The pangolin padded closer and peered into the feathery leaves. There, tucked behind a cluster of deep scarlet blooms, he saw a quivering mound of fur and two terrified eyes.
“Oh,” said Tobin, lowering his scaly head. “Hello.”
Slowly, a fuzzy brown nose poked out of the brush. It wriggled twice and then retreated back into safety.
Suspecting the nose needed time to adjust, Tobin waited.
Sure enough, moments later, the nose reappeared. This time, a tentative paw followed. Little by little, one limb at a time, a stout, furry wombat emerged from the foliage, drenched and dripping with river water.
At once, the pangolin recognized those eyesâthey were the same ones he had seen looking up from the log in terror. “Are you all right?” he asked, cocking his head.
But the wombat could not seem to reply. Despite the warmth of the night, her body trembled, from her round, fluffy cheeks to her short, stubby tail.
The pangolin scanned his surroundings for signs of Bismark or Dawn, but all he could see was the black of the night and the reflection of stars on the water. Not quite sure what to do, Tobin decided to simply introduce himself.
“My name is Tobin,” he said, his voice soft and sincere.
Finally, the wombat spoke. “My name is Cora,” she whispered. But still, she continued to shake, and her eyes remained frightened and wide.
Tobin cupped his scaled chin in his paw, searching for the right thing to say.
“When I'm afraid,” he began, taking a seat on the ground, “I spray a smell from my scent glands. It can be rather unpleasant.” Tobin bent his head in embarrassment. “And sometimes,” he added, “I do it by accident, when there's nothing scary at all.”
Cora nodded. “When I'm afraid, my fur quivers.” She paused and drew in a deep breath. “But when I'm really afraid,” she revealed, “I quiver on the inside.” Cora wrapped her paws around her waist and looked out into the midnight sky.
Tobin looked out as well, but he was not sure for what. Then he remembered his friends. “I have a brigade,” he told Cora, showcasing his shimmering cape.
Cora tilted her head. “What's a brigade?” she asked.
Tobin thought for a minute. “It's company,” he proclaimed. “With matching outfits.” Satisfied with his explanation, the pangolin smoothed a bit of snakeskin that had caught on his scales. “Would you like to meet them?” he asked.
For the first time that night, Cora's shoulders relaxed and the crease in her brow seemed to fade. She nodded.
But before Tobin could figure out which way to go, a familiar voice filled the air.
“Botanical beasts! Plants of pestilence! Villainous vines! Stand down, at once!” And then, just a short ways downstream, Bismark emerged, hacking the brush with a stick.
Tobin cleared his throat.
“Oh!” said the sugar glider, raising his chin. “It's you, my scale-skinned chum.” Bismark pranced forward, still waving his stick through the air. “And, ooh!” he continued, spotting the wombat. “You've found yourself a little
amiga
!” He patted Tobin on the
back. “I'm rubbing off on you already, I see.” But then Bismark squinted and took a step back. “Whyâ¦it is you,
mademoiselle
! The damsel in such distress on the log.” Bismark planted his twig machete into the ground. “Allow me to introduce myself: I am Bismark, god amongst gliders. And I am here to save you.” The sugar glider graciously bowed.
Cora looked to Tobin.
“Come, these plants are not to be trustedâwe must move to safety at once!” Bismark continued, wielding his twig again. “And that would be east, or west, orâ¦I mean⦔ The sugar glider scratched the small patch of bald skin on the crown of his head.
“I believe we are safe right here,” Dawn announced, as she, too, emerged from the brush. “I have searched the banks in both directions. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.” The tawny fox crossed the grass to join the rest of the group.
“Dawn,” said Tobin, “this is Cora.”
“Cora,” said Dawn, eying the wet, wide-eyed wombat, “did you just come from the river?”
Cora nodded.
Noticing that Cora was trembling again, the pangolin drew close to her side.
“Was that you we heard screaming? Are you in
some kind of trouble?” Dawn pressed.
The wombat looked at Tobin, who gave a reassuring tilt of his scales.
Cora drew in a deep breath. “My brother,” she cried, the words coming at last. “My brother, Joe. He's⦠he's been taken!”
Dawn narrowed her eyes. “Taken by whom?” she asked.
The wombat shook her head from side to side. “I didn't see,” she replied. “It all happened too fast. We were just chewing on roots.” Cora gulped. “And then, all of a sudden, there was a noiseâ¦a rustlingâ¦then footsteps. My brother yelled at me to run, so I did, andâ¦and⦔
“And you didn't see who it was,” confirmed Dawn.
Cora shook her head again. “We ran as fast as we could and jumped into the river.” The wombat gazed toward the water. “I thought we'd be safe on the logsâ¦but when I looked back, Joe was gone!”
Bismark let out a grunt. “We'll find the scoundrel who did this diabolical deed!” he snarled, tightening his grip on his stick.
Cora nodded in reply, but tears welled in her eyes and her brown fur continued to shake.
Tenderly, Tobin reached for her paw. “And your brother,” he said. “We'll find him, too.”
The fox gazed into the night. The moon had reemerged from the clouds and its glow was yellow and dim. She tried to shut out the thought that Cora's brother might have met a different, darker fate. “Yes,” she said. “We will find him.”
