“I’m just gonna…stop here…for a moment,” huffed Otto. His refusal to fly had made his journey back toward the crater quite a challenge, especially as he tried to keep pace with the swift fox. The owl was breathing so heavily that his breath ruffled his feathers.
“You’ll be able to navigate the rest on your own?” asked Dawn.
Otto awkwardly bobbed his head. “Yes,” he confirmed. “I’ll find my way. Plus, I could use a bit of rest.” The owl, normally asleep during the day, let out a long yawn. “The work has been so exhausting.”
Dawn gave Otto a nod, motioned to Tobin, then continued her race toward the crater. Without the owl in tow, she could pick up speed and make up for lost time. Soon her trot turned into a run, and before long she had reached the giant hole in the earth. Tobin couldn’t keep up with the fox, but he moved as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. He didn’t slow down until the crater was in sight.
“Sorry it took me so long,” Tobin called breathlessly. He saw Dawn standing at the side of the crater, where the jerboas were furiously weaving the vines into a huge web. They were organized in neat rows and columns so they could work as quickly as possible. As one tiny creature held a strand in his paws, another wrapped it through the next piece so nimbly that it looked like a complicated dance.
Over, under.
Over, under.
Hop, duck.
Hop, duck.
The scene was a sea of floppy ears and reed-like tails. No one stood still, even to catch their breath.
Tobin took a step closer and examined the woven construction. His beady eyes widened. The jerboas had stayed awake much past their bedtime of dawn and had worked straight through the morning. But despit their exhaustion, they had made impressive progress. The net was almost done. It nearly covered the huge hole in the ground.
“Oh goodness, those poor jerboas!” cried Tobin. “They’re working so hard.”
Dawn nodded in sympathy, but she was thinking about other things. “Where’s Polyphema?” she asked. “And where are the birds?” She stared out at the crowd. The jerboas’ constant movement made searching for anyone almost impossible. Finally, she spotted the kiwis at the far side of the net. But the falcons, owls, and hawks were nowhere in sight.
“Hey, you, over there! Back to work! Do you want the beast to turn us all into barbecue?” A sharp voice interrupted Dawn’s train of thought, and she spun around in alarm.
It was Bismark. He was perched on top of a rock, shouting out orders, and flourishing his cape to and fro.
“Oh goodness,” sighed Tobin. He and Dawn made their way toward their friend.
Upon spotting the fox, a smirk spread across Bismark’s face. “Well, well, well,” he sang. “If it isn’t she-who-thinks-of-me-not.”
Dawn took a step closer. “Bismark, we have to regain control here. Polyphema’s trying to take over.”
“Regain control?” Bismark scoffed. “Mi amore, can’t you see? I’m already in control!” He put his hands on his hips. “I’m in charge of it all. Poly-poo has appointed me maestro!”
Dawn arched her spine.
“Maestro?” echoed the pangolin.
“Maestro indeed, mi amigo. Tutu has recognized my incredible talent and installed me in my rightful place: head honcho, chief glider, Bismark the boss!”
Dawn shook her head. “But Bismark—”
“No time for chitchat,” he replied, dismissively waving his flap. “Too much work to do, and these jerboas are slacking off on the job! You there!” he shouted to a team of weavers. “You call that sturdy? Ridiculo!”
Bismark hopped off his rock and stormed over to the section of the net in question. He shook his head as he examined the handiwork of the jerboas.
“No, no, no. This won’t do. Tutu said it had to be perfect! You’ve got to pull it tight, comme moi.” He demonstrated by yanking the vine so hard that it snapped in his hand. “Mon dieu! How shoddy! You know what this means?” he asked, waving the torn strands in front of the jerboas’ faces. “We’re starting over! That’s right, the whole pomelo! The entire papaya! Now vamanos, get a move on!”
A groan went up from the crowd of jerboas, who had stopped their work for a moment to listen.
“Bismark,” said Dawn. She edged close to her friend and tried her best to stay calm. “Where are the birds?”
But Bismark ignored her question. “I’m busy,” he said. He pointed at a weaver, who was so tired, he had stumbled away from the net. “To the left, little guy! To the left!”
The jerboa’s eyes darted to the glider. Then he meekly lowered his head and trudged back to the net. He could barely lift his feet off the ground.
Bismark looked back at Dawn with triumph. “Everyone here sees my true worth—I am a natural-born leader! These animals are drawn to me like moths to a flame. Moths to a flame, I tell you!”
“Listen, Bismark,” said Dawn. “This is urgent. Polyphema grounded the birds in my name, and they could be in grave danger.”
“Why are you so worried about the birds? Hmm?” Bismark stomped his small foot. “Maybe you should stop worrying about those feather-brained flappers and spend more time focused on yours truly—moi—me, me, me!”
“I’m sorry about before.” Dawn sighed, trying to push aside her frustration. “Now Bismark, please—”
But the sugar glider was already distracted by another fault in the net.
“Hey, you! You call that weaving? Mon dieu!”
“Come on,” urged the fox. “Enough of this. We have to go find Polyphema.”
Bismark shook his head. “No, no, muchacha. My post is here. I have important duties to perform! There’s someone new in charge of both the camp and my heart. Someone who wants me as maestro!”
“Oh goodness,” said Tobin. “I think I should stay, too.” He glanced at Bismark then lowered his voice to a whisper. “Someone’s got to take care of these jerboas!”
Dawn’s gaze traveled over the animals at work. “The birds are definitely missing,” she said. “I have a terrible feeling about this.” Then she lifted her head and fixed her eyes on a large boulder ahead. A small glimmer, almost like the glow of a moonstone, shone at its top. Polyphema. “There’s no time to lose. I must speak to the tuatara at once.” Dawn’s body stiffened. “Before it’s too late.”