With her heart pounding hard in her chest, Dawn raced toward the boulder and bounded up its steep side. At the top, perched on a narrow ledge, was Polyphema—front eyes closed, third eye pulsing and twitching.
“What have you done with the birds?” Dawn demanded. She reared up to her full height.
The tuatara winked open a single dark eye. She looked at Dawn, glanced down below at the net, and then closed her eyelid once again. She was in no rush.
Dawn growled. “We don’t have time for this! Where are they?”
“Apologies,” the tuatara said at last. “My visions cannot be disrupted.”
“Where are the birds?” she repeated. “Where have you sent them?”
Polyphema tilted her head. “Why, I’ve sent them nowhere.” She opened her eyes, and Dawn saw them twinkle. “They’re here. Can’t you see?” The tuatara bent her angular face over the edge of the rock and gestured down toward the net. “They’ve done a marvelous job. Simply marvelous.”
Dawn peered out at the scene below. She could see that work was well underway, despite Bismark’s—or Polyphema’s—perfectionism. The net’s final knots were being tied, and the second layer of vines was starting to be woven in. “Those are the jerboas,” she snapped. “I asked you about the—” The fox’s voice trailed off. She saw that in certain spots, even where there were no jerboas, the net seemed to be moving as if stirred by an invisible force. But there was no wind blowing. She squinted and saw a tiny orange beak grab the end of a vine, pull it under, and wrap it back around.
Dawn suddenly understood, and the knowledge hit her like a tidal wave. “They’re under the net,” she said softly, afraid to believe the words she was speaking. Her horrified eyes met Polyphema’s. “What have you done?”
The tuatara looked back, unflinching. “I have done what I must,” she replied.
Dawn felt her heart pound in her chest. She had to get down there immediately. She had to do something. The fox spun away, but a low chuckle stopped her in her tracks.
“Go ahead.” The reptile sneered. “Do your best. Take charge.” The tuatara’s lips spread in a mocking grin. “No one will listen. Why would they? Why would they defy me when I have the power to see what you can’t?”
Dawn slowly took a step back.
“Look at you. You’re all alone.” Polyphema glanced left and right, and then shrugged. “Even your friends aren’t here. How did that happen? Did I steal them away?”
A fire blazed in Dawn’s chest. She could feel the burn of anger in her legs, her stomach, her eyes. Every instinct in her body was telling her to pounce. But she held herself back. She could not waste another moment. And so, the fox scrambled down the slope of the rock and raced full-speed toward the crater.
When she arrived, she leaped onto the net, tugging the vines with her teeth, desperate to untie the knots. She heard urgent voices around her, but Dawn shut them out. The fox pulled with all her might. Her muscles tensed, and sweat dripped from her fur, stinging her eyes. But she could not be distracted. She wouldn’t stop until the birds were freed.
“HALT!” A group of jerboas shrieked.
The ear-splitting cry filled the air, prompting Dawn to stop at last. The fox wiped her gums with her paw then looked up. She was surrounded.
“What are you doing?” the jerboas shouted in dismay.
“You’re ruining all our hard work!”
“We spent all night on those knots!”
Voices rose from under the vines, and there was furious flapping as the birds struggled to push through to the surface. Dawn looked down through the net’s gaps and saw a sea of faces staring up at her.
“Move away!” they cried out, joining the jerboas in protest.
“You’re wrecking the trap for the beast!”
“Yeah, do you want the beast to win?”
Dawn scanned the crowd, searching for one sympathetic face. Someone who understood. Where were Tobin and Bismark? They must have been there, but there were too many birds and jerboas to see. Their voices grew louder, their protests stronger. She had to do something.
The fox raised her snout to the sky and let loose a guttural howl—Yoooowwwwwl—the Brigade’s signal for trouble. Alarmed by the noise, the jerboas and birds went silent.
“Listen to me,” pleaded Dawn. “I have done all I could to avoid starting a panic, but I’m left with no choice.” She wiped the sweat from her brow and held her tail high. “Polyphema does not want your help,” she began. With one paw, Dawn pointed down, toward the grid of feathered heads. “She’s taken the side of the beast! She wants you gone. This is not a trap for the beast. It’s a trap for the birds!”
The birds swiveled their heads left and right, squawking in confusion. The impressive seal of the net, the tight knots they had helped tie, the ban on flying—it all suddenly made sense. Their feathers bristled with horror.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
Everyone turned toward the familiar sound of the tuatara’s tail sweeping through the ash. They watched in silence as the crowd of jerboas parted, yielding a clear, open path.
With her third eye open, Polyphema swept by the jerboas, brushed past Dawn, and finally stopped at the edge of the net. Wearing a hint of a grin, she looked down at the birds’ feathered heads. “Your so-called leader seems slightly confused,” she said evenly. The tuatara glanced sideways at Dawn. “Let me clarify. I never wanted to banish you. The beast did.”
“Then why are we down here?” an owl howled.
“Why are we trapped?” screeched a hawk.
Polyphema held a claw to her lips. “You’re not trapped,” she replied. “You’re protected.”
“Don’t listen to her,” said the fox. “You’re not protected. If we capture the beast, you’ll be crushed when he falls in the net! Can’t you see?”
At this, the tuatara laughed smugly. “No,” she hissed quietly. “They cannot. That’s the whole point. I’m the only one who can see.” Her third eye flashed in the light as she addressed the birds once again. “I know what to do,” she insisted. “I know how to deal with the beast. I had to hide you. If you were out here flapping about and he saw you? With the terrible, violent past he has with your kind? Well,” she scoffed, “the beast would be very upset.” The tuatara shifted her gaze from the birds to the jerboas, who had huddled in a nervous cluster. “The beast would destroy all of you!”
The crowd of animals looked at each other, then at the two leaders before them. Which one told the truth? A tense silence fell over them all.
“Golly gee!” Otto barreled his way through the crowd, wings akimbo, eyes crazed, head unnaturally bent. “Oops,” he muttered, accidentally trampling over a jerboa. “Sorry ‘bout that. ‘Scuse me.” After a few more collisions, Otto arrived at the crater’s edge. “What’d I miss? Why is everyone so quiet?” He cocked his already twisted head to the side.
“What are you doing out here?” Polyphema bellowed, clawing her way toward the owl. “You need to get under that net—now! Don’t you know the beast is coming? Coming for us all!” Desperately, the tuatara reached out, hoping to grab hold of Otto’s wing. The crowd stirred, uneasy.
“Come now,” Polyphema said, clearly flattening the edge in her voice. “It’s for your own protection. And everyone else’s as well. If the beast sees you, then—”
“Then what?” challenged Dawn. “What will happen? What do your visions say? And where is this beast you’ve described?”
But as soon as the words left her mouth, Dawn sensed something strange.
The air felt heavy and charged.
The ground began to tremble below her.
The wind started to blow and quickly turned gusty. It whipped their faces, sending clouds of ash swirling around them.
And then…
BOOM!