“I don’t see him anywhere!” cried the pangolin. The black, foul-smelling smoke filled his sensitive nostrils and stung his eyes.
“Bismark!” Dawn coughed. “Where are you?”
As if in reply, a shrill cry rang out overhead.
“Mon dieeeuuuuuu!”
“Oh goodness!” cried Tobin. Above him, the sugar glider whipped and whirled in the smoke, limbs akimbo, eyes bulging. The pangolin reached up and out with his clumsy digging claws, using his tail to maintain his balance, but his arms were far too short to grab hold of his friend. “What do we do?” he asked Dawn. Panic rang in his voice.
But before the fox could reply, the angry earth seemed to calm. The ground ceased its shaking. The smoke thinned to a wisp, and then faded into the air. Nervously, Dawn and Tobin looked up.
Bismark hung still against the sky, his billowing flaps still full of the rising hot air. “I’m okay!” he yelled. A proud grin flashed on his face as, for a moment, he defied the laws of nature and tasted the sweet nectar of true flight. Then, slowly, his expression shifted to one of pure dread. His ascent slowed, then stopped, and now he was falling downward, faster and faster, right toward a new smoldering split in the earth.
“Use your flaps!” cried the fox.
Desperately the sugar glider tried, flailing and flapping like mad. But it was no use—gravity and time were against him, and, just like that, Bismark vanished into the crack in the ground.
“Bismark?” Dawn yelped. A lump formed in her throat as she anxiously awaited an answer, a sign that he was unharmed.
But nothing came.
For a brief moment, the fox and the pangolin stood, mouths open in shock. Then, at once, they sprinted toward the deep hole and peered over its edge.
“I…I don’t see anything….” Tobin’s voice trailed off. All he could make out below were thick swirls of smoke. His stomach tightened with unspeakable dread. He wiped large beads of sweat from his scales—the mouth of the hole was radiating intense heat—then he glanced sideways at Dawn. Her usually calm face was stricken with horror.
“He must be down there,” she said.
The fox’s mind spun, and her heart felt heavy and pained. What could she do? How could she save her friend? Was it too late?
“The birds!” she exclaimed. “They could help!” But as she squinted through the smoke, she saw that they had already vanished. Thinking quickly, Dawn leaped over the sizzling pockets of earth to the crater a few feet away. Perhaps they could use part of the net to reel Bismark back up to safety. But as she peered over the crater’s edge, her stomach sank. The net had already fallen deep into the smoldering pit.
Dawn swallowed hard, trying her best to push away the thought that she might never see Bismark, or hear his voice, or roll her eyes at him, ever again.
“Dios-mio! Mon dieu!” A high-pitched, familiar voice rose from the depths of the earth.
The fox’s hair stood on end.
“Bismark!” yelped Tobin.
Dawn raced back to the pangolin. They peered into the hole once again. The smoke had thinned, and now they could see Bismark clinging to a narrow ledge with a single paw. The two friends shuddered. The space below the sugar glider was so deep and so dark, they could not even see where it ended.
“This is it!” Bismark wailed. “This is the end! Il finale! La fin!” With his free paw, Bismark waved dramatically. His face was crumpled with a strange blend of terror and frustration. “I’ve always wanted to go out with a bang,” he began, “but this was not the way I imagined it!”
Dawn squinted down at the sugar glider. With his arm strained and fatigued and his paw coated with sweat, his grip on the ledge was loosening. “Hold on!” she yelled.
But Bismark shook his head. “It’s no use. I cannot.” His trembling voice was growing hoarse. “Hasta luego, my sweet! Fare thee well, mon amour! I shall see you and your tawny tail in another life.” And then, with lovelorn eyes and puckered lips, Bismark’s paw slipped from its hold, and he tumbled into the deep, deep hole.
And so did Tobin’s tongue. Like a giant, pink jump rope, Tobin unfurled it, and it waggled and waved in the depths of the blistering canyon as Tobin aimed it at Bismark, trying to lasso him.
Got him! The sticky surface of Tobin’s tongue made contact with Bismark, stopping his rapid fall.
The sugar glider, eyes tightly shut, let out an ear-piercing shriek. “Death has a tongue!” he cried. “I am being swallowed by death!” Bismark squirmed and convulsed, which only resulted in the tongue wrapping even tighter around his body.
Despite his friend’s flailing and the sweltering heat, Tobin’s tongue held strong. Dawn grabbed hold of his armored body and dragged him backward, and together they reeled in the still-yammering Bismark. The trio collapsed on the ground in a heap.
“Is everyone okay?” gasped the fox.
Tobin slowly rose to his feet. The earth was finally still. “I’m fine,” he wheezed. “My tongueth juth a little bit blithtered.” He held his tongue in his paws and showed the swollen red lumps.
“Oh mon dieu!” Bismark yelped in horror.
“I’m all right, really,” said Tobin. “Ith juth a thsmall burn.”
“No, no, no.” Bismark waved away the pangolin’s words. Then he raised his paw to his own forehead. “I’m not talking about you, amigo. I’m talking about me!”
Dawn and Tobin turned toward the sugar glider. Besides a few minor scratches and a thick coat of ash on his fur, he appeared to be completely fine. But then he turned around, exposing a totally singed, utterly hairless rearend.
Dawn and Tobin stared for a moment. Then they erupted in laughter.
“Funny, is it?” snapped Bismark. “Pah!” The sugar glider twisted his torso so he could examine his tiny, bare bottom. “I look ridiculo!” he cried, flailing his arms overhead. “Unsightly, stupido, stripped!”
“Don’t worry, Bithmark,” giggled Tobin. “You thstill look—ow!” The pangolin winced and raised a paw to his mouth.
Bismark patted his friend on the back. “Yes, mi amigo. I suppose you and your lasso of a tongue speak the truth—I still look handsome, indeed.”
Dawn sidled next to the sugar glider and looked at his big, brown eyes. “I’m sorry you were hurt, Bismark. We should have stuck together.”
Bismark’s ash-covered face spread into a grin. “No worries, ma chérie. My rear is like my heart, burning forever with love for you! I see your love clearly now—you cannot live without me.” The sugar glider sighed blissfully. “Neither fire nor fumes, crest nor crater, fortress nor foe shall ever come between us!”
Dawn lowered her snout and smiled down at her two loyal friends. “Yes,” Dawn agreed. “The Brigade stays together.” For a moment, the fox relished the moment of peace and camaraderie. Then the wind picked up, and she lifted her gaze toward the forest. “Come,” she said, already starting to move. “Let’s go check on the others. We must make sure they are safe from the beast.”