THE FIRST CLUE
Be silent. Blaze winged back to the armadillos. The pine branch dipped when she landed. Quick. Sidestep. Sidestep. The deep shadows by the trunk hid her white plumage.
Below, Victor leaned forward and whispered loudly to Corrie. “We don’t need Blaze.”
Blaze closed her beak tight. Angry. But no sound. Silent.
Victor continued, “Ah can find the way without that trouble maker. Let’s rest a bit, then travel another hour or so tonight.”
Corrie’s belly sank to the ground in a sign of submission.
Blaze hissed—softly—in disgust. She wanted to help the armadillos. As a chick, she had hated foggy nights. She hated being left alone in the hollow tree, a nest large enough for a dozen chicks. Their tree had been near a swamp and full of drifting mists. Blaze had hated not knowing where her parents had flown in search of food, had hated the night her father returned without her mother. Lost, he said, somewhere in the swamp. And they never learned of her fate.
To Blaze, the armadillo trekkers were lost in a fog, too. So few here—though, she knew there were many clans to the south. But here, the place they called the frontier, their armadillo trekkers were lost in a vast forest. The forest was so big that no one could keep track of the trekkers. Lost in a fog of green. Lost. She wanted to help find the missing trekkers.
But how? That Victor was trouble.
A pain gnawed at her gizzard. She thrust off the pine. Wings flapped once then held steady. Blaze flew north through the large oaks.
Her gizzard cramped. She aimed for and caught a large branch. Blaze blinked. Miserable. Wait, wait. She shook her head from side to side. Acid filled her mouth. The pellet of mouse fur and bones came up. She spit it out. Ah, better. She clicked her tongue gently to herself. Empty stomach: time to eat.
Fly low and listen. Blaze listened for small sounds on the forest floor. Maybe she could find a mouse gnawing on a dry stem of grass. Perhaps it would be a baby bird.
She heard a large creature. Too big to eat.
Listen for small, small sounds. There. She swooped, aiming at the sound, and grabbed. Up. In her right talon, a frog squirmed.
“Shrrreee!” she called in triumph. Lunch. All this flying made her hungry. She liked flying, exploring. Her nest-mates liked to stay home, to keep other owls out of their territory. Boring. She liked armadillos. They traveled. She liked their stories. Bernardo and Isidoro. The Faralone Falls. Stories of power and comfort. But Victor needed to learn respect.
An oak loomed close. Blaze landed. She bent and studied the squirming frog. A good lunch!
Leaves rustled. Her head popped up. What was that noise? She turned toward the main trunk. A dark spot was too quiet. The frog tried to jump. Blaze shoved it against the branch. “Whhhhoooo?” she called.
“What be ye doing in these our woods?”
Blaze blinked at the gruff voice. “Eating.”
“Who be ye?”
Blaze didn’t know if she should answer or fly away. But curiosity got the better of her. “Blaze, the barn owl. Who be ye?”
“Gillet the Raccoon. Ye be in my woods. Go.”
This was the large creature she had heard. It had been following her. Why? Blaze held the frog tighter. She hopped closer to the voice. “Wait.” She might not get another chance like this. “Long Pool. How do I get there?”
A dark figure emerged from the shadows. White belly fur, dark face. “Ye be from out country, from the flatlands, ye not knowing where to find Long Pool.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes.”
“What business have ye at Long Pool?”
“Not me. The armadillos. Long Pool is on their map.”
“Ah. They be the ones who carry their own armor. Like the turtle-folk. Why be they in these our woods? Do they invade this our forest, or do they come in friendship? I ask fer all the peoples of these here valleys.” The old raccoon crept closer. His head tilted back and forth until it looked like his black mask was seesawing.
“Friendship,” Blaze answered, and then chittered in a comforting manner. “They seek family and friends. For three years, many have traveled. All have disappeared. Do you know them?”
“They come. They go. We don’t talk to them.”
“Long Pool, then,” Blaze repeated. It was the first step of their journey. It would help to get clear directions to this first landmark. “Do you know where Long Pool is?”
The raccoon sighed. “Westward fly for a time or a time and a half. Ye be finding a stream. Follow that there stream north and ye be finding Long Pool.” He paused. “Ye be bringing the armored ones to the Pool?”
“Yes.” To herself, Blaze gloated. Tomorrow, I will find Long Pool. Victor will learn respect then. She had thought about abandoning the armadillos entirely. But she liked Galen. And sometimes Corrie. And Victor would have to apologize. Or else he would never find Long Pool.
The raccoon continued, “What be ye doing with the crazy one?”
“Crazy one?”
“Ye be not knowing about the crazy one? An armored one came by here half a moon ago. Now he be in the valley of waters. Before you come to Long Pool, there is a strange place. Smooth humps of rocks rise up, like turtle shells. Creek comes into river there. Follow the creek to the east. Water cuts deep through the turtle rocks. It be falling into a valley that has huge blocks of stone. Water be running there all summer. The armored one, he fell into the valley. No one saw. But there he is. And now, he is crazy. Calls, cries, screams. And digs. He digs and digs, not holes, not dens. Just digging to dig. Crazy.”
Blaze hopped closer to the old raccoon. “Do you know the name of the crazy one?”
“He calls for help and says his name. It be Rafael of the Diego family.”
“Hooooo! Galen’s brother.” Relief swept through her. She felt awful that her relatives had lost track of Galen’s brothers. The failure felt personal, as if her own honor had been at stake. It pleased Blaze that she would bring Galen news of his brother.
“Ye be taking care of the crazy one?”
“We be taking care of him,” agreed Blaze. Galen’s excitement would be boundless.
“Good.” The raccoon turned and ran down the tree trunk.
Blaze listened to it run for a minute. Then the frog squirmed in her talon. Blaze bent to it. Gulp-chirp. Eat fast, Blaze thought. Fly. Find Galen. Galen would help Rafael.
In the distance, she heard a barn owl’s hoot. She answered, and the sound came closer. He called her name. How could owls in these woods know her name? It must be news from home.
.