THE GUARDIAN

“Corrie.” Victor gasped for air. “I’ve got to rest.”

Corrie sighed in exasperation. After spotting the animal tracks, she was determined to get over this hill tonight, so she had pushed past Victor and set a rapid pace. While waiting for him to catch his breath, she closed her eyes and ignored her stomach, which ached more from anxiety than hunger or thirst.

To distract herself, Corrie studied the valley as if she might draw a map rock. Soft, under the full moon, a line of hills stretched east-to-west. To the south were smaller, rounder hills. Following the smooth backbone of the highest hills around to the east, the Ozarks tapered off into smaller hills. Far to the west, a stream cut a channel through the hills and ran southward. Though glints of water reflected in the moonlight, the stream was thin; water was low from lack of rain. The twin peaks lay north of them, but on this side of the hill, they couldn’t see their destination.

They were high enough that below, a pale owl hovered over a grassy clearing.

“It’s Blaze!” Corrie cried.

Victor hurried to her side. The owl dipped, touched the earth briefly, and then rose with something squirming in its claws.

“It’s bigger than Blaze,” Victor said. “Probably a male barn owl.”

Blaze’s absence nagged at Corrie. It was one more unsolved mystery that had to wait until after they found the eagle’s nest. She turned away. “Ready?”

Victor shook out his hind legs, and then nodded.

The trail wound upward, sometimes along the edge of the cliff, sometimes under the trees which grew on this part of the hillside. They rested again and feasted on a termite nest that Victor found. Corrie’s stomachache eased, but they still hadn’t found water. Thirsty and tired, they plodded upward again.

Corrie led the way along the cliff face. The full moon had set and they needed to find a place to sleep for the day. Victor followed noisily, his fatigue making him grunt with every step. Corrie warned him to be quieter, but he struggled, and she wouldn’t let them stop until first light.

She jogged along, and then stopped to wait for Victor. When he caught up, she turned back to the pathway. “Oh!”

Before her stood a shaggy beast, three times her height; its sharp, ebony hooves ground the dry earth into a fine powder. From its horns, she guessed it was a male; from his angry eyes, she guessed they were invading his territory. It said, “Wha-a-a-at are you?”

Victor stepped in front of Corrie, shielding her and blocking her view. “We’re armadillos. What are you?”

“Mountain goat. Never heard of armadi-i-i-illo. What do you wa-a-a-ant?”

Straining to see around Victor, Corrie could do nothing but stare. She had heard of goats, but never seen one. This one was four times her height, with tan hair and a tuft of white on its chin.

Victor said, “We want to pass over the hill.”

“No-o-o.” Behind him, other figures moved, probably the goat’s mate and babies.

He has good reason to guard the path, Corrie thought.

Victor tried to reason: “But we only—“

The goat charged straight at Victor and butted him. Victor flipped onto his back. The goat rose above Victor, ready to trample his soft belly, but Corrie charged forward and slammed into the goat’s back legs, throwing him off balance. The impact stunned Corrie. She backed away, shaking her head; a dull ache settled between her eyes. Victor lay on his back, lashing about, trying to get his legs beneath himself.

The goat lowered his head again and caught Victor’s armor with a horn. Victor rolled. The momentum was so intense, Victor couldn’t stop himself, and he tumbled toward the edge. Corrie raced to him, threw herself forward and grabbed his tail. His rough skin slipped through her claws, so she dug them in and held on. They slipped toward the edge until Victor struck a large rock that stopped him right at the cliff’s edge.

Scrambling up, Corrie and Victor fled down the path. Their armor would protect them from sharp horns; the real danger was that the goat could butt them off the cliff. Running helter-skelter, Victor’s long tail hit Corrie’s face. She jerked backward, but the goat’s hooves pounded behind her. She sprinted and drew even with Victor.

The goat didn’t follow them far, just to the edge of his territory. There, he paced back and forth across the trail, guarding his home and family.

Corrie and Victor peered at the belligerent goat from behind the safety of a large rock.

“What now?” Corrie wailed.

Victor asked, “Can we go over the hill?”

Corrie abandoned the trail and headed straight up the hill. She struggled a minute, then returned to the path. “It’s too steep,” she said. “It would take days that way.”

“But the goat won’t let us pass through his territory.”

They looked at each other in dismay. Corrie said what both feared. “We have to go back down and find a way around.”

Miserable, Victor nodded. “We’ve lost a night, maybe two.”

Corrie’s legs cramped, her underbelly was scratched, her head and stomach ached, and her mouth was as dry as dust. Fatigue held her in a gray fog, but her resolve never failed. They would find Faralone Falls before El Garro took his last sleep. They had to. She turned and scrambled down the hill, ignoring Victor’s groans behind her.

.