A NEW LEADER

Since the last full moon, El Garro had watched seven Luna moths hatch, listened to hundreds of stories and talked until his voice was hoarse. It was late afternoon, and he lay on the map rock, awaiting the cool of evening and ceremonies it would bring. Strange, he thought, how little sleep I need these days. Most afternoons found him here, in the Great Clearing, staring at the map rock and longing for word from the search party.

Though he was awake off and on during the day, El Garro actually slept more than he knew, like most insomniacs. He dozed, dreamlessly.

Just at dusk, Blaze landed unnoticed in the Clearing. She had slept that day in a pine atop the White Cliffs, preferring to arrive as evening began, so she would have enough time to find El Garro. Walking around the map rock and studying El Garro, Blaze was shocked. In the weeks she had been gone, El Garro had shrunk, losing weight and changing from the massive commanding armadillo to this fragile one. He’s still alive, she thought. That’s what Corrie will care about.

Blaze hopped onto the rock and, carefully avoiding the injured forelegs, she shook El Garro’s back.

El Garro blinked and looked up at the bird’s wings spread above him. What was it? A vulture? Then, he saw it was Blaze, the barn owl. “Oh! What news?” El Garro’s heart was in his throat, his feet suddenly chilled.

Blaze clicked her bill. “News! Corrie and Victor are very near the eagle’s nest. By now, maybe, they have climbed the tallest peak and have found the Faralone Falls.”

“The Falls! Tell me,” El Garro whispered. Excitement made him stand, so he was eye-to-eye with the bird who had hopped to the ground.

“I know nothing else,” Blaze said. “But soon they will find the Falls. The eagles nest near the tallest peak. Another owl told me. It can’t be wrong.”

El Garro looked at the leprosy eating away his forelegs. Blaze didn’t know if the trekkers were successful. He sank down to his belly. “Tell me about the trekking,” he said.

Blaze told him of the last day she had seen Victor, Rafael, Galen and Corrie. She had forgotten he didn’t know anything about Rafael, so she explained where they found him. As she talked, she watched the shifting emotions on the old armadillo’s face. He was easy to read, Blaze thought. The news of finding Rafael excited him, of course, but not as much as fresh news about Corrie. His focus was personal now, instead of worrying about issues of the Colony.

So it was no surprise when El Garro explained, “Tonight, I”ll name a new Colony leader. You must stay and report news of the trekkers to him. He’ll send out more searchers.”

Blaze agreed. “Much wisdom. Before you leave on your last trek, message for Corrie?”

El Garro closed his eyes.

As the moments passed and dusk deepened into night, Blaze thought he had gone to sleep.

But he roused himself and said, “Tell her: She’s always been my ‘Corazon,’ my heart. And when I go to the Father of Souls, it will be my delight to tell stories of her and her mother.” Looking over Blaze’s shoulder, he realized other armadillos were arriving for the ceremony. “Blaze, stay. Tell Corrie about this ceremony.”

Blaze gazed at her old friend with sad affection. “Hoo! I stay. When you leave, I will talk to the new leader.” She flapped silently to a nearby oak from which she could observe without interference.

Those who had known El Garro all their lives gathered before him with heavy hearts. They had honored this elder all month with song and story. They grieved he was choosing to leave, but also rejoiced in the manner of his going.

El Garro watched them come in family groups, mothers and fathers with their baby quads, and a few parents with the eldest of previous quads who had yet to take a mate. Once again, he was struck with the importance of family to his people, and again he was struck with sadness for his Anabel and Corrie and his other daughters who were trekking, and all the other family members missing because they must trek.

Last to arrive were the four nominees, Tomas, Juan, Kemen, and Felix—the brightest and strongest and best. They moved easily through the crowd, stopping to touch a baby, or speak to a friend, or accept best wishes. When they joined El Garro on the rock, the crowd settled into an expectant hush.

The moon was straight overhead when El Garro gathered his courage—for this night required courage—and stood.

He called, “Friends and family, nieces and nephews. We are gathered here to name a new Colony leader. This month, I’ve slept in your homes and in the dens these four dug. I have seen your needs and observed their strengths. I am ready to name a new leader.”

The moonlight was so bright El Garro could even see the young armadillos playing in the back of the Great Clearing where firs grew in a thick clump. Above them, Blaze’s white plumage was dimly visible in the oak.

First, he had to deal with those he would not appoint as leader. “Tomas,” El Garro called.

The crowd cheered nervously as Tomas stepped forward. Tomas took a noisy breath and held it.

El Garro said, “Tomas, your courage and strength are amazing, and your den is deep and wide. But I have this against you: you have no stories. Though I slept in your den and gifted you with a story of bravery, I received no story in return. I’ve waited and listened, but I’ve never heard you tell a story.”

Tomas seemed to consider El Garro’s words and sighed, “It is true I don’t care for stories and have never learnt them.” He rose on hind legs and punched the air. “I pledge my strength to the next Colony leader,” he said, and then stepped off the map rock. A path opened for him, and he made his way to the back of the crowd.

Time for the next one, another who wasn’t suited to lead.  El Garro called, “Juan.”

The brown armadillo stepped forward and felt a surge of excitement. Everyone focused on him, so he stood straighter and looked more solemn.

El Garro said, “Your storytelling is strong and exciting. You challenge us with stories of the ancients and our neighbors alike. In fact, you only seem to come to life when you are telling stories. But I have this against you: you need the family more than the family needs you. Still, the family does need you and your strength and your stories.”

His eyes puzzled, Juan looked around. Here and there in the crowd, a head nodded. Seeing this, he nodded, too, and managed a pretty speech. “I am devoted to the family, no matter what the circumstances, and will do my best to compose songs and collect stories to help the next Colony leader.” He stepped off the rock and disappeared into the crowd.

“Kemen,” El Garro called.

From his left, Felix gasped. El Garro ignored him and turned to Kemen on his right.

Though it was obvious that Kemen wasn’t the new leader, he stepped forward.

El Garro said, “You charm us with the voice of the earth itself. In your words are the power of thunder and the beauty of a dandelion. We need you to remind us to consider the land. But I have this against you: you understand the seasons of the earth more than you understand the moods of the family. You look outward, but a leader must look both outward and inward.”

Kemen stepped off the map rock and dug a claw into the dirt. “As this earth is witness, I pledge my strengths to the new Colony leader.”

Now, El Garro turned to his left and confronted Felix.

Felix stood unmoving, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

El Garro said, “I have this against you: you aren’t the strongest of the family; you aren’t the best storyteller; you aren’t the best steward of the land. But this I know: you love the family more than any other. These are exciting times. We are close to Faralone Falls. If we find it, we will become inhabitants of this land, instead of vagabonds. You will see, in your lifetime, great changes.”

Then, El Garro closed his eyes and gave a weary jerk of his head.

Felix seemed to understand. “I accept the title of Colony Leader.” His voice was strong, carrying across the Great Clearing—just as a leader’s voice should be.

A cheer arose.

Felix smiled in return, a shy smile.

Around the clearing, armadillos had wet, shiny eyes like those of their new leader.

Felix’s eyes scanned the crowd and focused on one armadillo, “Nalda.”

She joined him on the map rock, which set off another round of cheering, for she was well liked among the family.

While everyone cheered Felix and Nalda, El Garro backed away from the front of the rock, where attention focused on the young armadillos. He stepped backward off the rock, and continued to walk backward, until he felt a shrub behind him. He turned and dashed into the undergrowth. Parting a branch, he peered out. No one had noticed his absence, yet. He was, at long last, a vagabond on a trek.

.