ONE YEAR LATER

Deep in the den under the large bodark, Galen gently stretched and yawned, careful not to disturb the Four Daughters or Corrie. He tiptoed around them, pausing to tuck a bit of moss around Number Three’s—no, Marta’s toes. Corrie hated it when he called their daughters by numbers. He still didn’t see what difference it made, but he humored her. He managed to reach the tunnel entrance without waking anyone. He emerged to see the western sky ablaze with red, coral, and dark purple, while the eastern sky was just dark enough for stars to begin twinkling.

The valley would darken quickly, so he trotted to the pool below the waterfall.  Wading in knee-deep, he turned over a rock in search of a snail. Suddenly, four small forms leaped onto him, forcing him into deep water. He spluttered and swam a bit deeper. They lined up on the shore watching him.

“Papa, we’re hungry.”

That was Nicole, the youngest. Fourth-born were still the hungriest of the litter, he thought with surprise.

Many other things had changed over the last year. Without the curse compelling armadillos to travel northward, their society was changing rapidly. He and Corrie had taken the news back to the Great Clearing, but the armadillos had known things were different long before they arrived. Without the curse’s compulsion to travel, many missing armadillos had wandered home ahead of Galen and Corrie. Galen had a joyful reunion with his brothers, Garcia and Felix, while Corrie rejoiced with her sisters, Bianca, Luz and Alicia.  The returning trekkers only brought confirmation: the curse of the vagabonds was gone.

The ballad-singers had been busy all winter, composing new songs, explaining the trek, honoring Blaze, Rafael, Galen, Corrie, and even Victor, for their parts in the trek. But when the first hint of spring came, Galen and Corrie had left. Almost without discussing it, they had returned to the valley of the Turi’s cave, the place where they had first felt at home. There, they dug a den so snug that even Rafael would have approved. And there, Corrie bore her first litter of Four Daughters. In the next valley over, two of Galen’s Sisters had built dens with their mates. Slowly, the Ozarks were filling with dens of their people.

Galen swam close to shore and tossed snails to his Daughters. They ate and ate until they were full. When he finally emerged from the water, he climbed onto a large, flat rock and gazed at the waterfall.

Corrie appeared in the den’s opening and yawned. She joined Galen on the rock and the Four Daughters huddled close.

“Papa, tell us the story again,” said Number One, who was named Bella.

“Yes,” the Four Daughters chorused. “And don’t leave out anything.”

And Galen began the story, “Listen, then, to the story of the Vagabonds.”

The End

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