20
Help!
move, following the sound of the cry.
Tobin ran after her.
Bismark, however, scurried up the trunk of an elm tree then hopped out on a low-hanging branch. Proudly, he gazed down at his friends running into the forest. Then he puffed out his chest and called into the night, “We shall be bold in adventure! We shall be brave in challenge! The Nocturnal Brigade to the rescue!”
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Chapter Three
TRAPPED
“Help! Help me!”
The voice cried out again—more urgent this time.
“It’s coming from that den up ahead!” shouted Dawn, calling back to her friends. Despite her tired limbs and dry throat, the fox continued to race through the trees. But the night’s heat was heavy, and her full speed was not nearly as fast as usual.
“Oh…goodness,” huffed Tobin, trying to keep up.
“Come on Señor Slow-Scales!” Bismark yelled down from the treetops. “Pick up the pace like your buddy Bismark—macho marsupial, glider extraordinaire, flying wonder!”
Despite his thirst and fatigue, Tobin forced his legs to move faster. He raced through the dried brush ________
23
THE NOCTURNALS
and wove through the leafless trees. Finally, exhausted and breathless, the Brigade reached the den Dawn had seen.
Though its main chamber lay underground, the entrance was visible under a ledge of rock. It was framed with dried mud and sticks, but it had caved in. Now, it was just a heap of dry earth. What caused this den to collapse? they wondered.
“Help! Helllllp! Is somebody there?” the voice cried out again.
Tobin gasped. “Oh goodness! An animal is trapped inside!” He bent his snout toward the dirt. “We’re coming!” he called. “Hold on!”
Dawn circled the den, searching for a different
24
Trapped
way in. There was none. “We have no choice,” she said. “We’ll have to dig.”
“Help!” the voice shrieked again. “Help me, please!”
Dawn and Tobin started to dig. Dawn loosened the dirt with her paws, and Tobin pierced and scooped it with his powerful claws.
Bismark, meanwhile, stood atop a small rock, a safe distance away from the dirty work. ”Yes, si, good job, amigos!” he called, cupping his paws to his mouth. “Now just listen to me for some pointers. I will direct this rescue operation. My knowledge of engineering is unmatched, after all.” Bismark cleared his throat. “First, we must support the wall to avoid cave-ins. Then we need to carry out the dirt. But most importantly—”
Dawn grunted and tried to ignore her friend. ________
25
THE NOCTURNALS
When it came to messy or hard work, Bismark preferred the role of maestro—“overseeing” the work rather than doing it. But it really didn’t matter. Since he was the size of a small chipmunk, he didn’t have the strength to be of much help anyway.
“Dig! Dig! Dig!” Tobin urged himself on as he tunneled into the den at full speed.
“Pangolino! Dawn, mon amour! Do you hear me?” Bismark shouted. “You should really consider the brilliant strategies I am laying out for you. Under my leadership, we can accomplish this task so much more—blegh!” A clump of flying dirt smacked Bismark in the face, landing right in his wide-open yapper. “Thwip-thwap-thwup,” he sputtered, spitting it out.
“Good work, Tobin,” said Dawn as the pangolin finished plowing through most of the soil. “We’re almost there!” the fox called into the den.
“Okay!” A faint call rose from the chamber beneath the ground. Tobin’s heart leaped in his chest. He knew that voice sounded familiar!
“It’s Cora!” he gasped. Tobin looked at Dawn in alarm. It was the Brigade’s beloved wombat friend. The pangolin’s pulse quickened. Dawn’s amber eyes widened. Then they started to dig again—harder and faster than ever.
26
Trapped
“Don’t worry, Cora!” called Tobin, clawing the earth. “We’re coming!”
“Oui, we’re coming!” echoed Bismark, still perched on his rock. But even the sugar glider could not just stand there and watch, knowing that it was Cora in need. And so, with a wave of his flaps, Bismark finally made his way forward and landed next to his fellow Brigade-mates. “Mademoiselle Cora!” he said, yelling over his digging friends. “Have no fear! I, Bismark, savior of the night, rescuer of wombats, am here! I shall save you!” And then he joined his friends…flicking a tiny bit of dirt with a single toe.
“I can see her!” Tobin cried as he and Dawn broke through the last of the dirt. They jumped through the opening and descended into the den.
“Cora!” Tobin clawed through a scratchy patch of tumbleweed and, at last, reached the wombat. Breathless, the pangolin bent down beside her. “Are you okay?” he asked.
The wombat could only sputter in reply. But it took just one look at her to know the answer. Her body was trembling, and her ribcage showed through her skin. Tobin wondered when she last had food or a drink.
Gently, the pangolin held Cora’s face in his paws. Then he unfurled his long tongue and carefully ________
27
THE NOCTURNALS
licked the grime from her cheeks. Tobin smiled. Cora’s fur was dull and her nose was chapped, but her eyes still glimmered like always. “Thank goodness we found you,” he whispered.
Immediately, Cora brightened. Then, slowly, she inched her front paw forward until it was nestled in Tobin’s claw.
The pangolin felt his scales tingle, and a warm, fuzzy feeling—the one he always seemed to get around Cora—spread from the top of his scaly head all the way down to his claws.
Dawn bent toward the wombat. “How did this happen?” she asked, eager to gather some information.
Cora swallowed hard. “I don’t know,” she said at last. She took a shallow breath. “It seemed to collapse out of nowhere!”
“It was probably from the drought,” Dawn reasoned. “Mud can dry into brittle dirt and crumble.” The fox circled the chamber, studying the walls that remained. “Your den’s walls must have caked up, flaked off in pieces, then collapsed.”
“That’s probably what happened,” Cora agreed. “It’s just impossible to know for sure.” The wombat picked up a clump of tumbleweed then tossed it aside. “This tumbleweed blew into my den by the bundle last ________
28
Trapped
night. I could barely even see through it!”
As Cora spoke, another piece of the odd tumbleweed rolled into the den.
“Goodness, it’s everywhere,” Tobin remarked.
Bismark scrunched his face in disgust. “I’ll handle this one,” he said. The sugar glider reeled back his puny leg. Then he kicked at the tuft of dried grass, plant stalks, and prickly fluff—but the ball clung to his foot. “Blech! Get it off me!” he shouted.
The sugar glider shook his foot in the air, flinging off most of the dry, grassy pieces. But one stick remained caught in his toes. “Oh no you don’t!” he muttered. Bismark bent over and pawed at his foot. “Be