The Nocturnals. Tracey Hecht

      As the first light of day surged above the horizon, Tobin crept toward home. It had been a long night of foraging for food, and the pangolin was feeling tired. “Mmm.” The anteater-like creature yawned and slumped at the base of a tree. “Perhaps I’ll just take a quick rest….” Tobin’s sleepy eyes drooped shut.

      Suddenly, something heavy dropped right on his scaly head.

      “Ouch!”

      The confused pangolin reached for the greenish-yellow object and examined it with his taloned paws. “A pomelo!” he exclaimed. Eagerly, Tobin peeled back the fruit’s thick, spongy rind and took a whiff with his keen, elongated snout. “Heavenly!” He sighed. “Absolutely heavenly!”

      But before he could taste the fruit’s citrusy flesh, a voice screeched down from above. “Thief!” it cried. “Strange creature with back of blades! How dare you steal the bounty of my tree?”

      Tobin dropped the pomelo at once. He was so startled that a small, smelly poof escaped from his rear. “Oh dear,” he mumbled.

      “Pee-yew!” yelled the high-pitched voice.

      Tobin looked up. A small, furry animal was perched in the branches, pinching his nose with one paw. He looked somewhat like a squirrel, with dark round eyes and a long furry tail.

      “That stench! That odor! That tang!” The creature scrunched its face in disgust. “This calls for the flaps.” With that, he extended his arms and legs, revealing the winglike skin that connected his limbs. Frantically, he fanned the still-stinky air.

      “Oh my,” remarked Tobin, staring at the unique appendages. “How elegant.”

      “Ah yes.” The animal sighed. “We sugar gliders are impressive indeed.” He puffed out his chest with pride. “Fine physique…fabulous facial features…phenomenal fitness!” Fueled by his own self-esteem, the sugar glider launched from his perch, allowing the wind to gather gracefully under his wings and carry him to the ground.

      Tobin smiled and stepped toward his new acquaintance. He was just about to introduce himself properly when he heard another strange voice from the brush.

      “Is there a problem?” it said.

      The pangolin turned toward the sound. But this time he did not jump. In contrast to the sugar glider’s shrill pitch, the voice he’d just heard was gentle and soft. Tobin stared into the foliage. “Who’s there?” he asked.

      Out of the green leaves emerged a slender red fox.

      “Oh mon dieu!” The sugar glider swooned, clasping his hands to his heart. “Never have my big brown eyes beheld such beauty outside of my own reflection!” He approached the fox and dropped to one knee. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Bismark: macho marsupial, sweetest of sugar gliders, and your one true love.” Quickly, he snatched the pomelo from under the pangolin’s nose and presented it to the fox. “For you, my lady.”

      The newcomer raised an eyebrow. This bold creature, despite standing on tiptoe, barely reached her knee. She turned to Tobin. “Is everyone all right here?” she asked, twitching her nose. “I thought I smelled trouble.”

      “Si, the stinky one woke me up just as I was about to fall asleep.”

      “Oh, um…excuse me,” responded the pangolin, bashfully shrugging his scales. “I spray my defensive odor when I get scared.” He blushed. “I’m sorry…I can’t help it.”

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