The Fallen Star. Tracey Hecht
it was exposed and outstretched, he eagerly used it to lap at his share of the fruit.
“Would you expect anything less, muchacho?” said Bismark. His face shone with the sticky pulp of his own piece, which he eagerly devoured. “Everyone knows my tree grows the sweetest, tastiest pomelos in the valley.”
As the three friends chewed contentedly, they watched the streaks of light from the shooting stars gradually dim. The moon began to fade with the approach of sunrise. After a lone shooting star vanished across the horizon, Dawn rose to her feet.
“That seems to have been the last of them,” she said. The fox swallowed her final piece of pomelo and stretched her willowy limbs. “Perhaps it’s time for bed.”
Bismark leaped to his feet. “My thoughts exactly, chérie!” he said, scrambling to her side. “A glider this grandissimo needs his beauty rest, after all. Allow me to walk with you to your lovely home.”
Tobin yawned, his eyelids drooping. Like his two friends, the pangolin was nocturnal: asleep by day, awake by night. But as he started to rise, something twinkling in the distance caught his attention.
“Oh goodness, wait! There’s one more,” he cried, pointing to the horizon. Indeed, another shooting star had appeared. Only this one seemed different. It was brighter—much, much brighter—than the others. As it streaked across the sky, it seemed as if the entire valley was suddenly illuminated by a second, more dazzling moon.
“Ooh! Let’s all make a wish on this one—the brightest of them all,” said the pangolin. “I wish…” His scaly brow furrowed. “I wish that we could have as many pomelos as we could ever eat!”
“Amigo! Has all that sugar gone to your skull?” Bismark scrambled higher into his tree to watch the star’s fiery flight. “Everyone knows that if you say your wish aloud, it won’t come true. Of course, it goes without saying what I wish for—isn’t that right, mi bella?” Bismark said, returning to Dawn with his small hand on his heart.
But the fox said nothing in response. Instead, her amber eyes narrowed as she tracked this final star shooting across the southern sky. This one wasn’t fading away like the others. No—this one looked like it was growing brighter. And brighter. And brighter still.
“Bismark, Tobin…” Dawn’s voice carried an air of alarm.
“Yes, what is it my sweet? Has the moment arrived for us finally to declare our true feelings? Has this brilliant blaze in the sky sparked the flame of love in your heart?” Bismark’s voice trailed off. “Hmm, this star sure is taking its sweet time falling…and falling…and falling…”
The sugar glider blinked and rubbed his eyes. The star’s flame was now so bright, he could hardly focus on it.
Increasing in speed, the shooting star dipped lower and lower.
Tobin’s mouth dropped open. “D-Dawn? What’s going on?” The frightened pangolin’s voice came out in a whisper.
The fox stared in disbelief. The star was traveling closer and closer. It was heading right toward them!
“Great Scott! It’s coming for me!” Bismark cried.
“Everyone, hold on!” commanded the fox.
The three friends dug their claws into the tree bark and ducked as a blinding ball of light shot overhead. It sizzled and buzzed and hissed as it traveled through the sky in a low arc. Its fiery blaze stunned their eyes and forced them to crouch for cover.
And then, just as fast, all went silent, and the sky darkened.
After a tense moment, the trio slowly gazed up.
Bismark rubbed his big brown eyes. “Phew! That was a close one. But nothing I was scared of, of course. Just a—”
BAM!
Without warning, a massive explosion rippled through the valley with a deafening roar. The tops of the trees waved violently in a huge blast of wind. Entire branches of pomelos splintered off and tumbled to the ground, their leaves twisting and turning in the whirling, swirling air.
“Mon dieu!” Bismark clung to Dawn’s leg in terror.
The earth shook, boulders rattled and jumped, and Bismark’s tree lurched, hurling the three from their perches. Tobin and Dawn dropped straight to the forest floor with heavy, headfirst thuds. Bismark tried to hold fast to his branch, but it snapped off in his claws. With a crack, he was sent hurtling high into the air, like a stone flung from a slingshot.
“This calls for the flaps!” the glider cried, desperately stretching his limbs to catch a gust of wind. But the wild, whistling air blew his flaps inside out, and the next thing he knew, he was spiraling down, down, down to the earth in a rain of falling pomelos and leaves.
“Oomph!”
Tobin groaned. Then he peeled his sensitive eyes open and cringed. The pangolin had taken quite a nasty tumble. His skull was throbbing, and his limbs felt stiff and sore as he gingerly uncurled his body. He had rolled into a tight ball before hitting the ground—this was the position he took whenever he felt frightened or threatened. But now he sat upright, taking a deep breath and scanning his surroundings nervously.
“Dawn? Bismark?” he called into the darkness.
Tobin looked in every direction but saw only piles of fallen branches and brush. Three nearby trees had been uprooted whole, and several large boulders had tumbled forward, careening into each other. What happened? the pangolin wondered, rubbing his head, his thoughts cloudy. Then he remembered: the falling star! He frantically looked to the sky.
But now, all seemed calm. The full moon was hanging serenely above the forest. The stars that circled it were twinkling, not falling. Tobin exhaled.
“Oh goodness,” he murmured with relief. But then he realized that the moon was hanging high in the sky, even though it had been nearly sunup before the fallen star had crashed to earth. That meant the whole day had passed! Had he really been unconscious that long? The pangolin’s heart started to race.
“Dawn? Bismark?” he called out again, this time with more urgency. There was no sign of his friends. He dug at the piles of debris, searching for them. Rocks, clods of dirt, and grass shot out behind him. “Oh goodness! Where is everyone?” he whimpered as he moved among the rubble.
“Tobin?” a voice called out.
The pangolin froze. Someone was burrowing out of a pile of leaves and branches near one of the fallen trees. Someone with tawny fur and a familiar, white-tipped tail.
“Dawn!” he cried. The pangolin raced over to help free his friend. Then he brushed the leaves off her coat.
Dawn shook the remaining leaves from her limbs. She took note of the moonlight and narrowed her eyes. “An entire day has passed, but we are lucky to be unharmed.” Then, noticing the sugar glider’s absence, her voice tightened. “Tobin, where is Bismark?”
Dawn and Tobin gazed up to search the heights of Bismark’s pomelo tree. Its branches, normally covered with thick leaves and heavy fruit, were almost entirely bare. There was no sign of the glider anywhere.
“Oh goodness!” cried Tobin.
Dawn quickly began to clear the earth, flinging aside the branches and pomelos that littered the forest floor. Tobin, meanwhile, lowered his keen snout to the ground, nostrils flaring. He could track almost anything with his superior sense of smell.
“Bismark! Where are you?” he called as