his grip on the fox’s hind leg, only daring to peek out for a moment. “We are prepared to fight, no matter how long your fangs or how sharp your spikes!”
Terror filled Tobin’s eyes. “We…we are?” A small poof escaped from his rear.
“Mon dieu!” Bismark exclaimed, plugging his nose with his paw. “Can’t you at least aim the other way? Toward the ferocious fiend that approaches us?”
A sudden harsh wind swept through the air, sending a chill down the pangolin’s spine and kicking up the soot at his feet. The wind continued to blow, and soon enough, the Brigade was cloaked in a thick, sandy spiral of dirt. Flying bits of stone, some as large as chestnuts, swirled all around them.
“I can’t see!” Tobin cried as he curled himself into a ball.
“Well, I can’t breathe!” Bismark coughed. “Your stench has completely surrounded me! And now a fleck of ash has flown into my big, beautiful peepers!” The sugar glider crouched and covered his eyes with his flaps.
But Dawn remained standing, determined to see through the dust. Determined to see the creature that headed toward them. She ducked, dodging a black rock that whistled overhead. The swirling ash played tricks on her eyes, making monsters appear and disappear out of the churning air. Reluctantly, the fox hunkered down and covered her face with her paws.
When the wind had at last eased, the Brigade remained huddled close. They could hear the sound of shuffling footsteps.
“Oh mon dieu!” With his flaps still shielding his face, Bismark prepared for the worst. “Is it close?” he sputtered. “I think I feel its breath on my neck! Mon dieu! Mon dieu! I hope it’s not hungry!”
Dawn opened her eyes just a crack. “Look,” she whispered.
Though the shadow had drawn closer, it looked smaller now.
What was the creature’s true size? Dawn, Bismark, and Tobin wondered, holding their breath, waiting to see.
Finally, the figure stepped into a lone beam of moonlight. The Brigade-mates exhaled. It was no larger than Tobin.
“Ha! That’s the puny thing you two were scared of? I knew this monster was all shadow, no substance!” The sugar glider gave a light-hearted wave of his flap and tossed his head back in triumph.
Dawn, however, stood steady as a stone and sank her claws into the ground. Tobin remained close to her side, though he had to admit, there seemed to be no reason for his fears of giant monsters. But as he glanced back at the crater, he could feel doubt gnawing at his gut—something must have caused it, after all. Something big.
“Come, ma chérie,” beckoned Bismark. “Let us approach as a couple.”
The fox took a single step forward and squinted into the dust. The reptilian creature drew closer, its features growing clearer. It had greenish-gray skin, and the angular jaw of an iguana. Its long, spiked tail whipped behind it with every step.
Bismark spun and twirled, trying his best to make an impression. “Well, hello there, newcomer!” He raised his flap in an awkward salute. “Please, por favor—state your name and your purpose.”
The creature paused just a flap’s length away from the sugar glider, but it did not speak.
Bismark scanned the foreigner with his round, dark eyes. “Hmm,” he mused, mischievously stroking his chin. “I have a feeling she’s of the female persuasion, amigos. I’ll handle this.”
He cleared his throat. “Buon giorno, beautiful stranger.” He lowered his high-pitched voice so it sounded as romantic as possible. Looking over his shoulder, making sure Dawn could see, he scrunched his nose and shook his head. This creature was no beauty.
With her glassy dark eyes and fearsome spikes, her appearance was stony and cruel—like an ancient being from an old, forgotten time. But as frightening as she appeared, it was difficult for Bismark to look away from her. Her features were remarkable: the orange dots around her thick neck, the neon-blue streaks lining her eyes, the eerie sheen of her skin. And most of all, the mysterious flicker of light, like a halo, that gleamed from the top of her head.
“Do not be so shy, my spiky sugar plum, my ravishing reptile.”
The stranger still said nothing.
“Mmm, I see,” murmured the sugar glider. “The strong and silent type. Me gusta!”
“Bismark,” hissed Dawn. “Stand back.” The fox shifted her weight. She had never seen a creature like this before. Warily, she eyed the row of spikes that ran from the newcomer’s head to the tip of her tail. The longer, sharper prongs in the middle line of her back looked particularly wicked, though the shorter barbed bands on either side appeared menacing as well. The fox’s breath caught in her throat.
Tobin looked at the creature, standing small and still in the ash. Though he trusted the fox, a twinge of sympathy stung his heart. Yes, the reptile was unfamiliar. But he had once been a stranger himself, timid, scared, and alone.
Carefully, he ventured toward this outsider and looked kindly into her eyes. They were gold with black slits for irises. “Can…can we help you?” he asked.
The reptile met Tobin’s gaze and repeatedly blinked, as though studying the presence before her. Finally, she opened her mouth and spoke. “No,” she replied. Her tone was flat and low. “But I can help you.” Slowly, she closed her eyes and bowed her head, revealing the top of her scale-covered skull. Then, without warning, the grayish-green surface burst open, exposing a gleaming, round orb. The creature had a third eye.
Tobin froze in surprise. Though the creature also stood still, the moonlight flickered off the top of her head, making it seem as if she were moving. As the clouds above shifted the shadows, the pangolin grew aware of his silence.
Make her feel welcome, he thought. He was usually quite good at that. But when he opened his mouth to speak, no words came out. Unsure of what else to do, the pangolin stepped away from the creature, his jaw still hanging slack.
But while Tobin moved back toward the fox, Bismark bounded forward, mesmerized. The stranger remained still and calm.
Interpreting her silence as permission, the sugar glider eagerly stood on his toes, bent over the mysterious eye, and stared into its depths. It shone with a strange glow, as though lit from within. “Mon dieu! It’s like a moonstone,” he said, leaning closer, captivated by his milky reflection.
“Bismark,” snapped Dawn. With a sharp flick of her head, the fox gestured for him to back up.
The reptile smirked. “Don’t worry, fox,” she said smoothly. “This reaction is not unusual.”
The hair on Dawn’s neck pricked on end. With her gaze still fixed on the reptile, she extended a paw toward the sugar glider
