is,” hissed Dawn.
The sugar glider shuddered at his friend’s steely tone and eyed her tight grip on his flap. “Don’t be jealous, amore,” he chuckled. “She has nothing on you! Well, besides that extra eye, I suppose.” The sugar glider paused and tilted his face up toward Dawn’s. “But look at us!” he exclaimed. “I have two eyes, you have two eyes—we were made for each other!”
The fox released her hold on the sugar glider and took a bold step toward the stranger. “You said you could help us.”
The reptile grinned, exposing three rows of teeth: two on top, one on bottom.
“Holy smokes!” Bismark gasped. His eyes ran the length of the creature. “Do you have three of everything?”
Eyeing the stranger’s fangs, Dawn bared her own, each as sharp as a needle.
“Let’s start over,” offered the reptile. Though her voice sounded kind and polite, her eyes remained hard and cold. “My name is Polyphema and I am a tuatara.”
“Tutu-what?” Bismark asked. “Tutu-who?”
The stranger released a warm laugh, exposing her teeth once again. Although she had many, there were gaps between them where some were missing. And a large number of those that remained appeared to be worn down to nubs. “A tuatara.”
“I’m sorry,” Tobin said bashfully, “but I’ve never heard of a tuatara.”
“That’s no surprise,” said the reptile. Her smile quickly turned down at the sides. “There are nearly none of us left.”
“Oh goodness,” gasped Tobin. “That’s awful.”
“Yes, it is,” replied Polyphema. “But I prefer not to dwell on all that.” She lifted her chin toward the moon.
“Why are you here?” demanded the fox. She took another step forward, stirring a small cloud of ash. The wind picked up a little, throwing a stinging wave of tiny rocks over them all.
Tobin drew in a breath. There was an obvious edge to Dawn’s voice, and it made his heart lurch in his chest. Why was she being so harsh?
He looked at his new acquaintance: nearly extinct, yet so strong. He smiled, admiring this strange tuatara. But then he saw his leader: determined, intense, and reliable. Suddenly, he was not sure what to think. Was he supposed to be taking sides?
“I told you, I am here to help,” said Polyphema. “Do you see that?” she asked, pointing at the gigantic hole in the earth. “Do you see what’s at the bottom of it?
The three Nocturnals turned back to face the crater. Tobin blinked. With the arrival of the strange, three-eyed creature before him, he had nearly forgotten about the large shape pressed into the earth below, the shape that had scared him so badly before.
“Bien sûr!” replied Bismark. “How could we miss it? Just because we have two eyes and not three does not make us blind.”
“Well, what do you see?” asked Polyphema.
The sugar glider scratched at his bald spot. “Isn’t it obvious, Tutu? I see the monstrous mark of a beast!”
“Yes,” the tuatara agreed, “but I see something more.” She paused, then dramatically closed all three eyes, as though searching for some sort of vision. “I see the beast itself.”
“Oh goodness!” gasped Tobin. Quickly, he coiled into a ball. “Where?” His voice echoed from deep beneath his scales. “What do we do? Is it close?”
“No, no,” Polyphema assured him. “It’s not here.”
The pangolin breathed a short sigh of relief and uncurled his body. Then he scrunched his long snout. “I don’t understand, though,” he murmured. “You said that you see it.” He surveyed the land. His eyesight was poor so he never relied much on his eyes. And with the tuatara having one extra? He certainly trusted her vision over his own.
“Yes,” said the tuatara, “I do.” She paused, and the scales on her speckled neck twitched. “I see it. I have only to concentrate and it comes to me, as if in a dream. I see you. I see everyone. I see the past, the present, the future. I see all with the power of my third eye. And there?” She nodded toward the menacing mark in the crater. “I see destruction to come. I see death.”
“Death?” gasped the pangolin. He drew his scales close to his body and fought the urge to curl into a ball again.
Polyphema leaned her head down low, revealing her third eye once more. “Yes, death.”
“Oh mon dieu!” Bismark cried. He flailed his flaps, creating a whirlwind of ash. “We are doomed! Done! Fini!”
Tobin took a deep breath. Then, suddenly, as if drawn by an invisible force, he gazed into the tuatara’s strange, milky orb. “What do you mean exactly?” he asked quietly. “Do you see this beast causing death?”
“Yes,” said Polyphema. “And my power of sight never fails.”
Dawn let out a skeptical grunt. She found Polyphema’s so-called visions difficult to believe.
But Polyphema pressed on, unbothered by the fox’s distrust. “Don’t worry,” she said to the pangolin. Her spikes gleamed under the stars as she spoke. “I see death, as I’ve said.” Her mouth spread into a sly, toothy grin. “But I also see how to escape it. I can tell you how to fight the beast.”
“Well, don’t just stand there, my mysterious, Tutu. Tell us how to stop this terrible creature!”
Polyphema looked at the sugar glider and tilted her scaly neck. “It is really quite easy,” she said. “To defeat him, simply meet his demand.” She paused, flicking her two front eyes over her audience. Her voice was low and unwavering. “Everyone must leave,” she said. “The jerboas in the forest, the moles underground, even the birds in the sky. They all must leave the valley and never return.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Only the wind shrieked in the night.
“What?” Bismark extended his flaps in disbelief, sending a whirlwind of ash through the air. “Impossible! Unworkable! Infeasipracticable!”
“Kick everyone out of their homes?” Tobin asked. The pangolin rubbed his round belly, which had suddenly developed a knot. “Why would the beast want that?”
“This is his territory,” said Polyphema. “He came here first, long ago. Now he’s returned to take what is rightfully his.”
Dawn narrowed her eyes. “We will not force anyone out because of the demands of a selfish beast.”
“I don’t see any other
