glider stepped back from the stone’s crevice and checked the ground beneath his feet. Dawn was right—the meteorite was surrounded by little clods of dirt, each one with a tiny hole in the middle.
“Never fear, mon amour! Just a bit of stardust,” he said, poking at one of the mounds. It crumbled at his touch. “Blech! Kind of grimy, actually.”
The fox inspected the piles around her paws. They appeared to be freshly dug. “Careful what you touch,” she said.
While the sugar glider flicked bits of dirt from his claws, Tobin also took a closer look at the fallen star and the ground surrounding it. “What could have made all these mounds?” he murmured. The pangolin turned to Dawn.
She shifted her jaw uneasily.
“Not much could have survived the meteorite’s impact,” she mused. “Insects, perhaps. Or maybe some kind of—”
Tap tap tap.
The fox’s mouth snapped shut.
Tap tap tap.
The noise was coming from the stone.
Tap tap tap.
“Mon dieu!” Bismark gulped, backing away. “The fallen star is alive!”
Tap tap tap.
Tap tap tap.
Dawn took a cautious step forward. As she approached, the mysterious tapping grew louder. More insistent.
Tap tap tap!
Tap tap tap!
“My lady, look out! That hunk of rock is not to be trusted!” Bismark cried, hiding behind Tobin’s armored tail.
Dawn peered at the stone. “Who’s there?” she called.
“Dios mio! Something’s moving!” The sugar glider pointed to a figure emerging from behind the star.
The Brigade stepped back in shock. A strange animal was slowly rising from the shadows. Tobin gasped as its two bony hands came into view, each one sporting a fourth finger that was nearly twice as long as all the others. Then he raised his eyes to take in the rest of the creature: two leathery ears, a pair of orange eyes, a wrinkled face, and a furry body with a thick, bushy tail. With its rodent-like fangs, grimy fur, and massive, fiery eyes, it looked like a small monkey crossed with a swamp rat.
“Mon dieu! It’s the monster of the fallen star!” Bismark cried. “Stand back, foul beast! Stay away, filthy fiend! Oh heaven above, you have sent one miserable muchacha down to us!”
“Um, hello?” the much more polite pangolin said, nudging Bismark with his snout. Still, Tobin had to admit—the newcomer’s appearance was startling. He had never seen anything like it.
“By the stars! Look at those fingers! That scowl! That drool!” Bismark continued. “I want to look away, but I cannot!”
“Be quiet, Bismark,” Dawn scolded. “She’s an aye-aye, the rarest type of lemur in the valley. I’ve heard them described, but I’ve never actually seen one before.”
“Do not be ridiculo, my love! Everyone knows that lemurs are primates of soft fuzz and sweet fur!” the sugar glider cried. “This one looks like she was born in a prickle bush!”
“Enough, Bismark,” Dawn said. She turned to the aye-aye. “Forgive us,” she began. “We’ve come to see if anyone was hurt by the star. I am Dawn, and this is Bismark and Tobin. We are the Nocturnal Brigade.”
“What is your name?” Tobin offered shyly.
The aye-aye did not answer. Instead, she began to climb the meteorite. When she reached its top, she turned to the trio, staring with her large eyes. Then she used her elongated fourth finger to tap against the stone.
Tap tap tap.
“Mon dieu, that miserable muchacha’s finger is as long as your tongue, amigo!” Bismark whispered, poking the pangolin’s flanks. The glider’s gaze moved to the sharp tips of the aye-aye’s grimy nails, and he shuddered.
“Hey! Wait just a momento,” he cried. “I think I’m on to something! Listen up, Madame Monstruoso. Was it you who dug these holes in the soil? Quick, someone check those fingers for dirt!”
“Oh goodness, Bismark! Give her a chance to speak,” Tobin whispered to his friend.
But despite his good intentions, the pangolin felt a surge of dread as the aye-aye turned her harsh gaze on him. Perched upon the stone, she looked like some kind of hairy vulture at roost. Finally, she opened her mouth and wheezed a shallow cough.
“A stone, a star-stone, fallen from the sky! It has come, but it did not come alone,” she said. Her raspy voice echoed faintly off the smooth meteorite. “Aye-Aye Iris has seen them. The mounds have been made. The poison has been set. The creatures are among us. The invasion has begun!”
“Oh goodness! Poison? Creatures? Invasion!?” Tobin cried.
“Mon dieu!” Bismark exclaimed. “Invaders? In the valley?”
The fur on Dawn’s neck stood on end, but her voice remained steady and calm. “What kind of creatures did you see?” she asked the hunched animal above her.
The aye-aye sputtered. Her shoulders heaved with each raspy breath. She wheezed and clutched her sides. But she said nothing in reply. She just continued to stare down at the Brigade. Dawn noticed that in all this time, the lemur had not blinked even once. Was something wrong with her? Was she ill? Or was she simply rattled by the fallen star?
“What evidence do you have of an invasion? Of poison?” the fox pressed, meeting the aye-aye’s spellbinding stare with a steady look of her own.
But the aye-aye just clicked her tongue and licked her lips, as if detecting the scent of something ripe in the air. “They have landed,” she repeated simply. “They have come. And they will destroy us all.”
“For the love of all things gracious and good!” Bismark said, taking a few steps away from the aye-aye. “Who are these invaders? What do they want?”
The aye-aye opened her mouth to speak but then stopped. Her pointy ears twitched in their beds of stringy white fur.
“This is all starting to sound a little loco,” Bismark continued. “I think that hair of yours might not be the only thing in need of untangling, comprende?”
The aye-aye hissed. Her face morphed
