Stories from the Dinos.

A young traveler’s pack split outside camp.

Berries rolled into the dirt. A blanket slid into a puddle.

“I’m fine,” the youngster said quickly.

Butters brought a needle.

They sat together beneath a tree while she stitched the strap. When the youngster tried to help, the thread tangled around one tiny claw.

“Sorry.”

“Sticks used to do that.”

“Who’s Sticks?”

Butters paused, then loosened the knot.

“Someone who would have liked you.”

She finished the repair slowly, telling a story about a muddy hill and a very bad idea.

By supper, they were both laughing.

Vincent had nearly escaped when Rexxy spotted him.

“That’s my basket.”

“Was.”

She chased him through the trees until he reached a dead end beside the river.

Vincent looked at the water. Then at Rexxy.

Then he offered her a berry.

She stared.

“It’s a good one,” he said.

Rexxy ate it.

He ate one too.

By the time Kal found them, the basket was empty.

“Who took these?” he asked.

Rexxy pointed at Vincent.

Vincent pointed at Rexxy.

Kal picked up the basket.

“Both of you are carrying the next one.”

The knock came after sunset.

Greg opened the door to find Waddles holding up one foot.

“No blood,” Greg observed.

Waddles complained loudly.

“No swelling either.”

More complaining.

Greg fetched his spectacles.

A thorn no longer than a pine needle stuck between the Dodo’s toes.

Waddles turned away while Greg removed it.

“There. Survived another one.”

The bird hopped down, tested his foot, then pushed a berry across the table.

Greg looked at it.

“For services rendered?”

Waddles chirped.

Greg put the berry beside his supper and left the door open.

The traveler asked where Waddles came from.

Waddles began explaining.

The traveler smiled politely, then turned to Derpy.

“What’s he saying?”

“Ask him.”

“I did.”

“You stopped listening.”

Waddles glanced between them.

Derpy settled onto the grass.

“Go on.”

The story involved an island, rocks, several impressions of very important Dodos, and a stretch of ocean represented by an alarming amount of flapping.

Derpy laughed in all the right places.

The traveler sat down too.

By the time Waddles finished, the sun had set.

Nobody asked Derpy to explain it again.

“This is Kal,” Rexxy announced. “My brother.”

The stranger looked from the little Compy to her enormous teeth.

“Your brother?”

Kal had heard that tone before. He started explaining the egg, the family, the whole familiar story.

Rexxy interrupted.

“Yes. Keep up.”

She marched toward the market.

Kal hurried beside her. “I could have explained.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Rexxy stopped at a fruit stall.

“Are you buying anything, or are we talking about this all morning?”

She bought enough for two.

Derpy stood at the water’s edge.

Since the injury, distances sometimes looked wrong. The stepping-stone seemed close until he reached for it.

Behind him, Waddles waited.

“You can go,” Derpy said.

The Dodo sat down.

Derpy tried again. His foot slipped, splashing both of them.

From the bank came a familiar snort.

Rexxy.

Derpy stiffened.

Before she could speak, Waddles charged into the shallows, slipped spectacularly, and disappeared beneath a sheet of water.

Derpy laughed so hard he forgot to be embarrassed.

He waded in to help.

Rexxy left without saying anything.

The sign said the path was closed.

Phosphorus climbed the fence.

On the other side, a landslide had buried the trail.

“Oh.”

Arillo watched from the gate.

“Finished investigating?”

She ignored him and examined the slope.

Rainwater trickled through the loose earth. Below it stood the fence, the sign, and the road they had taken that morning.

Phosphorus climbed back.

“This could come down farther.”

Arillo studied the hillside.

Then he helped her move the warning sign.

They spent the afternoon turning travelers away.

Phosphorus still thought the fence was badly placed.

Now Arillo agreed.

The meeting table was too tall.

Kal could see everyone’s chins and very little of the map.

Rexxy offered her shoulder. He shook his head.

While the others argued about the route, Kal dragged over an empty crate. Then another. He climbed up, spread his notes, and tapped a narrow passage beside the river.

“That bridge washed out yesterday.”

The argument stopped.

Vincent leaned closer. “How do you know?”

“I went and looked.”

By the next meeting, someone had placed a proper stool at the table.

Kal moved it to the head.

Phosphorus found Arillo awake beside the dying fire.

“Your watch ended.”

“I know.”

She sat a little distance away.

Somewhere beyond the trees, a branch cracked.

Arillo rose so quickly that his armor struck the kettle.

A small animal fled into the brush.

Neither spoke.

After a while, Phosphorus righted the kettle.

“Tea?”

He nodded.

She made it too weak. He drank it anyway.

When dawn began whitening the trees, Arillo finally lowered himself onto the grass.

Phosphorus took his place beside the fire.

She let him sleep through breakfast.

The visitor returned with three buckets.

“More glowing fish,” he said. “The last ones sold beautifully.”

Shadow lowered his fishing line.

“You sold them?”

“People love them.”

For a moment, only the river moved.

Then Shadow took the nearest bucket and tipped its little captive gently into the current.

The visitor protested.

Shadow handed back the empty bucket.

“You’re welcome to sit. You’re welcome to fish with me.”

“And take some home?”

“No.”

The visitor left before sunset.

Shadow stayed until a familiar blue light passed beneath the bank.

He dropped a berry into the water.