Eager Eagle's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

Eager Eagle stood at the edge of the group with the watch still warm in his claw. The reader waited. The other animals waited. He had walked the whole town on foot to be here on time, and now the report he owed them was empty. He had crossed no trail. He had counted no markers. He had only followed a creek. He opened his beak. He almost said the weather had turned. He almost said his wing had slowed him. Both were true. Neither was the reason. He shut his beak again. An excuse was a lie wearing a coat. "I have no report," he said. "I could not fly the trail this week. I walked here instead. I saw only what the ground path showed me." The reader lowered the list. A badger near the post frowned. Someone at the back muttered. Eager Eagle felt the heat climb his neck, but he did not look down. "I gave my word to bring data," he said. "I broke that part. I will not cover it with a story. Mark me short on the roll." The reader tapped the pencil against the paper. "Short is short," he said. "But you came. Sit. We will finish the round." Eager Eagle sat on a stump. The talk moved past him. A beaver reported a washed-out log bridge. A marten described fresh bear sign near the ridge. He listened and remembered his walk in. He had passed a split maple at the second bend of the creek. He had passed a stretch of trail where every leaf was the same shape, all fallen from one wide tree, all curled the same way. He had passed nothing on wings, but he had passed things. He reached into his sling pocket. His good claw found the small sketchbook Valerie had tucked in with the compass, the one she had said was for notes he could not yet make. He pulled it out. He turned to a clean page. He could not draw well with one claw. He pressed the book flat on the stump. He picked up one of the curled leaves from the ground beside him, the wide kind he had walked through, and laid it inside the book. He closed the cover on it. He wrote under the fold, in shaky block letters, WEST CREEK BEND. TRAIL CLEAR TO MARKER. It was not a report. It was one leaf and one line. It was true. When the meeting broke, he brought the book to the reader and opened it. "For next week," he said. "I will bring more. On the day. At the hour." The reader looked at the leaf. He nodded once. "Noon Thursday. Full route." Eager Eagle closed the book. His name was on a new promise now, and the clock had already started.