The Legend of Thunderfoot (10 page)

Once certain that both coyotes were after him and no longer chasing his friends, Thunder took off! His strong legs . . . his wide feet . . . the soft powder . . . it was as if he was running on the very air itself.

Trouble was, he ran
too
fast. A crow's caw made him glance back. When he realized the coyotes were no longer following, he slowed, then turned to look. Two crows sat at the very top of an old cottonwood tree. Brisk and Speedette were halfway up the canyon wall to his right. Using their wings, they leaped and hopped from one boulder to the next, working their way up the sheer rock face toward the safety of the ridge.

Deciding they had no chance of catching something that ran so fast they could barely see it, Scruffy and Winterfat had turned back to go after easier prey. Thunder could see them running toward the lake. They had spotted the preening lovebirds!

But Agile'eka and Rocket had seen them, too. They were already on the move, running for the big rocks that held the lake.

Agile'eka reached the dam first. She hopped and scampered across the rocks. Rocket hopped, but he didn't scamper. His feet slipped on the first boulder. He fell, hitting with such a thud that Thunder could almost feel it halfway up the canyon.

Rocket staggered to his feet and ran. But he didn't follow Agile'eka across the dam. He ran to
the right. At the canyon wall, he turned and ran left. At the lake he turned and ran again, but this time, confused and disoriented, he ran back straight toward the two coyotes.

“I got this one,” Scruffy yelped. He pointed his sharp nose at the streambed. “Head that one off at the pass.”

Winterfat crossed the dry creek bed and headed to the far side of the cattails. Thunder took off, even faster than he had when the coyotes were after him. The long, green leaves of the cattails were brown and limp with the winter cold. Scruffy was almost to them, headed east. From the other direction, and headed west, Rocket was just about to the place where the cattails stopped in the deep water. Even as fast as he was, Thunder knew he couldn't get there in time. So . . . he took to the air.

Mouth open, slobber dripping in anticipation of the meal he was about to catch, Scruffy was less than ten yards from Rocket when Thunder landed and trotted up beside him. The coyote spotted him out of the corner of his eye and reached to snap.

Thunder took one stride to the side—just enough to escape the sharp teeth. Two more
strides moved him ahead of the big coyote. Once there he cut right in front of him and darted toward the cattails. Scruffy was the biggest coyote Thunder had ever seen. He also had to be the dumbest. Darned if that old coyote didn't follow him right into the cattails, just like he'd done the last time they met.

Behind him Thunder heard the squishing, sloshing sound of wet mud. Then the yelp when Scruffy's paws sank and he realized he was stuck. Finally there was the snarling and lunging and splashing as the coyote struggled to yank himself free.

At the far edge of the cattails, Thunder paused. Not long enough to sink in the mud, just long enough to look before he leaped. Winterfat wasn't waiting for him there. She was still after Agile'eka, who ran near the wall of the canyon, trying to skirt around the coyote and make it to the wide part of the valley.

Once outside the cattails and away from the soft mud, Thunder could see that the coyote had the angle on Agile'eka. She would cut her off near the straight, flat cliffs, just before the valley widened. The rocks there were tall—taller than a roadrunner could fly. They also sloped back into
the base of the ridge, forming a box canyon. There would be no place for Agile'eka to run.

Thunder sprinted toward her. Winterfat was only a few yards from Agile'eka when he sprang into the air. Just above and a little behind, he folded his wings tight against his side, aimed his huge feet right at the back of Winterfat's skull, and . . .

“My hero!”

The voice was so loud it shook a little clump of snow from a bare creosote branch just above Thunder's head. He gave a snort. Blowing it off his beak, he glanced up.

Agile'eka raced toward him. Rocket was headed his way, too. He was a bit behind because he kept stopping to preen his feathers. “You are so brave, Thunder.” Agile'eka swooned. “You are so wonderful. My hero.”

She rushed to his side, fluttered her eyelashes, and rubbed her cheek against his neck feathers. Thunder didn't even bother to get up. “That was like totally awesome,” Rocket cooed as he strutted up. “I mean, the way you landed on that coyote's head. Hit her so hard it jammed her nose clear
under the snow. I never saw a coyote flip over and land on her back before. Neat trick, man. You'll have to teach me how to do that one of these days.”

Thunder just sighed and shook his head. Agile'eka sat down and nestled against his wing. “I'm so glad you came back to me. I thought you might never return. I've waited so long. Now we can . . .”

“Waited so long?” Thunder repeated, arching his eyebrows.

Agile'eka blinked. “Yes. You've been gone over a season and . . .”

“And you waited for me? All this time?”

“Well . . . I . . . ah . . .” She stopped stammering long enough to clear her throat. “None of that matters now. You're back. Now we can be together again—forever.”

Frowning, Rocket strutted up, preened a wing feather, and looked at her. “What about us?” he asked.

Agile'eka ignored him. Rubbed her beak against Thunder's wing. “Thunder is the bravest, strongest roadrunner in all the world. I want him!”

When Thunder stood, he gave her a little nudge to get her off the wing she was rubbing. Since his
wings were stronger than he thought, the little nudge almost sent her rolling. “Trouble is,” Thunder said, “I don't want you.”

“You don't want me?” Agile'eka gasped, her beak gaping wide in disbelief.

Thunder smiled and shook his head. “Nope.”

Eyes tight, she bristled and stared at him—but for only a moment. “Come on, Rocket,” she snapped, turning toward him and stomping off. “I hate this valley. Coyotes. Bobcats. Now it's overcrowded. Too many roadrunners.”

“But . . . but . . .” he stammered.

“Oh, shut up, Rocket. Quit preening. And come on!”

Thunder watched as they walked toward a hill to the west. It had been a long day. The noon sun was high. Most of the snow was gone from the valley. All that was left of it were stripes and patches in the shade. He sat down to relax. No sooner had he settled beneath the bush, when something nudged his foot.

“MOVE!”

Startled, he sprang straight up. Snapping branches with his powerful hop, he crashed through the creosote bush and landed at the very top. Looked down.

There was a digging sound. Snow caved in beneath the footprints where he sat. Berland's head, feet, and shell popped through. “Guess you're a little smarter than I gave you credit for, kid.”

“Huh?”

“Getting rid of Agile'eka. Smart move. You hadn't been gone a day when she started flirting with Brisk. When he wouldn't have anything to do with her, she started in on Rocket. And even after they hitched up, she was after every roadrunner who happened to wander through this valley. Never seen anything like that gal. You're better off without her.”

“I know,” Thunder said with a sigh, hopping down to sit beside his friend. Still . . . inside . . . he felt a bit sad and lonely.

“So how you been doing? Looks like you've been eating well. Ever find your rock?”

“Yes. It took me a while, but I found it.”

“Been practicing your flying?”

Thunder would show Berland. He knew the old tortoise would be impressed and proud of him. He might even wait a little while, go get his rock, and drop it beside the burrow so Berland could see for
himself. But not right now. So all he said was, “I practiced some.”

Frowning, Berland glanced back toward the valley. “What's with all the crows? When I crawled in my burrow last night, there were two sitting in that cottonwood, across the creek. Now there's eight or nine of those noisy things.”

Thunder hadn't even noticed until Berland mentioned it. Berland tilted his head to the side, listening. “That's the trouble with crows,” he said. “With all of 'em trying to talk at the same time, makes 'em darned hard to understand. Something about an eagle who can run faster than a coyote.”

Berland laughed. “That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard. Eagles and hawks are great in the air, but they can barely hop on the ground, much less run. You seen Speedette and Brisk?”

“On the ridge over there.” Thunder pointed with his beak.

Berland stretched his neck. “Looks like they're watching something down by the cattails. Oh, it's Winterfat. She's got a bloody nose. Wonder what happened to her.”

“Must have bumped into something.”

About then, another coyote came stumbling and
sloshing out of the cattails. Black, gooey, sloppy mud dripped from his belly and haunches. Berland frowned at him. Then he turned and frowned at Thunder. “You didn't let Scruffy chase you across those cattails again, did you? Not while Winterfat was around. Don't you know how dangerous that is? What if she'd circled the cattails and had been there waiting for you?”

“She didn't even see me,” Thunder said. “She was busy with something else.”

They sat for a while, Thunder resting, Berland trying to listen to the crows and figure out what all the chatter was about. When he noticed Thunder staring longingly at the hill to the west, he glanced that way too. Agile'eka and Rocket were almost to the top. Almost out of sight.

“Do kind of feel sorry for Rocket,” Berland said.

“Don't bother,” Thunder snorted. “He's just as bad as she is. I met this girl roadrunner a couple of valleys back. She thought Rocket was her boyfriend. He'd told her he wanted to be her mate. They'd raise a family together. Didn't bother to tell her he already had a mate. Don't feel sorry for him. Rocket and Agile'eka deserve each other.”

“What was her name?”

Thunder frowned. “Whose name?”

“The girl you met.”

Thunder thought a moment, then shrugged. “Don't think I got her name.”

“Was she kind of plump? Cute face? Long legs?”

Thunder shrugged. “Cute face, all right. Never did see her legs. She was sittin' on 'em—feeling sorry for herself because Rocket dumped her. But she definitely wasn't plump. Fact is she was so depressed she hadn't eaten in two days. If she didn't get up and hunt, she may not have made it.”

Berland's neck stretched farther than Thunder had ever seen. He squinted. Frowned. “Maybe she's not plump. Maybe she's just got her feathers all ruffled. Maybe she's just mad.” He looked back at Thunder. “Think you might be in trouble, kid.”

Once Thunder found what Berland was talking about, once he saw the roadrunner walking down the valley, once his head was pointed in the right direction, not only could he see her, he could hear her, too.

“Where do you get off calling me lazy?” she clattered. Only the clattering was so loud and shrill and mad it sounded more like the call of a screech owl. “And don't even try to hide from me! I know you're down here. I found that stupid
rock you were carrying around. Sooner or later, I'm gonna find you. And when I do . . .”

Suddenly, Berland's head and front legs drew inside his shell. “Oh, no!” the old tortoise gasped. “It's Tess!”

His eyes were keener than any other roadrunner's. He was more watchful than any other roadrunner. Still Thunder had not seen a movement. The wind hadn't blown. The air was still as death itself—not even the slightest breath to twitch the long whiskers or wiggle the sharp tufts of hair at the peaks of the ear. The crows didn't even tell.

But they did show him where Tess was. Seven cottonwoods lined the dry streambed. Crows cawed and jabbered in only six of them. On a low branch, behind the gnarled trunk of the farthest tree, Thunder saw the pointed ear. A yellow eye peeked around the trunk. Totally motionless. Waiting for the angry roadrunner to get just . . . a little . . . closer.

“No!” Berland said when Thunder got to his feet.
“It's too late, kid. Even the fastest roadrunner couldn't run that far in time to warn her.”

Thunder crouched. “I know.”

With that, he sprang into the sky. There was movement. From high above the cottonwood tree, Thunder finally saw it. Cats usually wiggle their rear ends right before they pounce. The stub tail twitched. Thunder's powerful wings clamped tight against his sides. Aimed for the soft spot, right where the little, stub tail joined Tess's backbone.

“Come out and face me, you coward.” The girl roadrunner was almost to the tree, oblivious to the bobcat, and still yelling. “You can't hide from me forever. And when I find you . . .”

Her back compressed and tight as a coiled spring, the bobcat leaped! Sharp front claws reached out—aiming where her prey was. Hind legs exploded.

Faster than a bolt of lightning chasing a spring storm, Thunder dived from the sky. An instant before Tess's hind feet left the limb where she hid, his sharp beak struck!

Tess snarled and squalled. The impact threw her jump off. She intended to land on the young roadrunner. Instead, the sudden pain sent her
flying straight—right into another branch of the cottonwood.

Small limbs snapped as she broke through them. Stub tail and back spinning, she managed to catch a large limb with the very tips of her claws.

Thunder hopped to the limb beside her. Cat eyes, full of anger and hate, glared up at him. Thunder smiled down at her. Then he pecked the back of her paw.

When she yanked it away, Tess lost what little grip her claws had on the branch. Hissing and spitting, she fell.