“You have anything better to do?” asked the other boy pointedly.
Josiah considered. “No, I suppose not. I’m willing to see what Redwing has on her mind, if anything. Especially so long as it leads away from town.” He followed in Mei-tin’s wake.
She looked back. “Aren’t you coming, Tina?”
Her friend glanced townward. “I think we really should be helping with the evacuees’ unpacking. It’s a long, hard walk from the far reaches of the Northern Plains, and they can use all the help they can get.” She hesitated. “But if you’re all going ...” She gave in and hurried to catch up to her friends.
“This is stupid.” Ahmed pushed a branch aside. “Tina’s right. We should go back and help. I’m feeling guilty enough as it is.”
“Don’t let it bother you.” The bird trainer ducked the same branch. “I agree that this is dumb, but doing work that hasn’t been specifically assigned to you is dumber still. I don’t think that—”
“Look over there,” exclaimed Mei-tin sharply. “Isn’t that somebody on the ground?”
“It’s a struthie.” Tina was staring. “She’s not moving.” “I can see that,” responded her boyfriend impatiently. In a softer tone he added, “She looks like she’s in a bad way.”
The four teens crowded around the recumbent form. “Do you think she’s dead?” Ahmed murmured. No bravado now; only genuine concern.
Ignoring his hooting, hopping pet, the bird trainer bent down and put an ear to the struthie’s chest. His friends went silent. After a moment he sat up and favored them with a relieved smile.
“No, she’s alive, but her breathing’s very shallow. She needs real medical attention.”
“I’ll go.” No one tried to argue with Mei-tin, knowing her to be far and away the best mountain runner among them.
“We’ll all go.” Ahmed started to turn, but Tina intercepted him.
“No. One’s enough. Let Mei-tin go. The rest of us should stay here and try to do what we can.” She nodded down at the limp form. “What if she wakes up and wanders off a cliff or into the lake, or just asks for a drink of water?”
Ahmed nodded slowly. “All right.”
“I’ve got an idea.” The bird trainer was eyeing a nearby grove of young birch trees speculatively. “You all recall your woodlands training?”
“Woodlands training?” Mei-tin stared at him. “I didn’t think you’d remember any of that, Josiah. After all, that kind of dumb information’s only useful to people who live in small country towns.”
“I’in sorry,” he apologized. “Just when you think your life’s impossibly dull, something like this happens.” He gestured at Keelk, who had not moved since their arrival and gave no indication that she was in any way aware of their presence. “This female needs help, and she needs it right away. Ahmed, have you got your knife?”
The other teen patted the large blade sheathed at his hip. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Josiah, but I can tell you that I don’t know anything about woodland surgery.”
“No, but I’ll bet you can cut down some of these saplings. We’ll make a travois.”
“A what?” Mei-tin inquired.
“You’ll see. Here, let’s give Ahmed a hand. We’ll need some vines of bark strips to tie the saplings with.”
With all four of them contributing, the work went faster than anyone dared hope. Certainly faster than Mei-tin could have run back to town and returned with help. “You think it’ll hold her?” Tina gazed uncertainly at the triangular apparatus that now lay on the ground before them.
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have spent the time on it.” Josiah had his own knife out and along with Mei-tin was testing the last of the knots. “I’m more worried about being able to pull her all the way back.”
“We’ll do it.” Rising and stepping back, Ahmed wiped perspiration from his face. “It’ll work so long as she doesn’t wake up, panic, and hurt herself.”
The crude travois looked sturdy enough, but the only way to be sure was to put it to use. Carefully they dragged the struthie’s body toward the stretcherlike contraption.
“All together, now,” Josiah urged his friends. He and Ahmed each gripped one of the leathery legs while the girls took the unconscious dinosaur by her forearms. “On three. One, two, three ... heave!”
They half lifted, half rolled Keelk’s body onto the travois.
The weave of saplings, bark, and vines sank in the center but held. With a boy and girl on each of the two lead poles, they easily raised the front section of the conveyance off the ground.
“All right, everybody. Let’s pull!”
Straining at the poles, the four youngsters began dragging the limp Struthiomimns toward Treetown. They were helped by the fact that it was mostly downhill, though a single small rise nearly defeated them.
“Once we get over this hill we’ll be all right.” The straining Ahmed was perspiring heavily. “It’s all downhill into town the rest of the way.”
It was at that moment that a two-wheeled cart hove into view, rumbling down a side path. Each of the wheels was twice the height of a tall man. The Triceratops doing the pulling halted without being bidden and mumbled at the four teens. So did the young farmer ensconced high above in the driver’s seat. Two young children peeked out curiously from behind him.
“Hoy, what have here?” The farmer pushed back on the brim of his hat.
Grateful for the momentary respite, the teens paused. “She’s sick or something.” Mei-tin gestured at their motionless burden. “She needs help right away. We’re trying to get her into town.”
“Enough said. Come on, then, Friere.”
The man’s wife appeared behind him. Descending from the bench atop the front of the cart, they quickly disengaged the vehicle from its harness. As the Triceratops backed carefully, the teens’ hastily fashioned travois was hitched to the big ceratopsian.
Leaving her husband behind to attend to their worldly goods and the two children, the young wife settled herself into the saddle located behind the Triceratops's frill. Josiah and his friends climbed up behind and hung on as best they could. Giving its passengers a warning rumble, the Triceratops took off at a fast trot, clearing in moments the hill that had nearly defeated the four youngsters. They hung on tightly. Like any ceratopsian, a Triceratops can make a good bit of speed over a short distance.
Humans and dinosaurs alike turned to stare as the unlikely arrivals hauled into town, dust settling in their wake. They were quickly directed to the sequoia in which resided one learned and respected Dr. Kano Toranaga.
In the next tree over, Will Denison was discussing wind shear and air flow with two friends, debating the best way to handle a skybax under such difficult conditions. Should one try to give directions or simply hang on and allow the Quetzalcoatlus its head, offering encouragement only where necessary?
“Wonder what’s happening down there?” The young man nearest the railing had noticed the arrival of the Triceratops and its peculiar cargo.
Will turned to look. “Don’t know. Looks like they’re bringing in an injured struthie.” Humans and other dinosaurs were swarming around the clumsy rig at the rear of the Triceratops.
As they watched, the struthie was gently placed in a hammock-basket. A young apatosaur, still in training, was given a command by its human companion (also in training). The juvenile sauropod promptly started off in the opposite direction, smoothly winching the basket upward toward the waiting branches by means of harness and straps. As it ascended, the basket rotated slowly. Will’s gaze rose with it, following its progress curiously. Its single occupant had not moved.
Upon reaching the prescribed level, signals were exchanged and the basket halted its ascent. Waiting hands drew it sideways, and its immobile passenger was removed.
“She looks awfully thin,” observed Moon, the third skybax rider.
“There’s plenty of food around,” declared their companion. “She’s not dead or they wouldn’t be taking her to the doc
tor.”
Will glanced at her. “Doctor?”
“Kano Toranaga has his office in that tree. I’ve heard he’s the most respected physician this side of Sauropolis. He’s a vet, which means he’s qualified to treat humans as well as dinosaurs.”
“It’s probably nothing.” Moon turned away from the ground. “The struthie probably fell and hit her head or something.”
“I don’t know.” Will tried to see what was happening. “Everyone seemed awfully anxious for it to be just a bump on the head.” He came to a sudden decision. “I’m going to go see.”
“Go see?” Ethera blinked at him. “But why? You can’t do anything.”
“Not true.” Will had already started for the exit. “I can learn.”
“You’re supposed to be learning about the wind currents above the Backbone Mountains.” She pouted accusingly. She was certainly fond of him, Will knew, and she was undeniably attractive, but his heart belonged to another.
“I know. Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”
Exiting the dormitory, he turned left down a branch walkway, crossed a ladder to a higher offshoot, and stepped out onto a sling rope bridge. A hundred feet above the ground, he hustled across without even looking down. The drop was nothing to a skybax rider accustomed to executing barrel rolls at two thousand feet.
In the tree he’d left, his companions had resumed the conversation without him. It was just like a dolphinback, Moon declaimed, to see intrigue in everyday activities. Though the Denisons had lived six years in Dinotopia, young Will still found the commonplace fascinating. And while they were on the subject, why didn’t Ethera find him, Moon, as interesting as she did Will?
Will eventually came to Dr. Toranaga’s tree by a roundabout route through the branches. After identifying himself, he was passed on through to the infirmary with an admonition to keep quiet. Dr. Toranaga had no objection to eager youngsters observing his procedures. Indeed, he welcomed their attention, as long as they kept their often overactive mouths shut.
At present the infirmary contained three recuperating patients, all human. Most cases of dinosaurian illness were, out of necessity and concession to size, treated on the ground. Much easier to bring the staff to the side of an ill Diplodocus than vice versa. A seventy-ton sauropod would more than strain the infirmary’s facilities.
But the smaller dinosaurs could be treated alongside sick humans, and at Toranaga’s request the unconscious Struthio-mimus had been raised to that level.
An attentive nurse intercepted Will, her white sari swirling about her. A small cabochon ruby flashed in the center of her forehead and plain gold earrings dangled freely.
“Can I help you?”
Will tried to see past her. “I’m an apprentice skybax rider from Waterfall City. I was told I could watch.”
The nurse glanced over her shoulder. “The doctor’s current patient is a young struthie.”
“I know. I saw her brought in. How is she doing?”
“She’s extremely weak and still unconscious.” As if to deliberately contradict this diagnosis, an excited, high-pitched babbling issued from the rear of the infirmary. Will instantly recognized the fear-laden squeals of a terrified struthie. Just audible above the squealing were the impatient shouts of a man yelling for assistance.
“I have to go,” explained the nurse hastily. Pivoting, she raced away from him.
“Hey, wait! Maybe I can help!”
He hesitated. The worst they could do was chase him away. Besides, if tfiey had a delirious dinosaur on their hands, even a juvenile struthie, another set of muscles would be welcomed. If the patient was suffering from threatening hallucinations, it might react out of ancient instinct instead of modern good sense. For a struthie, that meant running. Not a good idea when one was lying abed one hundred twenty feet up in the branches of a giant sequoia.
Hurrying after the nurse, Will slowed as he approached the circular nestlike bed. The struthie was lying in the middle, kicking violently and fighting to rise. A small bespectacled man with close-cropped black hair and diminutive features was struggling to hold her down. Two nurses, one large and male, the other the woman who had confronted Will, were doing their best to help.
No one objected when Will silently lent his assistance. He did his best to follow Toranaga’s orders. For a supposedly incapacitated individual, the young struthie was still plenty strong, especially in the legs. As she kicked and twisted, she babbled in the high-pitched tongue of her kind. While struggling to subdue her, Will managed to catch a word or two, but not enough to make any sense of her uncontrolled squealing.
Eventually the doctor and his aides managed to wrap the frantic youngster in a damp sheet heavily scented with herbs. This seemed to have a calming effect. The kicking ceased entirely and she slumped back into the center of the round bed. Her mumbling gradually died down but did not cease entirely.
“I’ll want a number four potion, please, with extra vivar root.” Kano Toranaga spoke without looking at his nurses. His attention was focused entirely on his patient. “And I will want to talk to those youngsters who found her and brought her in.”
“Yes, Doctor.” The male nurse scribbled something on a pad.
A moment later Will found himself gazing back into small, dark eyes that reminded him very much of Levka Gambo’s. “And who, please, is this helpful if slightly heavy-handed young man?”
The female nurse eyed the opportune visitor uncertainly. “I don’t know, Doctor. He says he’s an apprentice skybax rider from Waterfall City and that he wanted to observe.”
“So. What did you observe, young man?”
Will couched his reply carefully. “That even a seemingly helpless patient can be dangerous and needs careful attention.” For an instant there was no reaction. Then the doctor smiled in amusement. “Not so bad. Who are you, then?”
Will straightened. “Will Denison, sir.”
Toranaga’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, yes, the son of the esteemed Arthur. I have heard of him. Though not of you.”
Will slumped visibly.
Chuckling softly to himself, the doctor came around the bed to greet him. “The impatience of youth to do great things. How well I remember. Well, skybax apprentice, tell me: what do you think we have here?” He gestured at the bed.
“A very sick young struthie, sir.”
Toranaga nodded. “Observant, if not analytical. That will come with time. She is sick indeed but should recover rapidly with proper food and modest medicating. There seems to be nothing desperately wrong with her. No broken bones, no internal injuries. She is simply very run-down. At the moment she is quite out of her head. Her condition will have to be closely monitored for several days, at least.” An afterthought caused him to regard his visitor afresh. “You may stay and learn, young man.”
“Thank you, sir.” A grateful Will returned his attention to the softly moaning Strutbiomimus. “Is it known what happened to her?”
“I do not believe so. She was found by some youngsters who were out hiking.”
Will didn’t try to hide his surprise. “She was alone? Where is her family?”
“That is one of the things we are trying to find out. As I speak no Struthine and I doubt she talks Human, I have already sent for a translator.”
“I think I understood a little of what she was saying, sir. A very little.”
The doctor’s eyebrows rose slightly. “You? Human-dinosaur translation is an unusual hobby for a skybax rider. I thought you only needed to know the commands for your mount. Very few humans can manage any of the dinosaurian dialects.”
Will smiled shyly. “It’s a hobby of mine, sir. And as a skybax rider, I get around and overhear more than most people. I’ve made it my business to try and learn a few words of each tribe’s tongue.”
Toranaga nodded approvingly. “And what have you managed to learn from our distressed young patient here?”
“Not much, really. But I do recognize some of her utterances as names. Struthi
e names are quite distinctive. She keeps repeating these over and over.”
“That makes sense. In her discomfort she would naturally call out first for her family. How many names?”
“Both parents. I can tell from the honorific glottal stops. One, maybe two siblings.” He shrugged helplessly. “That’s all I could make out. She’s not speaking very clearly.”
“To say the least,” Toranaga agreed. “While I applaud your linguistic efforts, young Denison, it is apparent we still require the assistance of a professional translator.”
“I quite agree, sir.”
“Meanwhile, we’ll see if we can’t get some real food into her. Room-temperature soups and broths, for a start. We will try to revive her gradually. Until then not even a translator will be able to get much out of her.”
The nurse in the sari looked across the bed at him. “Do you think the authorities should be notified, Doctor?”
Toranaga considered. “Not now. We do not have any idea as yet as to the cause of her condition. Though appalling, it may have a quite natural explanation. Also, all the relevant authorities are working overtime to help with the evacuation from the Northern Plains. There is much still to be organized.” He glanced outside, scanning the cloud-splotched sky. “If the storm is a bad one they will have much more to do than worry about one sick Struthiomimus. Let us see if we can deal with this matter ourselves before we go bawling for help.”
“Yes, sir.” The woman bowed contritely.
“And as for you, young man.” Will stiffened self-consciously. “Since you have volunteered your assistance in this case, perhaps I can impose on you to remain with us until a translator does arrive. If you know three words of Struthine, that is three words more than myself or my assistants. Your help is valued.”
“Of course I will stay, sir.” This was much more interesting than analyzing wind currents.
He gazed curiously down at the softly moaning struthie. What had happened to her out there in the mountains? Where was her family? How had she been reduced to such a dire condition?
And perhaps most importantly of all, what had left her so badly frightened?