"There is already a real, live alien among you," Ax pointed out. "Me.
But I have learned about human society. Humans invent all sorts of things that are not true. I have seen photographs of aliens in human newspapers. Do most people believe them?"
"Those aren't real newspapers," Marco said. "No one with half a brain believes those supermarket tabloids."
"And how do we know which newspapers and which TV networks are already infiltrated by the Yeerks?" Cassie said. "We could end up handing the Hork-Bajir right back to the Yeerks."
"Well, what exactly are we supposed to do with Romeo and Juliet back there?" Marco asked sarcastically. "Rent them an apartment? Buy them a house? Get them jobs? I mean, they are just slightly obvious. You know?
People are probably going to notice them if they start shopping at the mall."
We all laughed. But it was a brief laugh. The truth is, we didn't know what to do.
"Those two may be the only free Hork-Bajir in all the galaxy," Ax said.
"The only two free Hork-Bajir in existences
"Like members of an endangered species," Cassie said thoughtfully. "The last two free Hork-Bajir. Maybe the last hope of their kind."
"Oh, man," Marco groaned. "Cassie, don't start in with the ecology stuff, okay? Those are not a pair of spotted owls or humpback whales back there."
"l must stop here," Ax said. "We are close to the edge of the forest." Everyone stopped. Even though they all were
real anxious to get home to be yelled at by their various parents, no one left.
"What Cassie said may be true," Jake pointed out. "These two are an endangered species. What do you do with an endangered species?"
Cassie shrugged. "You find them a safe, protected environment. And then you hope they have lots of little Hork-Bajir, and somehow the species survives."
"Dm, hello. This is Earth," Marcosaid. "There is no safe place for an alien that looks like a mix of gargoyle and a lawn mower."
"Yes, there is," I said.
Four human heads and one Andalite set of eyes all turned to stare up at me.
"Where?" Rachel asked.
"l know a place. Way up in the mountains. A valley. There are caves and fresh water streams. It's hidden."
The picture of the place was clear in my mind. I could see it perfectly.
I saw a beautiful waterfall. I saw tall trees that practically blotted out the sky in some areas. And a wide meadow filled with wildflowers. In my mind I could even imagine the place being home to Hork-Bajir.
"Maybe we could take them there," I suggested.
Jake shrugged. "We don't have any better plan. Right?"
"Right now I need to think about what story I'm going to tell my dad when I get home," Marco said. "Tomorrow we can worry about taking Adam and Eve Hork-Bajir off to Tobias's Garden of Eden."
Not a bad description, I thought. That was a little what the valley was like. I could see the place as clearly in my mind as any place I had ever been.
There was just one little problem. I'd never been there. I'd never actually seen it.
And I had no idea where the lovely pictures in my mind had come from.
J. usually spent the night in my favorite nighttime perch. It's a high branch, up in the very middle of an incredibly old oak. I like the rough oak bark because it's easy to hold onto. I can sink my talons deep and drift off to my dreams.
My regular perch is deep within the tree because it keeps me out of sight of the night predators. The raccoons and foxes and wolves all work at night. They don't worry me too much. Wolves and foxes don't climb trees very well.
I do keep an eye out for raccoons because they can climb when they want to. And they are nasty, dangerous enemies. But it's a rare raccoon that can climb my tree without my hearing him.
I worry more about owls. Not that they usually prey on something as large and tough as a red-tailed hawk. Mostly they eat mice, same as I do. But they still scare me because they have powers I don't have.
I'm used to having this edge over all the other creatures. In the daylight I hear better than most animals, and I see better than any of them. My vision is many times better than human vision. If I were at home plate and you were holding a book open way out in right field, I'd be able to read it. If you were walking by on the other side of the street, I'd be able to see a flea crawling around in your hair. But that's all in daylight. At night I see a little better than a human ...
I mean, better than a normal human. But not much better.
That's why the owls scare me. They see through darkness like I see through daylight. To an owl I'm as visible as if I were outlined in bright red flashing neon. And an owl doesn't make any noise as it flies in for the kill. No noise. None.
It makes me nervous. But what can you do? I guess everyone has problems, right?
But at night as I listen for the sounds of raccoons scrabbling and open my eyes to watch the ghostly owls do their killing work, I wish I had a house.
If you asked me what I think of being a red-
tailed hawk, I'd give you two different answers, depending on the time of day. When the sun is up, and the thermals are piling up the tall clouds, and I'm riding the high breezes a million miles above the humans who crawl along below me ... well, then I'd say it's great.
But at night, when I cower on my branch and peer half-blind through the leaves at a cold moon and can only listen to the sounds of the night predators doing their work, well, that's different.
This particular night was different for a couple of reasons. I was not on my regular perch. I was in a scruffy pine tree that was located near the cave. I was standing guard over the Hork-Bajir, listening for any threats to them. I was out of my normal territory, in an unfamiliar tree. And I was jumpy.
As I sat there with my talons dug into bark, I heard the high-pitched squeal of a mouse.