A plentiful planet dotted with glistening round fresh-water lakes sprinkled below towering oval plateaus was home to two forms of intelligent life: the mawhs and the ploons. The mawhs were scampering four-legged prey, and the ploons were swooping large-winged predators. The small, but clever, mawhs dug complex underground tunnels in the woodlands. The powerful ploons nested atop one of the flat plateaus.
Similar in size and shape to chipmunks, the plant-eating mawhs had large floppy ears that helped them hear the movement of a nearby ploon—times when they needed to scoot to a burrow. The much larger hawk-like, purple-feathered, yellow-headed ploons had the excellent eyes and cutting claws of owls—features that made them fierce hunters.
Skilled at storing food, such as seeds, roots and nuts, in baskets made from long leather-like lake weeds, the nimble mawhs prepared well for winters. Whereas the ploons dealt with stretches of cold by spending their days sky-stalking mawhs that strayed too far from places to hide.
A source of pleasure shared by the mawhs
and ploons was the beautiful night sky. Throughout all seasons, there was an array of sparkling stars to marvel at overhead. Even more spectacular, there was a captivating multi-colored circular nebula, named Sky Eye, that had a glimmering orange aura surrounding what appeared to be a green iris and a pink pupil.
After spending far more than the usual time being cared for by her parents, a young ploon, Snomy, was again told she had to grow up. “Today is the day your father and I intend on celebrating your successful first hunt, Snomy,” said the youngster’s hopeful mother.
Though a bright youngster who had learned to talk and fly at a rapid pace, Snomy lacked the predator’s zeal usual for young ploons. “I don’t think I’m ready to hunt,” she told her parents with a frown.
“That’s what you’ve been saying for far too long,” grumbled the father as he stepped forward. “Your jitters aren’t going away because your mother and I have been softees. The softiness must stop!” he made known.
The mother took the father’s side. “Your father is right, Snomy. The coddling has to stop. You need to muster some oomph. Ploons can’t survive without oomph.”
The father didn’t hold back. “That you peck at the ground for scraps like a lowly mawh is humiliating!” he stated before making a harsh demand: “Your mother and I don’t want you to return home until your belly is full of mawh!”
The mother again agreed with the father. “It’s for your own good, Snomy. We’re just being responsible parents. Just remember to stay away from thorn bushes,” she cautioned.
“Staying away from thorn bushes is very important,” noted the father. “Never, absolutely never try to capture a crafty mawh who’s wiggling about in a patch of those prickly bushes,” he further emphasized.
“I understand,” replied Snomy before turning and flexing her three-foot wingspan to prepare for flight, then pushing off with claws while flapping fast to gain height.
“I’m worried about her,” said the mother as both parents watched their daughter glide over the edge of the ploons’ plateau.
A seven-inch-long young mawh, by the name of Nug, was also struggling to do as he was told. Like all mawhs, Nug spent much of each day busily gathering and storing food. He wasn’t, however, showing the timidness usual for mawhs. In particular, despite many warnings by his patient parents, he didn’t always pause often enough to scan overhead for hungry ploons.
On a clear, warm day, while gathering root-veggies, tree-nuts and thornbush-berries on his own, Nug once again forgot for too long to look up, causing him not to see a lone ploon circling above.
The predator with Nug in her sights was a half-hearted Snomy. Wanting to be able to tell her parents she attempted to snatch a mawh, she found the will to casually dip downward.
While busy filling a basket with berries, Nug reminded himself that each time he left the network of mawh tunnels his life was at risk. Unfortunately, the warning wasn’t followed by tipping head back and looking up while pivoting—a skill his parents had taught him.
He doesn’t seem to see me, Snomy nervously told herself.
While not being seen should be good news for a ploon, that wasn’t the case for Snomy. Knowing she had an unfair advantage made her more anxious. Just scaring that mawh feels all wrong, she thought, fretting too much to notice the mawh below was in one of the thorn bushes she’d been told over and over to avoid.
Nug, meanwhile, remained caught up in munching on and packing away berries.
Wanting to tell her parents she’d made a sincere effort to do what they wanted, a jittery Snomy dove toward Nug. Her plan was to merely scare off the unsuspecting mawh. After extending claws, she did something ploons never do when about to pounce on prey: She squawked.
Warned by the shriek, Nug looked up, saw the descending ploon and briefly froze. Then, after jerking sideways as Snomy pulled up, he dashed into an opening in the nearby ledge, where he watched in terror as the ploon landed.
Though relieved to see the mawh bolt to safety, Snomy soon realized her tail had been snared in the netting of a thorn bush. Unable to flap, twist or bite herself loose, she panicked. “Help,” she called out.
Realizing he could easily be grabbed if the ploon suddenly broke free, Nug decided trying to dart from the crevice in which he was hiding was too risky. Quietly creeping forward, he poked his head out long enough for Snomy and him to make eye contact.
“I don’t want to harm you. I just want to be freed,” said Snomy, feeling helpless.
I can’t trust a ploon, thought Nug. “If I help you, you’ll eat me,” he told her.
“No. I’ll thank you, then be on my way,” promised Snomy.
“Why should I trust you?” asked Nug.
“My answer is awfully odd,” answered Snomy.
Nug was curious. “I’m listening,” he replied.
“I’m an oddball ploon who refuses to harm a mawh. Though letting you go will be seen by my flock as messing up in a big way, I’ll be relieved,” explained Snomy.
While encouraged by what he’d heard, Nug remained fearful. “My name is Nug. . . . You sound honest, but how can I be sure?”
“My name is Snomy. I guess you can’t be sure. But please believe that I don’t have a speck of the hunting oomph ploons are supposed to have. Never mind the fact that I wouldn’t think much of myself if I broke my word,” she shared.
“Please don’t turn out to be a trickster,” pleaded Nug.
“I’m not tricking you!” promised Snomy.
Ever so slowly, Nug crept from the cranny in which he’d dashed. After crawling as far from Snomy’s beak as possible, he slid near her tail, then gently pulled on the stem of the thorns piercing her. “Carefully stepping forward should give you the room you need to be on your way,” noted Nug.
After doing as Nug suggested, Snomy burst free. But instead of continuing her ascent, she turned around and headed for the ledge above Nug.
Nug’s heart raced as he returned to the sanctuary he’d just left. “You promised!” he complained, feeling like a fool.
“I’m not breaking my promise! I don’t want to leave without thanking you for trusting and freeing me,” assured Snomy.
Again hearing honesty in Snomy’s voice, Nug took a leap of trust. “You said letting me go would cause the ploons to accuse you of messing up, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” answered Snomy.
“Well, would you be interested in a meal you can’t mess up?” asked Nug, wanting to test Snomy’s honesty.
“I’d like to go home with my belly full. So, the answer is a big yes,” replied Snomy.
“Nug at your service. You’re about to enjoy a belly-bulging assortment of tasty treats! Let’s start with some of these delicious thornbush berries. Just stay where you are while I fling the yummies close enough for you to catch,” said Nug, as he selected a big juicy berry, did a backflip into an open patch of ground, then flung the fruit underhand Snomy’s way.
Beak-nabbing the treat midair left Snomy smiling. “It’s very good! Please toss more?” she politely asked.
“Sure, after flinging a few more berries, I’m going to toss you some scrumptious veggies and nuts. Everything is fresh this time of year. It’s all going to make you healthier and stronger,” said Nug before bouncing into a one-handed handstand from which he skillfully sent a berry toward Snomy’s mouth.
Before long, Snomy’s belly was full. “I’m stuffed. . . . Watching you bop about was very entertaining. Any chance we can meet here around dusk for another meal?”
“As long as I’m not the meal,” joked Nug, wanting to be reassured.
Snomy didn’t laugh. “That’s not funny!”
She seems very truthful, thought Nug as he shrugged. “Well, I’ll see you here later today,” he awkwardly replied, realizing he’d just made plans to share a meal with a ploons—something no mawh had ever done.
When Snomy returned home, her mother wasted no time looking for good news. “How full is your belly, Snomy?” she asked.
Uneasy misleading her mother, Snomy looked away when she answered. “Very full. One plump mawh was all I needed to find.”
The mother straightened with pride, then cheerfully shook wings rapid enough to cause her body to shiver. “I knew you could do it! Your father is also going to flutter with happiness when we tell him. I bet you’re looking forward to heading out for your next meal,” she assumed.
“I’m planning to hunt later today,” assured Snomy, again hiding the truth.
Unlike Snomy, Nug was open with his parents and neighbors. Believing his time with Snomy was a breakthrough of sorts, he eagerly shared what had happened.
But instead of praise, Nug heard outrage. The adults present squirmed and shuffled while expressing alarm.
“You’re a young fool! What you’ve done mustn’t ever happen again,” declared a gramps.
“We can’t let other foolish youngsters hear about such a happening!” insisted a granny.
One of the colony bigshots spoke next. “Once that crazy young ploon you met tells other ploons what she did, she’ll be shunned, just like you’ll be if you don’t assure us you understand the horrible mistake you made.”
After bowing his head to show he’d been put in his place, Nug surprised the adults and himself by taking a stand. “But a ploon has liked the food we like. Maybe other ploons will like the food we like,” he suggested.
“Where did you get that silly notion? Letting down our guard as you suggest will only put us in ploons’ bellies!” declared another colony leader.
Nug tried a last ditch plea. “I’m just saying it could be a beginning. Is there anyone willing to come with me to meet Snomy?”
The leader who had just spoken laid down the law. “Whoever goes to such a meeting will be banned from the colony!”
Nug wasn’t ready to give up. “But what if we don’t need to live fidgety fretful lives? If we can help the ploons to enjoy and store field and forest foods as we do, wouldn’t mawhs be safer and happier? Maybe the travelers who brought everyone here made sure both groups spoke the same language to help mawhs and ploons get along. Why can’t befriending the ploons be what’s always been possible?”
A leader who had been silent was stern. “If the travelers wanted us to get along with ploons, they would have told the ploons not to make a meal of us. It’s that simple! Nug’s far-fetched drivel must stop!” she declared as she looked toward Nug’s mother and father. “I expect your parents to bring an immediate end to their son’s dangerous mischief!”
Nug’s mother stepped forward. “Of course we will,” she assured the leader.
As Nug and his parents walked away from the gathering, his mother fussed. “I’m done letting things slide. I want to see a lot more twitching, flinching and ducking. It’s time you started acting like a normal mawh!”
With his father between him and his mother, Nug tried to lighten the mood by mimicking mawh behavior with a spastic dance.
Mindful of the mother’s intense concern, the father stifled a ready-to-burst laugh while head-shaking for Nug to stop.
Unable to get his father to grin—something he usually could count on, Nug hung his head. The adults are too afraid to try to make things better, he told himself.
Despite realizing they were taking a great risk, Snomy and Nug met as they’d planned. After enjoying another mix of veggies, berries and nuts, during which Nug again offered an array of silly acrobatic antics, they sat on a flat ledge and relaxed.
“My parents say the travelers who brought our mawh and ploon ancestors to this world taught both groups the same language,” said Nug, always finding the travelers an interesting topic.
“Adult ploons also talk about the travelers, but never about why mawhs and ploons have the same language,” said Snomy. “Maybe they fear pointing out we have something in common might weaken the ploons’ will to hunt. . . . I like talking about the travelers.”
She’s interested in what I like to talk about, happily thought Nug. “I told the adults that helping the ploons enjoy and stash plant food would better the lives of ploons and mawhs, but no one believed such a thing was possible. Things didn’t get any better when I said getting along with ploons may be what the travelers wanted,” he shared.
“Getting to know you, Nug, has ended whatever slim chance there was that I might hunt as my flock does. . . . If my parents heard me say that, they’d want nothing to do with me,” worried Snomy.
A flustered Nug shook his head. “The travelers should have given our ancestors more help,” he suggested.
“Maybe something caused them to move on. After all, travelers travel, right? . . . It’s an especially beautiful sky tonight,” pondered Snomy as the Sky Eye Nebula began to appear in the darkening sky.
“Do ploons believe, as mawhs do, that the travelers lived on High Plateau when they were here?” asked Nug as he turned to view the mammoth mesa.
“I’ve heard my mother say that,” answered Snomy, also looking toward High Plateau.
“I often wonder if there’s a way to get to the top and see if the travelers left something behind,” shared Nug.
“No ploon has flown even halfway up High Plateau. It’s twice as high as the plateau the ploons live on,” explained Snomy.
“I bet the travelers left something behind—maybe something that would encourage mawhs and ploons to get along,” wished Nug.
“Why would they leave something so important out of reach?” asked Snomy.
“I guess what I’m saying doesn’t make sense. But the fix you and I are in can’t be what the travelers wanted,” answered a perplexed Nug.
“It’s hard to believe the travelers, who must be smarter than mawhs and ploons, brought us here just to be predators and prey,” said Snomy.
“Talking with you is super,” shared Nug.
Snomy bowed her head. “I hope you think of me as a friend.”
“I already consider you my best friend,” quickly replied Nug.
“I already think of you as a true friend,” assured Snomy.
“We’re two true, best friends,” said Nug with a smile.
The closeness Snomy and Nug were enjoying was, however, about to be brought to an abrupt end. Without warning, the whooshing sound of flapping wings was soon followed by the sight of a five-foot-wide wall of feathers. In a flash, the night sky was blocked from Snomy and Nug’s view. Realizing another ploon had arrived, Snomy screeched: “Run, Nug!”
After scooting out of sight, Nug found a nearby boulder to dash behind—a hideout that let him view and overhear what followed.
Too shaken to notice the other ploon’s face, Snomy spread her wings and began short, but forceful flaps in an effort to convince the intruder to seek mawh-meal elsewhere.
Unwilling to back off, the much larger ploon landed in front of Snomy. Then, after both tucked wings by sides, Snomy discovered, to her surprise, she was facing her father.
“Your mother and I were worried about you,” began her father. “I’ve been searching for some time. . . . I caught a glimpse of the mawh that was here. What’s going on?”
No more lies, thought Snomy as she gulped, then took a deep breath. “I’ve befriended a mawh who freed me from a thornbush.”
“You did what?” shouted the father.
Snomy shared more about the day’s events. “After badly failing to complete a hunt, I ate with a helpful mawh. We shared berries, veggies and nuts. I enjoyed the meal so much that I came back to share another meal with him. . . . All the while, I made a friend!”
“Do you understand what you’re telling me?” angrily asked the father before answering his own question. “You’re telling me you no longer wish to live with your own kind!”
“But the wonderful thing that’s happened to me can happen to other ploons!” suggested Snomy.
“That’s nonsense! The elders will surely see what you’re telling me as a threat to all ploons,” bellowed the father.
Snomy tried to reason with him. “If the mawhs easily survive cold winters by storing food, why can’t ploons?” she asked.
The father proudly cocked his head before answering. “The mawhs are ground dwellers who hide in holes. Ploons are sky-soarers who perch on peaks. . . .We don’t stash dry morsels in baskets. We swoop past treetops for raw hunks of meat!” he declared.
“But ploons can learn a better way to get and enjoy the food they need,” persisted Snomy.
Before flying off, the fuming father summed up the state of affairs. “ploons don’t pick and pile. We plunge and pierce! Only come home if you decide to honor what it means to be a ploon.”
As her father headed into the night, Snomy hung her head. There’s nothing I could say that would change his mind, she told herself.
Having witnessed the intense father-daughter dispute, Nug reappeared, unsure how to be helpful. “I thought you bravely made good sense,” he told Snomy.
Though Snomy and Nug were fearful of being separated from their parents, they didn’t see how they’d ever be what their parents and communities wanted them to be. So, they made a choice no ploon or mawh had ever made: They decided to set out on their own.
“We’ll fill our own food baskets, then tote them to storage places only we know about,” planned Nug as they hiked through the night to a wooded area behind a distant plateau—a location far from the mawhs’ colony and the ploons’ flock.
Snomy had something important to say. “A ploon able to make a meal of you would be seen as a hero by other ploons. So, don’t stray far from the ledge-crevices that extend along the bottom of the plateau we’ve chosen,” she stressed.
Nug looked upward. “Along with finding a spot with a lot of porous ledge, we’ve got a terrific view of High Plateau and Sky Eye,” he pointed out.
The winter months went well for Snomy and Nug. Thanks to Nug’s food-storage know-how and Snomy’s willingness to learn, they were able to keep their bellies full. Better still, the long chats they enjoyed kept them from feeling bored or lonely. They did, though, sometimes miss their parents.
“The adults were glad to get rid of us,” decided Nug as they scanned the glittering night sky.
“They’re probably pretending we no longer exist,” sadly said Snomy.
“I’ve been thinking more and more that there must be a way to convince mawhs and ploons to at least ponder the possibility of getting along,” shared Nug.
“It sounds like you’ve been working on a scheme,” guessed Snomy.
Nug had, in fact, been mulling a plan. “I’m sure your new healthy diet has been strengthening your wings. I bet you’re strong enough to carry me in a well-built basket fastened to your legs.”
Snomy caught on. “You want us to fly over the mawhs’ colony and the ploons’ flock. What if a hungry or ornery ploon rips you from the basket?” she asked.
A grinning Nug had an answer. “Because I’ll be underneath you, I doubt they’ll get close to me. But if they do, I’ll beak-bop them with a branch. . . . We both want to show mawhs and ploons there’s a better way to live, right?” he noted.
“The thought of you falling out of such a contraption sends a chill through me. Why aren’t you scaring yourself?” questioned Snomy.
“I trust us to make the basket extra secure. . . . There’s something else I’ve been wanting to tell you,” informed Nug as he stood and faced Snomy.
“What’s that?” asked Snomy.
Nug’s eyes widened. “Watching you gracefully glide from place to place makes me want to do the same, even if only as a passenger. You’d be letting me know what no mawh has known: the splendor of flight!” he revealed while lifting front paws.
“I don’t want to let you down,” said Snomy before coming up with a compromise. “If we make a sturdy basket with a strong waist strap, I’ll take you for flights in the sky directly above us. I’ll also consider carrying an empty basket during a solo flight over the ploons’ plateau!”
“But my beak-bopping could come in handy,” pleaded Nug.
“Hightailing it on my own will be hard enough,” declared Snomy.
By noon the next day, Snomy and Nug had an extra-rugged basket built. Satisfied the basket was flight-worthy, Snomy let Nug strap it to her upper legs.
“We’re ready. . . . Can I hop aboard?” asked Nug.
After flexing legs, Snomy nodded OK.
Once crouching in the basket, Nug tightened a strap around his waist, then gripped the edge of the basket. Suddenly feeling skittish, he tried to request a delay. “Maybe this wasn’t such a. . . ,” he began.
“Here we go,” interrupted Snomy as she aimed head forward, spread wings outward and began smooth, steady strokes.
Soon dazzled by how quickly and easily they rose, Nug’s anxiety was overtaken by his amazement. “Wow! It’s what I hoped it would be,” he exclaimed as they continued upward.
“Ready for some fun?” asked Snomy while leveling off 200 feet above the ground.
“Sure!” quickly answered Nug.
Snomy shortened her wingspan to swerve into a dive that sent them whizzing between treetops. “Hold on! We going to skim the lake,” she announced while heading for the shimmering blue water ahead of them. Soon gliding only inches above the ripples, she dipped claws downward, just enough to spray water onto Nug.
Realizing the surprise shower was a fun-loving stunt, Nug leaned over the basket and dunked a paw deep enough to splash Snomy.
Snomy chuckled. “OK, you got even. Would you like to stand atop the plateau behind our camp?” she asked.
Nug was gung-ho. “That would be great!” he answered.
Flapping hard to gain altitude, Snomy found she had to circle a bit to overcome the steepness. “This plateau is a little higher than the one the ploons live on, but it’s doable,” she assured Nug.
After they safely landed, Nug was surprised by the lack of a view. “I thought we’d see more, not less, from up here,” he noted.
“Only sky, clouds and High Plateau can be seen without getting close to the edge,” pointed out Snomy.
“Even from up here High Plateau looks super high,” said Nug.
“That’s because it is super high,” assured Snomy.
Keeping her word, Snomy set out for the ploons’ plateau the following morning with the empty basket attached to her. To pace herself and stay calm, she maintained slow, sweeping strokes while taking full, relaxing breaths. Nevertheless, the closer she got to her old home, the more anxious she felt.
Once over the plateau, Snomy decided it was best to continue to poke along. Save your energy, she told herself as she glanced down long enough to see members of her former flock.
When Snomy reached the midpoint of the mesa, she was pleased with how things were going. Though she saw ploons glaring upward and squawking loudly, she didn’t see anyone take flight. So far, so good, she thought, unaware of the five fierce ploons rapidly gaining on her.
Eventually glancing back, Snomy saw the head-lurching ploons closing in on her. Though panic-stricken at first, she soon gathered the will and the ability to flap much faster! Her sudden speed dumbfounded those following. Within seconds, she streaked so far ahead of her pursuers that they sheepishly gave up in unison. Eager to share her triumph with Nug, she flew out of sight, then headed home.
Finding Nug pacing when she returned, Snomy quickly put him at ease. “You were right! Our diet has made me not only healthier but also stronger. While being chased by some pesky ploons, I easily escaped!” she happily shared.
“You’ve shown them what’s possible!” cheerfully praised Nug. “If the flock and colony saw us together, they’d also see the friendship and adventure that’s possible,” he excitedly noted.
“OK, tomorrow we’ll cruise over the colony,” promised Snomy, still not ready to commit to taking Nug over the ploons’ plateau.
“Let’s celebrate today’s triumph with a feast,” suggested Nug as he jumped high enough to manage a triple twirl before spreading limbs to cartwheel his way to their food bins.
“Yes, let’s rejoice,” agreed Snomy before fluttering feathers with the body-vibrating jiggle usual for cheerful ploons.
With Snomy’s success spurring them, the pair were airborne early the next day.
“We’re almost over the colony,” informed Snomy as she stopped flapping, then glided close enough for those with heads poking out of burrows to see something they’d never seen: a ploon and mawh out for a pleasant midday aerial cruise.
While waving at the mawhs he saw below, Nug merrily shouted. “You could be me!”
“We’re likely being seen as a scary spectacle,” said a grinning Snomy.
“Let’s give the ploons a chance to wave back,” encouraged Nug.
“OK,” agreed Snomy. “I hope they don’t see our flaunting as taunting,” she added.
“Thanks to what happened yesterday, they should be ready for another dose of inspiration,” hoped Nug.
Soon spotting Snomy and Nug cruising overhead, the ploons stood stunned. Though Snomy’s appearance had surprised them a day earlier, the flock never expected she’d return carrying a waving mawh.
A few impressed youngsters, who were huddled far from the adults, looked up with beaks hung wide open.
“It’s as if we’re all sharing an amazing dream,” called out one.
“They aren’t just getting along; they’re also having fun!” added another.
“Snomy hasn’t only shown us she’s the fastest ploon; she’s also shown us she can stay friends with a mawh!” said a third member of the group.
Snomy and Nug began making daily flights over the mawhs’ colony and the ploons’ flock. To their dismay, the leaders in both communities kept telling all not to look up when the pair passed overhead.
“If ignored, the troublemakers will eventually give up,” kept repeating the mawh bigshots.
“Their flybys are shameful! Those two must be shunned!” over and over declared a group of ploon elders.
Though not one mawh waved a paw or one ploon flapped a wing to signal friendliness, Snomy and Nug didn’t give up. In the months that followed, even on bad weather days, they flew over both communities to again and again let it be known that there was another way to live.
Then, on a dreary day, during what had been another humdrum flight, Snomy and Nug had their persistence pay off. While passing over a lake as they traveled from the colony to the flock, a vision jolted them from their doldrums. So surprised by what was headed toward them, Snomy looked down at Nug to see if he, too, saw what she saw.
“It’s finally happened!” cried out an astonished Nug as a mawh riding in a basket tied to a ploon’s legs approached.
After leading the way to a landing spot, Snomy was first to speak to the unexpected duo. “Hello!” she gleefully greeted.
“We’re hoping you’ll allow us to join your community,” said the other ploon.
“Follow us. We’ll take you to your new home,” sprightly invited Nug as he leaped to the other mawh with open arms, prompting Snomy to pat the other ploon with her wing.
In the years that followed, slowly but surely nearly all the ploons and mawhs became members of the community started by Snomy and Nug. While most newcomers came on their own, a few arrived with a mawh riding in a basket carried by a ploon. The mawhs who came gave up the role of hunted, and the ploons who came gave up the role of hunter. All who arrived sought greater safety, health and self-respect. The thriving community was a place of harmony and joy. Mawhs and ploons shared meals, fun-loving basket rides and chatty star gazing.
The small group of ploons who continued to be predators and the tiny number of mawhs who stayed prey remained in the old communities. For them, the nearby flourishing friendships were something to distrust.
Nug, who had been weakened by old age, began finding routine activities, such as climbing into a flight basket, difficult. Not wanting to replace him with another mawhs partner, Snomy let younger ploon-mawh pairs take the routine trips over the old communities.
“I miss our flyovers, Snomy. We can’t give up on the few mawh and ploon holdouts,” shared Nug as he hobbled next to Snomy with help from a branch-cane.
“Don’t worry. The youngsters taking our place are spry and reliable,” assured Snomy.
“I still wonder if the travelers left something behind on High Plateau,” he shared just before an ache in his arms sharpened as he sat.
Nug’s wince worried Snomy. “Are you OK?” she asked.
“The twinge will pass,” answered Nug, trying to perk up. “I just wish I wasn’t always so tired. While my body tells me no one escapes old age, my mind tells me there’s time to search High Plateau for something left behind by the travelers. If only it wasn’t too steep for hiking and too high for flying. . . . I wish I could stop wanting to take a look around up there,” he bemoaned.
“I, too, wish you could let go of that wish,” said Snomy while shaking her head.
Nug had regret. “Actually, what I just said isn’t true. I can stop wishing. . . . I don’t want us to be at odds, even a little bit,” he told Snomy as he patted her wing.
After a short silence, Snomy surprised Nug. “If failing won’t be a big let down for you, I’ll give High Plateau a try.”
Feeling selfish, Nug resisted. “Asking you to try what hasn’t been done, with a useless passenger no less, doesn’t make sense,” he told her.
Having made up her mind, Snomy closed eyes. “It’s time for snoozing, not waffling,” she noted.
After their afternoon nap, Snomy was ready to try to grant Nug his wish. “We’re not going to regret not trying, Nug,” she told him while stretching wings.
“Are you sure?” asked Nug.
“No, but knowing we can glide to safety if exhaustion sets in has me willing to try,” answered Snomy.
With their flight basket in place, Nug flopped aboard. Soon kneeling, he yanked the safety strap snug. “Ready for liftoff,” he announced.
“Then let’s see if we can find something left behind by the travelers,” said Snomy before spreading wings, extending head and getting her usual smooth takeoff underway.
After completing three-quarters of their journey, Snomy still felt in control. “So far, I feel able,” she told Nug.
Seconds later, though, a swirling gust of wind flipped Snomy and Nug upside down. Making matters even worse, the gale sent them careening into the side of the plateau.
While Nug used what strength he had to brace himself inside the basket, Snomy mightily pushed away from the hard vertical ledge with spread claws, sending them into a freefall. In a flash, they became a sprawling, plummeting jumble of fur and feathers.
“Hold on!” shouted Snomy as she frantically twisted and flailed. Then, with wings a blur from her frantic forceful flapping, Snomy amazingly gained control. Thirty feet from disaster, she swerved parallel to the ground, enabling her and Nug to catch their breath and keep their hearts from bursting.
“Are you OK?” asked Snomy.
“Yes, you saved us!” said a thankful Nug.
Snomy didn’t lose heart. “I’m going to fly along the other side of High Plateau. I believe doing so will lessen the likelihood we’ll encounter another upending updraft. Are you up to continuing?” she checked.
“I’m fine. Are you sure about another try?” asked Nug.
“We’re not giving up yet!” said a determined Snomy.
Changing sides made the remainder of their flight bumpy, but hitch-free. Though breathing harder as the air grew thinner, their resolve didn’t wane. With the top of High Plateau only a minute or so away, Snomy managed sluggish, but steady strokes. Finally able to touch down, they began searching for evidence of the travelers.
After thoroughly combing the plateau and not finding any sign of the travelers, Snomy and Nug leaned against a stretch of ledge. Tired, they looked up and saw the Sky Eye nebula begin to brighten as nightfall quickened.
“I’m thinking about the most wonderful day, Nug,” warmly said Snomy.
“That was the day we met!” strained Nug as a cold breeze left him shivering.
“Yes, I remember it as if it was yesterday,” shared Snomy while spreading a wing to cloak and warm Nug.
After Snomy dropped her head next to Nug’s, both gazed at the nebula.
“Sky Eye could be a passageway,” suggested a wheezing Nug. . . . “I now have a new wish—one that really and truly matters,” he made know.
Though Snomy sensed the answer would be upsetting, she forced herself to ask. “What is your new wish?”
“I wish I didn’t have to take my next trip without you. . . . You can be sure. . .that once I get wherever it is I’m going. . .I’ll start making plans. . .for our next adventure,” assured Nug, again struggling to speak.
While tears fell on feathers, Snomy spoke firmly. “You’re not going anywhere without me!” she told Nug, refusing to accept what was happening.
Soon after Nug’s eyelids shut, he visualized snippets of the precious times they’d shared. Beginning with their wondrous first encounter, he made his way to the mournful moment at hand.
Snomy, meanwhile, continued to look up at Sky Eye. Then, when the nebula’s pupil-like center briefly blinked from pink to blue, she chose to believe the change of color meant the acceptance of a new arrival.
1. Why did Snomy and Nug believe the ploons could give up being predators and the mawhs could give up being prey?
2. Snomy’s father was said the ploons were supposed to “plunge and pierce!” What made him so sure?
3. Track down and report on a time or two when a nonhuman predator befriended a nonhuman prey.
4. Why are or aren’t humans doomed to be predators?
5. Why do you think Snomy changed her mind about flying to the top of High Plateau?”