She couldn’t go back, but she didn’t know how to go forward, either. She knew it was wrong to give up, but when people said you should never give up, they never talked about how hard it was to keep going! Maybe part of being an adventurer was knowing when the adventure was over. Maybe that was another one of those life lessons she was supposed to be learning.

But then she thought about the animals. And the Silver Arrow. She closed her eyes, and a tear squeezed out. She wiped it away and walked back to the library car.

20

Chins

THE HERON HAD FOUND AN OLD BOOK FULL OF PAINTINGS of birds and was leafing through it, turning the pages with the tip of her long beak. The fishing cat had gone for a chilly swim in the swimming pool car and was drying her fur by the woodstove, fast asleep. The mamba was hanging from the overhead lamp, looking like a piece of loose green electrical cable. Kate could never figure out how he got up there.

The baby pangolin was curled into a ball, which the porcupine rolled back and forth along the carpeted floor. The pangolin seemed to enjoy this.

“So,” Kate said. “There’s a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” the heron said.

Kate explained. The animals all thought for a minute.

“If quills would help with this situation in any way,” the porcupine said, “just say the word.”

“Thank you.” Though Kate was pretty sure it wasn’t that kind of problem.

There was another long silence, in the middle of which the fishing cat woke up and asked what was going on and Kate had to explain everything all over again.

The heron closed her big book.

“Do you remember,” she said, “when we talked about invader species and why they’re bad?”

“Yes.”

“There was one invasive species we didn’t mention. An especially bad one, a kind of ape. They have weirdly enlarged heads and hardly any fur.”

“Oh, they’re the worst,” the porcupine said.

“I think I see where you’re going with this,” Kate said.

“Also they have chins,” said the cat. “It’s the strangest thing: a bony spur right under the lower jaw. No other animal on the planet has them.”

“Okay,” Kate said. “Okay. I get it.”

“They’re not just an invasive species; they’re the original invasive species that created all the other ones. We get mad at starlings, but if you think about it, it’s not really their fault. They never asked to be released in North America. They don’t care about Shakespeare. Without those hairless chinny apes, there might not be any invasive species at all.