The goat’s bell jangled as it wandered to the hidden path at the edge of the clearing. It paused at the jungle’s edge and bleated at them.
Bray zipped up his backpack. “Hold on, Pi.”
“Pi?” Hawkins asked.
“Three fourteen,” Bray said. “Three point one four. Pi. It’s amazing you can tie your shoes, Ranger.” He stood and headed for the goat, which turned and entered the jungle.
“We’re being led by a goat,” Joliet said. “Great.”
“It’s not leading us,” Hawkins said. “Just happens to be headed in the same direction.” He chased after Bray, reclaiming his position on point. He paused at the clearing’s edge and peered into the canopy-dimmed jungle. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw the goat waiting for them twenty feet down a switchback trail. It stood next to a footprint.
Hawkins shook his head and thought, We are being led by a goat. And he was actually okay with that. The bell jangling around the goat’s neck would make it a predator’s first target, and would help disguise their approach to anything or anyone that recognized the sound. In fact, if they could get the bell off the goat, Hawkins thought it might be a good idea to take it. But for now, they’d follow the goat, as long as it didn’t start swinging from spiderwebs or sprout sea snake fangs.
23.
As the group neared the bottom the switchback trail on the opposite side of the hill, Hawkins kept expecting an attack. The longer the goat’s bell rang, the more it sounded like a dinner bell. The high-pitched voice of his childhood neighbor calling her cat filled his thoughts. “Here, Draco! Come on! Time for din-din.”
But they were never bothered.
“Has anyone seen a draco-snake?” Bray asked.
“Not a one,” Hawkins replied. “Doesn’t mean they’re not there, though. I think they can hide pretty well when they want to.”
“It’s possible we’re out of their territory,” Joliet said.
Hawkins shook his head. He’d thought of that, too, but the theory had flaws. “Based on their size and the number of individuals we saw, I’d guess the whole island is technically their territory. Would have to be to support that many.”
“Maybe they just lost our scent when we went over the hilltop,” Bray said.
“I don’t think so,” Hawkins said.
Bray shook his open hands at Hawkins. “Then enlighten us, o wise wilderness sage.”
Drake’s voice startled them all when he spoke from the back of the group. “It’s the bell.”
“The bell?” Bray sounded incredulous.
Before Bray could launch into why he thought that was a stupid idea, Hawkins spoke up. “Actually, I agree. The dracos are either afraid of the goat for some reason, and the bell warns them away, or they’ve been trained to avoid the bell.”
“Huh. Like a Pavlovian response?” Bray said. “So instead of salivating when they hear the bell, they run for the hills, or the trees, in this case.”
“Something like that,” Hawkins said. “Either way, I think we should stick close to our goat friend.”
“Or take the bell,” Drake offered.
Hawkins nodded. “If we have to. But I couldn’t use the rifle. It would give away our position.” He motioned to the harpoon in Joliet’s hands. “We’d have to use that.”
Joliet looked mortified. “I’m not shooting the goat.”
“Her name is Pi,” Bray said. He sounded serious, but the grin on his face said otherwise.
“I’ll take care of it,” Drake said.
As Hawkins rounded a stand of palms at the corner of the last switchback, he froze. He thrust an open palm toward the others, stopping them in their tracks.
“What is it?” Joliet whispered.
Hawkins gestured with his hand like he was ringing a bell.
Eyes widened.
The bell had fallen silent.
With the rifle at his shoulder, Hawkins crept around the sharp turn in the trail. When he saw what lay ahead, he relaxed his grip on the rifle, but didn’t lower it. Pi stood at the center of the trail, her white tail twitching. She turned her head slightly and lifted her nose.
Hawkins wasn’t sure if the goat smelled something dangerous, or was tasting the air for a potential snack, but he suspected the first option. Pi hadn’t stopped eating the whole way down the hill. If she took this route often, they probably had her to thank for keeping the path so pristine. At times he felt like the path was part of some kind of nature park. That there were switchbacks meant the trail had been created by men, but its current condition was thanks to Pi, and any other goats on the island.