Private's life fell into a pattern. He and Rico would go and fish for several days' worth of food, then they would head back to the cave. Rico gave him language lessons, which were much easier than they otherwise would have been thanks to the fact that Private actually already knew the language, which Private would repeat to himself for days. After a day, Rico would hack up rations for one or two days then head out onto the frozen landscape to make the trek to another tribe to question them.
Private was never allowed to go with him, which irked the young penguin, even though he knew there was obviously a reason. So he took to exploring the tundra while Rico was gone, training his eyes to pick out landmarks. His eyes were now used to the snow that stretched to the horizon, kissing the sky far away, and he could now distinguish between mounds of snow and icy rocks. He was proud of himself, and he couldn't wait to show Rico, but there hadn't been much interaction between them lately.
Something dark glittered in Rico's blue eyes, a suspicion that he kept locked inside, and Private had a feeling that whatever it was, it wasn't good for Skipper and Kowalski. But Rico never confided in him. In fact, he seemed to want to avoid the subject. Whenever Private asked him about his trips, he would tell him in few words that that tribe wasn't the one that had sheltered Blowhole. Sometimes he came back with presents from the tribes, which Private was fascinated by. But each time he returned, the darkness was greater than before, and Rico would sit apart from him, brooding on whatever was bothering him.
The seventh time Rico left him on his own, Private woke up to find a small pile of fish and a symbol that meant Rico would be back in two days. Wiping out the snow, Private ate a conservative breakfast then headed out into the fields of snow. He followed the landmarks, weaving this way and that, his sharp eyes watching for movement and danger. It was with great pleasure that Private found himself acclimated to danger already, and he ached to prove himself to Rico.
After several hours, he headed back, but movement around the cave made him pause. He hid behind a rock and squinted in the gloom. Wolves sniffed around the cave, conversing in a dialect of Antarctican. It took Private a moment to decipher the words.
"Penguins," a shaggy grey male said. He growled, his eyes going over the footprints that Private had left when he'd headed out to explore. "One at least."
"Do we tell Apanka?" a paler one said.
"We could wait for dinner," the third wolf said. White splotches covered his back, standing out from his grey fur.
"Dinner's already here," the pale wolf said, raising his nose. "Fish."
Private's heart clenched when he heard them snapping up his rations. He knew at once that he would have to go fishing by himself. Nerves battled his excitement at finally having the chance to fish alone, but for the moment, he did not dare to move. The wolves sniffed around for a while, murmuring about the strange item in the cave, which Private knew was the oil lantern before a howl let him know that there were more wolves around. Their cave was no longer safe, but what could he do about it?
After almost an hour, the wolves gave up and ran away, but Private knew that they would be back to check for an easy dinner. Private scurried into the cave to check if there was any food left, but there wasn't. Only the lantern, untouched by those who didn't know what it was. Private was not Rico, so he could do nothing but leave it there. What was he supposed to do now? He would have to keep near the cave to catch Rico when he came back. Then they would have to find somewhere else to stay. First things first, though, his belly ached with hunger, and he had to fish.
Private headed out for their fishing grounds, thinking ruefully of his small breakfast. He should have eaten more. But he hadn't, so now he had to fish. He slid quickly over to their lookout posts and settled in to wait for safety. There was no movement, but that thing on the horizon still bothered Private. It didn't look like it belonged in Antarctica. When he was sure that he was safe, he slid out onto the ice and began his exercises.
When he dove, it was with grace and purpose, and he got lucky with a school of fish almost immediately. He decided that it would be wise to fill his belly, and he danced around the water, popping up only to breathe as he ate all he could. Just when he was turning to go back to the surface, a swift movement caught his eye, and he dove deep. Glancing back, he was terrified to see a leopard seal after him. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he fought it. That was how you died, Rico said.
Private had only enough air left to last maybe a minute, and his mind began to analyze his situation. The seal was fast in the water, but so was he. He was thinner, smaller, more agile. He would have to be smart to get out of this situation. So he slowed down, pretending to struggle to get away. The seal got closer and closer, and Private's heart thudded like the bass drums in Julien's favorite song. He stilled for a moment, too terrified for a moment to look back. But he did, and it was a good thing he did.
The young penguin saw teeth and tongue, and he did the only thing he could, the only thing he'd thought of, and dodged, shooting up as the seal went down. Only one thought was in his head: Get to the surface! Private's lungs begged for air, and still he pushed himself up, up, up toward the sky and fresh air. He could sense the large form of the seal behind him, and with one powerful flap of his flippers, he launched out of the hole into the icy air. He sucked in as he soared in an arc to the ice. He slid as fast as he could across the slick surface, far, far away from the hole where the seal was swearing at him.
Only when he could no longer hear the curses did Private slow down. He scrambled to a bank and crawled up it, gasping in air as his heart thundered in his ears. Blackness at the edge of his vision, which he hadn't noticed, receded as he sucked in oxygen with great, heaving breaths. Just as he caught his breath, he heard movement, and he jolted to his feet, body tense as he looked for a wolf or some other predator. What he saw made him pause.
It was a group of penguins, his species of penguin, and they held weapons. Not tribal weapons, which he had seen when Rico brought them back. No, they held not bone knives and clubs but a flamethrower and a walkie talkie. They stared at him then began to speak English to each other, and Private nearly sobbed in relief.
"Native," one said.
"Which tribe?"
"None near here."
"We'll have to talk to the general."
"Do we let him go?"
"We don't speak their tongue."
Private finally found his voice. "You may not speak their tongue, but I speak yours!" he exclaimed, giddy.
The penguins jumped and spun to him, their eyes wide and their beaks hanging open. "You speak English?" one demanded.
"Yes!"
"Do any other natives?"
"I'm not a native," Private said. "I'm not from here. I'm here on a mission to find my commanding officer with one of my superiors."
The penguins stared at him for a moment then the one holding the walkie talkie pressed the button. "Jenner here. Tell the general that we found somebody important that he needs to talk to."
'Me? Important?' Private thought in bewilderment, but he didn't move.
"Come, penguin," a burly penguin said, stepping forward. "You will meet our general."
Private followed, his heart beating hard for a completely different reason now. He slid into a camp full of military penguins, who all looked at him in confusion. When the burly penguin popped onto his feet, Private did, too, waddling to a huge tent with a star on it.
"General, sir," the penguin called. "We have somebody who speaks our language who claims to be on a mission of his own."
A squat penguin came out, his eyes so familiar that it hurt, but Private couldn't place it. Without any prompting, he saluted.
"I am Private, General, sir," he said, standing straight-backed and tall. "Rank of senior private."
The other penguins looked shocked at his behavior, but the general only grimaced, studying him.
"At ease, soldier," he ordered. Private slid into attention, keeping his eyes straight. The general turned to the burly penguin. "Captain, where did you find him?"
"On the ice fields. He came up onto our bank and we were going to send him back to the other side, but he spoke our language."
The general snapped his beak once then cast a critical eye over Private. "What mission are you on, soldier?"
"My commanding officers have been captured by our archenemy, sir," Private replied crisply. "And my only remaining commanding officer and I have come here to find and rescue them."
"Team of four, I see," the general mused. "How old are you?"
"Three years, sir."
"Young penguin," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"And where is your commanding officer?"
"Speaking with one of the tribes, sir."
"What for?"
"We believe that one of the tribes had to give our enemy permission to stay on their land in a cave system. My officer has gone to see if he can find out which one. He will be back day after next."
"What brings you out here?"
"I had to go fishing, sir," Private answered. "Wolves found our cave and I do not dare go back there except to get my commanding officer."
"So you have nowhere to stay."
"No, sir. We do not."
"But you say that you fished those waters?"
"Yes, sir."
"Could you teach our boys to fish there?"
Private saluted again. "Yes, sir. But can't they fish?"
"No. We brought rations, but they are nearly gone. We do not fish for our food."
"I'm sorry," Private said without thinking.
The general blinked. "What do you mean, soldier?"
"I mean that fishing is great fun and a good activity to teach alertness and speed, sir."
"Well, if you say so. You will teach our boys how to fish, and we will allow you and your commanding officer to stay with us. He can teach us Antarctican, yes?"
Private shook his head. "He has damage to his vocal cords. He cannot speak English, though he understands it. I can speak his tongue and this one."
The general got an odd expression on his face. "Does he have a scar right here?" he asked, gesturing to the left side of his beak.
Startled, the young penguin nodded. "Yes, sir."
"His name?"
"Rico, sir."
"Rico. And you're Private," the general muttered. He began to pace back and forth, clearly agitated. He turned to face Private after a moment. "And you say that your commanding officers have been captured by an archenemy?"
"Yes, sir."
"A dolphin, is he? An electric eye and a scar?"
Private frowned. "How do you know about Blowhole, sir?"
The general snorted. "Stupid boy. Getting himself captured. I thought his second was smarter than that."
A dawning realization began to bloom inside of Private's mind. When the general faced him again, he looked into those familiar eyes and knew at once who he was talking to. So the penguin's next words didn't surprise him.
"I thought my son knew better than that. Trust Skipper to get captured by that maniac. Looks like I have two problems on my flippers now."