The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. I had my own little routine to keep me busy, places I'd keep an eye on and people I'd watch out for. Mostly, I was trying to get an idea of where the Yeerks might be hiding. I certainly had a lot of time on my hands - or wings, anyway - and it's not like I could just crash on the couch and watch TV or hang out at the library and browse through the bookshelves. I wasn't a boy anymore; I was a hawk. And hawks spend most of their time patiently waiting for a careless mouse or rabbit to expose itself long enough to swoop down and eat it. But I wasn't hunting for my own food. I needed something to keep my mind occupied, and it's hard to say "no" to trying to save the world as a hobby.
At 3:00, I made my way back out to the edge of town. Back to the little farm on the edge of the forest. Cassie's house, and the barn that her dad operated as a wildlife clinic. This was where I'd been living for the last month, or at least where I slept at night, either in the rafters of the barn or perched in a tree. Toby lived out there, too. It was the only safe place for either of us that was still close enough to town that we could easily get in contact with the rest of the team. It wasn't home by any stretch of the imagination. "Home" would be some place warm and inviting. Somewhere I could invite friends over to hang out. Somewhere with a loving family waiting to see me when I came home from school. Not that I knew what any of that actually felt like. The only thing I really missed about Uncle Carl's house was my pet cat, Dude.
I could see Toby high up in one of the trees, carefully using her wrist blades to cut off a few strips of bark. There was no mistaking her for anything native to Earth - almost six feet tall, scaly green-and-purple skin, dinosaur feet, a serpentine neck and head, and big, sharp blades everywhere, like a walking Swiss army knife. Normally, Toby would have been out there with me to spy on suspected Yeerks. She'd literally grown up in the Yeerk Pool, and even though she'd never been up to the surface before we rescued her, she did have a rough idea of where some of the underground facilities were in relation to each other. If we could figure out where at least one of them was from the surface, we'd be able to map out a good portion of the Yeerk's main base of operations. But Toby had stayed home this time.
The last mission, heading far out to sea to rescue a stranded Andalite from the wreckage of his spaceship, had been pretty rough on Toby. Hork-Bajir are not natural swimmers. They're adapted for life among very tall trees. Just the thought of being out in the ocean had scared her, and that was before she'd been mauled by a shark. I don't believe she would ever admit it to anyone - not even to herself - but she'd been having some bad nightmares since going out there.
I looked around the small clearing, and saw only pine trees, dirt, and a sparse carpet of dry grass.
(Hey, where's Aximili?) I asked.
Toby waved an arm in a vaguely northwest direction.
"Somewhere over there, looking for better grass."
Hawks eat meat, Hork-Bajir eat tree bark... Andalites eat grass. How they do that without mouths, I'm not entirely sure.
(I'll go find him. The others should be here soon.)
I glided over the trees, searching for that telltale flash of blue. There he was, in another clearing almost a mile away, running through a meadow at the bottom of a short cliff.
Seeing an Andalite is always an amazing experience. It's like going deep into an enchanted forest and coming face-to-face with a unicorn, or maybe one of Tolkien's elves. They're almost supernaturally graceful and elegant, unexpectedly dangerous, and also kind of goofy looking. At first glance, you could almost mistake an Andalite for a human wearing a blue shirt, until you noticed the eyes. Two are where you'd expect to see them, but the others are at the ends of flexible stalks on top of their heads. Then there's the nose - it's in the right place, but it consists of three vertical slits. No mouth at all, but for some reason they do have chins. The arms are thin and frail, ending in seven slender fingers. But that's where the similarities to humans end. An Andalite's lower body resembles a horse or a deer, with four powerful legs that end in sharp cloven hooves. Unlike a horse, though, the back slopes down in a way that you'd probably never think of trying to ride one. And then there's the tail, like a long bullwhip with a wicked blade at the end.
(Hey, Ax!) I said, gliding down to land on a nearby boulder. The Andalite stopped and turned to face me. With those stalk eyes, it's almost impossible to sneak up on an Andalite.
(Greetings, Tobias. Your surveillance goes well, I trust?)
(Yeah. But school's out now, and the others will be coming soon. It's time to head back.)
(You conveyed my message to Captain Jake, then?)
(Yes. He says there's some important information to share with everyone. And I learned something while I was out. Come on, let's go.)