The Legend of Thunderfoot Read Free Page A

be dead . He opened the other eye. The moon was low in the sky. A few stars twinkled above. Are there stars and a moon in the Big Desert in the Sky? he wondered.
    Somehow he managed to raise his head. He no longer felt sick to his stomach. His legs no longer throbbed. There was a light glow to the east. It was early morning, before the sun climbed to the sky. In the distance he heard a faint, crunching sound.
    He started to stand. The pain shot through his feet. It pulsed and pounded as if any second they would blow up. I’m still alive. When you go to the Big Desert in the Sky, there is no pain. My feet hurt—so I’ve got to be alive.
    The sound came closer. A coyote. No. A coyote would come quicker. Another crunch. Another scrape. A bobcat. They like to sneak up on their prey, and then pounce.
    He tried to stand. Run. But he knew if he did, his feet would explode. Just my luck. The rattlesnake didn’t do me in. Now I’m going to be breakfast for some bobcat.
    He squinted, trying to see into the darkness. The sound was so close that any second he expected to see the tufted, pointy ears, the yellow cat eyes, the sharp teeth. There was nothing. The only thing he could see was a rock. It was smooth as a river stone, so slick that it shined, almost like a pool of water in the moonlight.
    The rock moved. At least he thought it moved. He wasn’t sure. Maybe he was imagining it. Then it moved again. Less than an inch at a time, it crept toward him. He never knew anything could move so slowly.
    â€œStop!” he said in the meanest clatter he could muster from deep in his throat. “You come any closer and I’ll eat you.”
    The rock stopped. Nearer now, he could see itbetter. It lay completely motionless for a while. Finally, two clawed feet and a head popped out. They didn’t pop out from beneath the rock. They popped out from inside the rock. Right in the middle. Eyes wide, he leaned his head far to the side. That can’t be. Nothing lives inside a rock. Under a rock, yes. Beside a rock, yes. But not inside a rock. It just can’t be! Maybe I AM dead. Either that or the poison has made me crazy.
    The head reminded him a bit of the rattlesnake. But rattlesnakes don’t have feet. And there were no sharp ridges of scales over the eyes to give the head that evil look of a rattler. Then two more feet popped out from inside the back end of the rock. The head raised and two round eyes looked at him. “I thought you were dead,” the head said. “Figured I’d have to shove my way under you to get to my burrow. Then after a day or so, you’d start stinking so bad I’d have to leave.”
    â€œI’m not dead yet.”
    â€œYou should be. You got bit by a rattlesnake, didn’t you?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen how come you’re not dead?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œWell, since you’re not dead—move.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œMove. So I can get in my burrow.”
    â€œBurrow? What’s a burrow?”
    â€œIt’s where I live. That hole where you’ve got your tail feathers parked. Now scoot your hind end out of the way so I can get down where it’s cool and shady before the sun climbs to the sky.”
    The roadrunner looked one way, then stretched his neck to look the other. There was no hole. “What hole? I don’t see a hole.”
    â€œYou can’t see it, because you’re sitting on it. Move.”
    The strange rock was inching toward him again. He felt a chill race up his spine to his head crest. “Are you going to eat me?”
    The head drew back, part way into the rock. “Good grief, NO! That’s the nastiest thing I ever heard. I eat flowers and cactus and grass. Only heathens eat meat.”
    Cautiously the roadrunner leaned toward the strange rock. “What are you?”
    The head came farther out. “I’m Berland. I’m a gopher