The Queensland Mangrove

The Luthier

Pleoni gathered the ukelele and the case and carefully strapped the damaged instrument onto his chest. It was almost too small for him now, but with restoration, it would still be workable. Workable instruments among the colony were a rarity. This one had been a gift by the elders of his colony to him. Pleoni had been the only one in his generation of nearly fifty pups to exhibit any level of musical ability.

Climbing around the edge to the entrance, he paused and looked down towards the hollow containing the pup. He should bury it. He climbed down to the small hollow and gently pulled it out of its resting place. Tucking it to his chest between the instrument and his body, he climbed out and flew low over the forest floor. Finding a patch of soft mud, he landed and started to dig. It was quick going, and he could have easily had a big enough hole dug in a matter of minutes. But he kept on digging until it was the normal depth of a foot.

Carefully, he laid the charred skeleton of the pup to rest. He sat there silently and watched over the pup's remains for several moments. There was a funeral song among his colony, but he didn't know the words. Carefully, he took his ukelele out of the case and strummed a few simple chords as best he could with the remaining two strings. He then carefully placed the instrument back into the case and filled in the hole. Finding a soft piece of fallen bark, he etched a simple phrase into the back with his claws and pressed it into the soft ground above the grave. It read "The stars cannot shine without darkness."

Pleoni quietly bowed his head in respect one last time, before flying off low over the rainforest. He was unsure where he'd go from here. He knew one thing, though: quite soon, he'd have to make the trip to the luthier. There was only one of those in all of Australia or New Zealand, and he resided in New South Wales somewhere near Wagga Wagga. Pleoni had never been there, but his elders had once told him how to find the luthier, should he ever need one.

Heading back to where he'd stashed his other supplies, he gathered his small traveling sack. Glancing up, he realized it was almost daylight. He should sleep first. This would be the only night he was likely to get in the true coastal rainforest. He decided to spend the night in the former nursery, due to the safety of the hollow. Dragging his stuff through the narrow entrance, he stuffed it on the top ledge and proceeded to hang in one of the smaller hollows.

The next evening, he strapped his bags and took off, heading south. He quickly left the tropical coastal rainforest behind, venturing into the subtropical rainforest. He knew within a night or two that he'd leave this behind as well, and would be in the temperate forests of New South Wales. He did not look forward to that.

Two nights later, Pleoni reached the point where he needed to go inland. He followed a series of trees, marked by little lutes woven in the upper branches. To stop the humans from finding their stashes and tradesmen, the bats of Australia had developed an alliance with the spiders. They would regularly bring the spiders news from afar, and the spiders in turn wove subtle little icons used for the bats to navigate. When viewed from above with echolocation, symbols, such as the lute, became visible. The symbols would lead him all the way from the coast to the front door of the luthier.

A night and a half's flight later, with two breaks to eat, Pleoni arrived at the front door of the luthier. Landing wearily, he rapped with his knuckles on the entrance to the bat house.

A grizzled old female whose species Pleoni could not determine stuck out her face, chittering ultrasonicly, though hoarsely, to see him properly. Her vision must have failed long ago. She motioned for him to enter.

He did, removing his precious cargo. She took it from him with her long claws, inspecting the case thoroughly before opening it to inspect the contents.

"Been through quite a fall, hasn't it," she muttered, turning away. "Seen some fire, too, I'd reckon." Her accent was faintly English.

She traced her claws along the cracked neck of the instrument, and touched where the missing peg would have been. She inspected the strings, muttering about their type and size.

Finally, she turned to him. "It can be done," she told him. "It's going to take at least a week, however, and will not come cheap." She nodded towards his sack. "Do you have a tribal?"

Pleoni knew what she meant: a tribal token, indicating his colony. However, he did not have one. He shook his head, pulling out a soft piece of bark from his sack and etching a small mangrove with the initials "QLD" beneath it. He held it up in his claws for her to see. She let out a sound burst, and nodded.

"The fire damage makes much more sense now," she rasped.

He tilted his head.

"Oh, I know about the fire," she acknowledged. "It's been many years since I've heard even rumors of a survivor, however." she nodded towards a corner with a small stack of fruit. "Have a snack," she told him. "If you wish to stay while I do the repairs, you may. I ask that you do the cleaning and food gathering, nothing more."

Pleoni nodded, though he didn't feel hungry. As the luthier scuttled over to her workstation to begin the repairs, he found a broom in the corner and began to sweep.