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strength out here."
    He choked it down as fast as he could, then popped a date into his mouth. It was sticky and sweet, almost like a piece of toffee. When Aunt Phil wasn't looking, Nate slipped Greasle two dates, then shooed her away to hide behind his rucksack. He wasn't sure how Aunt Phil would feel about sharing food with the gremlin.
    Almost as if reading his mind, Aunt Phil looked up. "Where is that pest of yours?" she asked, glancing around the tent.
    "Oh, she's already asleep in my rucksack," Nate said. Wanting desperately to change the subject, he asked, "What exactly are we going to do with the phoenix?"
    "Well, let's check, shall we?" Aunt Phil turned to one of
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    her saddlebags. She pulled from it a large, very old-looking book and held it up for Nate to see. "The Book of Beasts," she announced. "The only copy in existence, and so sacred to us Fludds that I would protect the book with my life."
    Nate hoped it wouldn't come to that. "Do you have a copy of The Geographica, too?"
    "No." Aunt Phil's face grew sad. "Your father had the only surviving copy of that book. I'm afraid it was lost at sea with him." They were both silent for a moment, and then Aunt Phil began to read from the book.
    "As the sun sets on the phoenix's five hundredth birthday, it returns to its
    place of birth and builds a funeral pyre, Amid the rays of the setting sun, it sets
    itself on fire, burning until it is reduced to a pile of ash,
    The secret to a phoenix hatching is to be sure the pile of ash never grows cold,"
    "How do we do that?" Nate asked. Aunt Phil continued reading:
    "The nest must be protected from the wind, It is also wise to feed additional fuel to the glowing ash, especially during the cold desert nights,"
    Aunt Phil stopped reading and looked at Nate.
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    "Is that it?"
    "That's it."
    "Well," he said with a smile, "that doesn't sound too hard."
    "Of course not," Aunt Phil agreed. "I told you there was nothing to worry about. Good night, Nate."
    Aunt Phil snuggled down and was asleep within moments. But when Nate lay down, his mind kept churning through the events of the past three days. Plus, it was too light out to go to sleep. Which gave Nate an idea.
    Moving quietly so as not to wake Aunt Phil, he pulled his rucksack closer. He reached inside and got out his sketchbook. Glancing over his shoulder, he angled the paper away from Aunt Phil and began to draw. As his pencil flew across the page, his mind began to sort through all that had happened.
    He decided he liked Aunt Phil. Except for her unreasonable dislike of gremlins, she was very nice. Even better, she told him stuff. Important stuff that no other grownup had ever taken the time to tell him before. She also didn't leave him behind, no matter how lacking he was in Fludd skills.
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    "Whatcha doin'?"
    Nate jerked in surprise at Greasle's voice next to his ear. "Drawing," he whispered, closing the book. "I wanna see," Greasle said. "Shh! You'll wake Aunt Phil."
    Greasle tugged on the book. "But I wanna see," she whined.
    [Image: Greasle.]
    "Oh, all right." Nate opened to the page on which he'd been drawing. Greasle pointed to the picture he'd drawn of her. "What's that?"
    "You," he said. She tilted her head and studied the page. "Is that what I look like?" He glanced down at the drawing. "Yep."
    "Pretty, aren't I?" Nate looked at her
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    big, round eyes, her batlike ears, and her sharp little teeth. "Quite pretty," he said, trying not to smile.
    "And what's that?" she asked, pointing to the facing page.
    "A map," Nate whispered, closing the book. He didn't want Aunt Phil to know he'd tried his hand at mapmaking. He wasn't very good at it.
    "It's not as pretty as the picture of me," Greasle pointed out.
    "No, it's not," Nate agreed. He put the sketchbook aside. "Now let's get some sleep."
    ***
    Nate was awakened by the most beautiful music he had ever heard. The notes were pure and lovely, but haunting as well, as if sadness might be just around the corner. He pushed