A story
Rimal the Fennec Fox Follows the Little Tracks in the Sand
Far away, in a wide golden desert, there lived a little fennec fox named Rimal. He had sandy fur, a black-tipped tail, and the biggest ears in the whole desert. His ears were so big that he could hear a beetle walking from the other side of a dune.
Rimal lived with his family in a cool burrow under a thorny acacia tree. They slept through the hot afternoons and came out to play in the cool early morning.
One morning, Rimal poked his nose out of the burrow and stopped. Something was different.
The wind had blown all night, and it had made the sand perfectly smooth, like a clean sheet of paper. But now, right in front of the burrow, there was a line of tiny marks. They were small and neat, two by two, with a thin wiggly line running between them.
"Mama," called Rimal, "someone walked past our door in the night!"
Mama Fox came up and sniffed the marks. "Those are tracks," she said. "Every animal leaves its own kind of footprints. If you look carefully, the sand will tell you who has been here."
Rimal's big ears stood straight up. "Can I follow them? Can I find out who it was?"
Mama looked at the sky. "You may follow them as far as the three big rocks," she said. "Then come straight back before the sun gets hot."
"I promise!" said Rimal, and off he went.
He followed the tiny tracks over a little hill of sand. Two by two, with a wiggly line between. The line went this way and that way, around a clump of dry grass, past a pebble, and then under a flat stone.
Rimal put his nose down by the stone. "Hello?" he said.
Out scuttled a small grey lizard with bright eyes and a long tail. Its tail made a wiggly line in the sand as it ran.
"Was it you who walked past my door last night?" asked Rimal.
"Not me," said the lizard. "My tracks have four feet and a tail. Look closer."
Rimal looked back at the tracks by the stone. The lizard was right. The lizard's tracks had four little feet, spread out wide. But the tracks Rimal had been following had only two feet, side by side, and they were deeper.
"Thank you," said Rimal. And he went back to the trail he had been following.
Just past the stone, the tracks changed. They were no longer two by two. Now there were long jumps between them. Hop. Gap. Hop. Gap. Hop.
"Somebody started jumping," Rimal said to himself.
He followed the jumps across a wide, flat stretch of sand. He heard a soft click-click-click and looked down. A shiny black beetle was walking past, leaving a trail of tiny dots behind it.
"Was it you?" asked Rimal.
The beetle stopped and waved its feelers. "Not me," it clicked. "My tracks are dots, like little stitches. Yours are hops. Keep looking."
Rimal kept looking. The hops went up the side of a dune. Rimal climbed after them. The sand slid under his paws, and he slipped back twice. But he dug in his claws and kept climbing until he reached the top.
From the top of the dune, he could see a long way. He could see the three big rocks in the distance, shining orange in the first sunlight. And he could see the hops, leading down the dune and toward the rocks.
Then he heard something with his big ears. It was a tiny, squeaky sound, very far away.
Eek. Eek. Eek.
Rimal tilted his head. The sound was coming from the three big rocks.
He ran down the dune, his black-tipped tail streaming behind him. He followed the hops all the way to the bottom of the first rock. And there, in a little hollow in the sand, sat a creature no bigger than a lemon.
It had a round body, long back legs like springs, tiny front paws, and a very long tail with a white tuft at the end. It was a baby jerboa. And it was shivering.
"Eek," it said, looking up at Rimal with huge dark eyes.
Rimal crouched down low, so he would not look too big. He made his voice soft and gentle. "Hello," he said. "Was it you who hopped past my door last night?"
The baby jerboa nodded. "I came out to see the stars," it squeaked. "I walked and walked. Then I started hopping, because hopping is faster. But I hopped too far, and now I don't know the way home."
Rimal looked at the tracks in the sand. He looked back at the long trail he had followed, over the dune, past the beetle, past the lizard's stone, all the way from his own front door.
"I think I can help," he said. "Where is your home?"
"Under a bush with little yellow flowers," said the jerboa. "My mama will be so worried."
Rimal thought. Was there a bush with yellow flowers near the trail? Then he remembered. At the very beginning, near his own burrow, the tracks had started beside a small bush. He was almost sure it had tiny yellow flowers.
"Climb on my back," said Rimal. "And hold on to my fur."
The baby jerboa climbed up and held on tight. Rimal walked carefully back along the trail. Back up the dune, past the beetle's dotted line, past the lizard's flat stone, and over the little hill.
And there, just beside the acacia tree, was a small round bush covered in tiny yellow flowers. A mother jerboa was standing in front of it, looking left and right, her long ears twitching.
"Mama!" squeaked the baby. It sprang off Rimal's back in one big hop and landed right beside her.
The mother jerboa wrapped her little paws around her baby. Then she looked up at Rimal. "Thank you," she said. "How did you ever find my little one?"
Rimal smiled. "I just followed the story in the sand."
When Rimal came home, the sun was rising high and warm. Mama Fox was waiting at the burrow.
"Well?" she asked. "Did you find out who walked past our door?"
"I did," said Rimal. "It was a new friend."
The next morning, when Rimal poked his nose out of the burrow, there were tiny tracks in the sand again. But this time, they led right up to his door. And sitting there, holding a little yellow flower, was the baby jerboa, waiting to play.
Rimal lived with his family in a cool burrow under a thorny acacia tree. They slept through the hot afternoons and came out to play in the cool early morning.
One morning, Rimal poked his nose out of the burrow and stopped. Something was different.
The wind had blown all night, and it had made the sand perfectly smooth, like a clean sheet of paper. But now, right in front of the burrow, there was a line of tiny marks. They were small and neat, two by two, with a thin wiggly line running between them.
"Mama," called Rimal, "someone walked past our door in the night!"
Mama Fox came up and sniffed the marks. "Those are tracks," she said. "Every animal leaves its own kind of footprints. If you look carefully, the sand will tell you who has been here."
Rimal's big ears stood straight up. "Can I follow them? Can I find out who it was?"
Mama looked at the sky. "You may follow them as far as the three big rocks," she said. "Then come straight back before the sun gets hot."
"I promise!" said Rimal, and off he went.
He followed the tiny tracks over a little hill of sand. Two by two, with a wiggly line between. The line went this way and that way, around a clump of dry grass, past a pebble, and then under a flat stone.
Rimal put his nose down by the stone. "Hello?" he said.
Out scuttled a small grey lizard with bright eyes and a long tail. Its tail made a wiggly line in the sand as it ran.
"Was it you who walked past my door last night?" asked Rimal.
"Not me," said the lizard. "My tracks have four feet and a tail. Look closer."
Rimal looked back at the tracks by the stone. The lizard was right. The lizard's tracks had four little feet, spread out wide. But the tracks Rimal had been following had only two feet, side by side, and they were deeper.
"Thank you," said Rimal. And he went back to the trail he had been following.
Just past the stone, the tracks changed. They were no longer two by two. Now there were long jumps between them. Hop. Gap. Hop. Gap. Hop.
"Somebody started jumping," Rimal said to himself.
He followed the jumps across a wide, flat stretch of sand. He heard a soft click-click-click and looked down. A shiny black beetle was walking past, leaving a trail of tiny dots behind it.
"Was it you?" asked Rimal.
The beetle stopped and waved its feelers. "Not me," it clicked. "My tracks are dots, like little stitches. Yours are hops. Keep looking."
Rimal kept looking. The hops went up the side of a dune. Rimal climbed after them. The sand slid under his paws, and he slipped back twice. But he dug in his claws and kept climbing until he reached the top.
From the top of the dune, he could see a long way. He could see the three big rocks in the distance, shining orange in the first sunlight. And he could see the hops, leading down the dune and toward the rocks.
Then he heard something with his big ears. It was a tiny, squeaky sound, very far away.
Eek. Eek. Eek.
Rimal tilted his head. The sound was coming from the three big rocks.
He ran down the dune, his black-tipped tail streaming behind him. He followed the hops all the way to the bottom of the first rock. And there, in a little hollow in the sand, sat a creature no bigger than a lemon.
It had a round body, long back legs like springs, tiny front paws, and a very long tail with a white tuft at the end. It was a baby jerboa. And it was shivering.
"Eek," it said, looking up at Rimal with huge dark eyes.
Rimal crouched down low, so he would not look too big. He made his voice soft and gentle. "Hello," he said. "Was it you who hopped past my door last night?"
The baby jerboa nodded. "I came out to see the stars," it squeaked. "I walked and walked. Then I started hopping, because hopping is faster. But I hopped too far, and now I don't know the way home."
Rimal looked at the tracks in the sand. He looked back at the long trail he had followed, over the dune, past the beetle, past the lizard's stone, all the way from his own front door.
"I think I can help," he said. "Where is your home?"
"Under a bush with little yellow flowers," said the jerboa. "My mama will be so worried."
Rimal thought. Was there a bush with yellow flowers near the trail? Then he remembered. At the very beginning, near his own burrow, the tracks had started beside a small bush. He was almost sure it had tiny yellow flowers.
"Climb on my back," said Rimal. "And hold on to my fur."
The baby jerboa climbed up and held on tight. Rimal walked carefully back along the trail. Back up the dune, past the beetle's dotted line, past the lizard's flat stone, and over the little hill.
And there, just beside the acacia tree, was a small round bush covered in tiny yellow flowers. A mother jerboa was standing in front of it, looking left and right, her long ears twitching.
"Mama!" squeaked the baby. It sprang off Rimal's back in one big hop and landed right beside her.
The mother jerboa wrapped her little paws around her baby. Then she looked up at Rimal. "Thank you," she said. "How did you ever find my little one?"
Rimal smiled. "I just followed the story in the sand."
When Rimal came home, the sun was rising high and warm. Mama Fox was waiting at the burrow.
"Well?" she asked. "Did you find out who walked past our door?"
"I did," said Rimal. "It was a new friend."
The next morning, when Rimal poked his nose out of the burrow, there were tiny tracks in the sand again. But this time, they led right up to his door. And sitting there, holding a little yellow flower, was the baby jerboa, waiting to play.
