Epic by Annie Auerbach Page A

Boggan.
    â€œI fly faster alone,” Nod replied. Carefree and sometimes reckless, Nod was all about having a good time.
    â€œHow do you not get this? You’re not the only one on this team, you know,” said Ronin.
    â€œSo? Yell at one of them for a change!” suggested Nod.
    Ronin lifted up his sword and blocked as the Boggan took a swipe at him. Then Ronin kicked the Boggan off the grackle, saving Nod . . . again.
    â€œYou know how important today is?” Ronin asked Nod. “Now get a bird and get back to Moonhaven or you’re done. I’m not coming after you again.”
    Nod folded his arms, still dangling from the grackle’s talons. “You know what? I’ll save you the trouble. I quit.”
    Ronin took off, leaving Nod to find his own way down.
    Meanwhile, seventeen-year-old Mary Katherine sat in the back of a cab. After years away, M.K. was not looking forward to her visit home to see her father. Eventually, the cab came to a stop in front of an old, dilapidated house.
    â€œThat’s not a house, that’s termites holding hands,” said the cab driver. After a moment, he quickly added, “No offense.”
    â€œDon’t worry, I’ll be fine,” said M.K., getting out of the cab.
    â€œCall if you need a quick getaway, kid,” said the driver and sped off.
    M.K. stared at the house in front of her. It was probably beautiful once , she thought. But now paint peeled like sunburned skin, the house numbers had fallen off, and the rain gutters were so full of dirt that weeds sprouted out of them. M.K. sighed deeply, walked to the front door, and knocked. When there was no response, she gently pushed the door open.
    If the outside of the house had been taken over by nature, the inside seemed to be taken over by a mad scientist with an affection for clutter. Every inch was crammed with scribbled notes, bell jars, scientific drawings, insect collections, and all kinds of homemade scientific gear.
    M.K. glimpsed a small display case filled with sharpened twigs and nutshell fragments. They sort of looked like arrows and armor.
    What on earth . . . ? she thought.
    Just then, Professor Bomba scurried past her, down the hall.
    â€œLet me see,” he muttered to himself, not seeing M.K. at all. “Made of polished acorn shell and thin leather.”
    M.K. followed him and found him at a microscope, placing something under it to view.
    â€œHi, Dad.”
    Bomba was startled. “Mary Katherine! You’re here.”
    â€œYeah,” she replied as he enveloped her in a big hug.
    â€œI didn’t realize today was today,” he said.
    M.K. grimaced. “It always is.”
    â€œBut here you are, so it must be,” continued Bomba. “Today, I mean. Makes sense.” He quickly changed the subject. “Let me look at you. You look just like your mother!”
    An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as each of them thought of M.K.’s mother, who had passed away.
    â€œThere actually are a few things I want to talk to you about,” M.K. started to say, but she was interrupted by a sudden bark .
    â€œOzzy! Look who’s back!” Bomba said to the pug that scampered in. With three legs and one eye, the dog had seen better days.
    M.K. was amazed. “Ozzy? He’s still alive?”
    Ozzy barked. Then sneezed. Then drooled.
    â€œWell, most of him,” replied Bomba. “He may be down to three legs, but he’ll make a break for it the first chance he gets.” He yelled into the dog’s ear. “Ozzy, go say hi!”
    â€œHere, boy,” M.K. called encouragingly.
    Ozzy ran straight . . . past her.
    Bomba shrugged. “His depth perception’s a little off, and he has a tendency to run in circles. But that was closer than usual. He remembers you!” He gestured for her to follow him up the stairs. “I have a little surprise for you.”
    Bomba opened a