The bridge has been completely destroyed.
The edges are charred. Whatever caused this, it couldn't have been floodwater or simple wear and tear.
I'll have to find some other way across. This gorge is too deep to cross, and the river too fierce.
The road continues on the other side. I really need to cross this gorge.
It's a short, mole-like creature. It looks pretty harmless.
The bridge is out. Damn!
Oh dear, oh dear me.
Please, human, don't kill me and skin me! I haven't even sung to the Soil yet.
Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you or skin you.
Your coat does look very nice and fluffy...
Oh dear me, you think so? But it's mine!
I'm not a poacher, so don't worry. I'm just kidding.
Oh my, I do not know if I enjoyed your jest. Humans have a strange sense of humor. You are human, are you not?
Oh my, that is good news, very good indeed. Who are you?
Sure I am.
My name's April. What's yours?
In my language it's Bandu-umanu-banta-au-rubana-biutan-binaort. It means "the little one who tries hard to live up to his father who sings to the Soil".
That's a mouthful. So, uh, what do I call you?
You can call me Ben-Bandu, the sad Little One. Banda is the name of my people. We are the Little Ones.
Aren't your people called the Mole-people?
That's what the city-dwellers and farmers call us. They say it with a sharp tongue. Moles. Dirt-diggers. They don't like us very much.
Our given name is Banda, the Little Ones, or the Banda-banta, "the Little Ones who sing to the Soil".
Why are you sad, Ben-Bandu?
I'm looking for my brother. He's been gone in the forest for many days, and I've not heard him sing to us. Our people don't walk about the forest much. It's too dangerous for us.
You haven't seen my brother, have you? He's short, about my height, with a tan coat and a mischievious glint in his eye.
You're the first mole-- The first Banda I've met.
Oh dear. I hope he's all right. A lot of our people have disappeared this summer.
What happened to the Banda that disappeared?
We don't really know, but there's something evil in this forest, something that doesn't like the Banda. I shouldn't be out here, looking, but I must find my brother.
If I see him, I'll let him know you're looking for him.
Oh thank you, thank you ever so much.
How do you sing to the soil?
When we're old enough, and we've found our voice, we just sing, and the earth shapes itself to our needs. We live in harmony with the earth, just like the birds do with the air.
Good luck on your search, Ben-Bandu, sad Little One.
And the best of luck to you, April. Please, if you see my brother, tell him to come home. We are all so very worried.
Hey Crow, would you mind doing me a favor?
I was having this t黎e-・t黎e with a pretty young sparrow, but hey, Crow at your service. Did you say favor? Sure thing...unless it's something extremely...no, make that, even remotely dangerous. I don't like dangerous.
Not at all. Just scout out the forest from your vantage point, see if you can find Ben-Bandu's brother.
Ben-who?
The Mole I just met. I thought you were supposed to be watching me. Didn't you pay attention?
No. Mole, you said? They are savages, the lot of them. Eat birds, even.
Crow, I eat birds. You probably do too.
Mmm, I love a roasted duckling in a tangy orange-- Oh, yeah, I see your point. Looking for a lost Mole then, are we?
Yeah, and they're called the Banda.
I never got into that whole PC thing. "It's not tyrocks, it's the Tyren. Don't say chicks, say birds. Don't say birds, say women". I dunno, it's all a little too complicated for a simple man of the air like myself.
Just go look for the lost Mo-- The lost Bandu, okay?
Yes, ma'am.
