Rexik, Trika and the Big Rain

A big black cloud rolled over Fern Valley. BOOM! went the thunder. And down came the rain, as if someone had turned a whole river upside down.

“Take cover!” called Rexik’s Dad. “I’ll build us a shelter. The strongest one in the valley!”

“Ha!” snorted Uncle Horn. “Mine will be better.”

And off they went. Dad dragged branches: crack, crack! Uncle Horn pulled up ferns: swish, swish! Both of them huffed and puffed and eyed each other sideways.

“Branches are strong!” roared Dad.

“Ferns are smart!” roared Uncle Horn.

And the thunder roared louder than both of them.

Rexik and Trika stood in the rain and waited. Drip, drip went their little noses. Rexik looked around. Beside the path lay a big, bumpy rock. It was greenish-brown and covered in knobbles, with a little yellow flower on top.

“Trika,” whispered Rexik, “that rock wasn’t here yesterday.”

“Rocks don’t walk, Mister Maybe-Not!” laughed Trika.

“Done!” Dad said proudly.

The branch shelter stood for one whole minute. And then, CRACK! It fell down right on Dad’s head.

“Aha!” cheered Uncle Horn, and he crawled under his ferns.

Swish… The ferns slid down over his horns like a soggy hat. And the water went splosh! right down the back of his neck.

The dads stood there, wet and grumpy.

“It’s all your branches' fault!”

“No, it’s your ferns!”

Rexik and Trika laughed so hard they had to sit down.

“Quick, under the rock!” shouted Trika, and she ran there first.

“Maybe we shouldn’t?” Rexik wasn’t sure. But the rain was trickling down his neck, so he dived in after her.

Under the bumpy edge it was dry. And warm. And… something was breathing.

“Trika,” whispered Rexik. “The rock is breathing. Can you hear it? Hrrr… hrrr…”

Just then the rock wiggled. It sighed. And out from under it peeked an old head with kind, sleepy eyes.

“Now who’s tickling me under my shell?” yawned Granny Anki.

“Granny Anki!” gasped Trika. “We thought you were a rock!”

“Oh, sometimes I think so too,” laughed Granny.

Ankylosauruses really do have armor on their backs, made of bony plates and hard as stone. Under armor like that, even a downpour isn’t scary.

Just then the dads came running up, wet down to the very last scale.

“My shelter was the strongest!” puffed Rexik’s Dad.

“The wrongest?” asked Granny Anki. “That’s true, sonny. I saw the whole thing. The wrongest, and the funniest too!”

“And mine was the best!” grumbled Uncle Horn.

“The wettest? You’re right about that, Horn. Nothing could be wetter!”

The little ones rolled about laughing. The dads looked at each other… and started laughing too. They couldn’t fit under the shell, so they just stood there in the rain. Wet, but not grumpy anymore.

When the rain stopped, Granny Anki slowly got up. A leaf fell off her back. It was dry as dry could be, the only dry leaf in the whole valley.

“Here, take it,” said Granny. “To remember the funniest shelter ever.”

That evening Rexik put the leaf on his little shelf, next to his stripy pebble and his feather.

“When I was your size,” Dad began, “I built a shelter as big as the whole valley…”

“I know, I know,” Mom smiled. “And it fell down.”

Rexik laughed, snuggled into his nest and closed his eyes. And the dry leaf on the shelf still smelled of Granny’s warm shell.