Dale inhaled deeply and strained to push the large paperweights above his chest. He continued breathing deeply and held them up for nearly one minute. Then, with a deep sigh, he set them back on their rack, having enough a workout for today. He got off the bench and wiped the sweat from his face. Leaving the gym, he padded out the door, and clawed around the tree for several laps. Then, he entered the hangar and padded toward the tire that slid down to the main room. He was about to slide down, but then decided to try something new and climb down the underside of it. Again, it was a bit of a strain, but it kept his claws in shape. He jumped off the final curve and saw Chip standing in front of him.

“You know, Chip, maybe Gadget should install rubber pads on the walls of the gym. That way we can all work on our climbin' skills, and maybe Gadget and Monty can become perfect tree climbers like us.” Chip lowered his ears was about to bonk him for that stupid remark, but then he suddenly realised that the remark was not stupid, and it was not even a remark, but a very well established and serious suggestion that would be for the benefit of the team.

“Uh, sure, Dale, I'll tell her that,” he replied, raising his ears again and withdrawing his fist.

“Monty isn't in the bathroom, is he?”

“No, no. It's all yours.” With a nod, the chipmunk with the yellow headband and tank top, white wristbands, and orange shorts, left the living room. Chip, arms crossed, looked at him leave and simply could not believe it. Three weeks had passed since that tragic night, and Dale had apparently recovered, though he still would not go into the new room. Instead, he recommended that it be made into a storage/guest room since he would not be needing it anymore. Other than that, he refused to pad past Gadget's workshop. But still, he had already read half of his Sureluck Jones novels, and when he wasn't doing that or solving cases, he was at the gym, either pumping iron or practising his fencing. Now, his shoulders were widening, and muscles were beginning to show through his fur, and even where they weren't, due to the fat layer all sciurids have for hibernating, it was fairly obvious that he was getting more and more solid. Furthermore, he had not said one single stupid comment since that night, and it appeared that Chip was actually waiting for him to do so in order to bonk him. But no, Dale kept his comments short and serious. And only serious. In fact, that was all he said now: serious things. He didn't tell jokes anymore, not even when they were resting from cases or even on their way to or back from them. Dale did not even *laugh* anymore.

Hastahah.

The announcement of his new name was practically the last straw for Chip. Not only had Dale rejected his original personality, but also his original name, and had even imposed on himself a hauntingly new identity, one completely opposite of what his parents intended.

“Dale Hastahah Oakmont”.

No, there was no way Chip, or any of the others, were going to get used to his new name.

But it was obvious that the name was imposing itself on Dale. His countenance was slowly etching itself away from his ever-present smile to Sureluck's cold stone-face. His tail had not quivered at all these past two weeks, even when they were on their way to what seemed like an exciting case. Furthermore, all of Dale's Hawaiian shirts, bermudas, and night shirts were packed away too, and he only wore grey now, and it seemed that Dale was becoming more and more like his father, Pierre. The television had also remained dark and silent for three weeks now, and Chip felt surprised at how little TV he and the others actually watched: news programs and an occasional documentary. But originally, it had been Dale who had most kept the TV company. And now, no movies or cartoons flickered in the small screen. What was unnerving, however, was that Foxglove's short-wave radio was also silent now.

But still, Dale now kept his part of the room clean and in order, he did his chores without questioning, and he even helped Monterey cook and Gadget with her inventions! He even helped Zipper in his stealth and data retrieval abilities, and he was learning a few tricks of stealth and leverage as well. It appeared that this whole incident had transformed Dale into a serious fightmaster/body-builder/cook/mechanic/stealth expert/detective/Rescue Ranger. The Slob and the Clown were gone forever. But wasn't that what he wanted? For Dale to just stop fooling around and get serious when the time called for seriousness?

“Be careful of what you wish for, you just might get it.”

*Yes, but I never asked him to kill himself!*

And also Dale was proving himself to be just as intelligent as the others as well. It was amazing how quickly he learned when he *wanted* to learn. He could cook by himself, he could repair the vehicles with little assistance from Gadget now, and he could recite several passages from his novels, as good as he originally did with his comic books:

Then everyone noticed that the occasional candy Monterey brought home was piling up. Dale did not eat candy anymore.

The drop that overflowed, however, was three days ago. Gadget came home with an UNWRAPPED candy bar: Hershey's Milk Chocolate With Almonds.

“Hey, Dale, I've got you something!” Dale looked up from the novel he was reading on the couch, and for one instant, his eyes glazed over at the sight of GADGET holding a GIANT bar of CHOCOLATE. Inhaling deeply, he slowly stood, very obviously trying to control his powerful reflex. Padding slowly towards her, he continued breathing deeply, letting the delicious aroma of chocolate, almonds, and Gadget's scent saturate his olfactory bulb. Finally, he came up to her, laid his ears back, held his tail still, looked at her eyes, and said, stone faced,

“Ummm, thanks, Gadget, I'mmmmm-glad you brought this for mmmmmme-but--nnnnnnnno thanks. I-I really can't eat this right now. But why donnnnn't you share it with Chip? I donnnnnn't mmmmmind, realllllllyyyyyyy-” Everyone's jaw went slack again at Dale's response. *Politely* refusing a CANDY BAR brought by GADGET??!! No one had ever thought that feat was possible. Dale had rejected CHOCOLATE!! True, he drank chocolate once in a while, but rejecting a *complete and unwrapped* candy bar was totally unheard of. Dale then padded back to the couch, sat down, turned to her again and said,

“But thanks again, Gadget,” and continued reading.

In all, Dale was well into his all-too-shocking self-improvement plan, one that would probably have never happened if it wasn't for Fat Cat, their best incentive for self-improvement plans. And the bottom line was that Dale was helping the team and they all could solve cases more efficiently now:

Then there was that recent case.

Two afternoons ago, when they were in the supermarket, a small male rat came up to them and told them that his fruit cachÈs were mysteriously running low. They all went to investigate, and in the rat's home, which was within the wall next to the produce section, they searched for clues. The cachÈs were lined up against the wall; they were mostly fruits with an occasional lettuce leaf. Dale then immediately sniffed something other than fruit, and they all saw some hairs on the floor. Chip then pondered on what kind of small mammals-

“Gerbils,” said Dale, “*Four* of them.”

Chip, ever so surprised, had no objection, as no large animal could enter the rat's home. It could have been lizards, but lizards don't have fur. How Dale smelled the gerbils and established their number so quickly was beyond him. True, Dale had a keen sense of smell (which came handy back in New Zealand) but now it seemed that this particular talent of his had been modified *ten-fold*. Maybe it was because he didn't focus on smelling chocolate anymore. Searching for hidden entrances, the Rangers split up. Here, Foxglove would have been of enormous help, for she could have detected hidden cracks within the dark passages. Finding none, however, the Rangers decided to stay with the rat and hide themselves among the fruit, to see if the gerbils would come back. All were sleepy that night, except Dale, for some reason. At around 11 p.m., Dale sensed that the fruit was shifting. He quickly awakened the others and told them to be quiet. Then, they all heard it.

“Blimey!” whispered Monterey. “Them blokes are stealin' the fruit right from under us!!” Chip then ordered,

“Monty, shove all-!” Dale was way ahead of them, however. One-half second earlier, he shoved aside all the fruits and saw a crack on the plank that was under the fruit. He and Monterey then pried the wood up and cracked open the entrance of a short tunnel that lead to an alley. Chip, Gadget, and Zipper immediately jumped down when they heard foot-paws running away from the scene. Monterey and Dale followed, and the rat was last. The gerbils had a good head start and were already halfway out of the alley when the Rangers left the tunnel. They all ran after them, but much to everyone's surprise, Dale ran faster than all of them and was beginning to catch up to the gerbils.

There *were* four of them indeed, one of which was brought down thanks to Gadget's plunger harpoon, sending pears rolling all over the sidewalk. The others, except for one, were carrying more pears and apples and were now running faster when they saw their comrade fall. Dale was about ten centimetres away from that particular one, when suddenly that gerbil whirled around, lowered his ears, and swung an exacto blade at him with his left paw. Dale stopped immediately and threw his abdomen back, dodging the swing. And before the gerbil could take another swing at him, Dale kicked the blade off his paw. Infuriated, the gerbil threw a punch at Dale with his other paw. This time, Dale blocked the punch with his left arm, and then threw the hardest right hook he had ever thrown, at the gerbil's face. If it had been an uppercut, the gerbil would probably have been knocked right off his foot-paws, but instead, he staggered back a full metre and spat out a few teeth. Dale calmly padded up to him, laid his ears back, grabbed him by his shirt, and began giving him a series of right hooks. After three of them, the gerbil was quite clearly unconscious and would have flopped down on the sidewalk, but Dale still held him and continued with his punches. He would have continued to do so indefinitely, but fortunately for the gerbil Chip ran up to Dale and held back his arm-

Dale had his ears down and his tail was as stiff as a board, and his countenance was one of total rage, matched only by the expression he had in Fat Cat's lair that other night.

For one instant, Chip thought he was looking at Pierre, not Dale. He laid his ears back,

“Dale, stop it!! He's out cold! You caught him! He's not going anywhere, so just let go of him!!!” Dale blinked momentarily; the rage in his eyes gradually subsiding. Taking deep breaths, he lowered the unconscious gerbil to the sidewalk and released the mangled shirt. He then began shaking his right paw.

“Boy oh boy, I didn't know gerbils had such hard faces!!” he said.

Or, that was what Chip expected him to say.

*C'mon, say it, say it!!* he thought. But instead, Dale raised his ears and said,

“Ouch, sorry, Chip, I guess I got carried away. But don't worry, I won't watch boxin' movies anymore.” With that they dragged the mauled gerbil back to the rat's home.

But Chip knew that what he saw had nothing to do with Rocky Balboa, or *any* movies whatsoever:

Monterey and Zipper, meanwhile, had run/flown in the opposite direction around the market and met the last two gerbils head-on, and with one swift punch, Monterey knocked one out. Zipper, seeing that the last one was overloaded with apples, simply tripped him, allowing Monterey to nail the gerbil's face on the sidewalk with his elbow. He then carried them back to the market, while Zipper escorted Gadget, who had already tied up the first one. There, they waited for the local small mammal authorities to pick up the crooks, and went home. That was a simple case, but it was done well. Very well.

*It would have been great if Dale had not been so aggressive. At most, he only needed two punches to knock out that gerbil!*

And again, flying on the Ranger Wing on their way home, everyone had their ears up,

“Well, guys, another case solved. Don't you just love this job?”

“It's tough, Chip, but I love it, right, Monty?”

“You bet, Zip, there's nothin' like the satisfaction of a job well done.”

“And we solved it in one day, too! I didn't think we'd be able to work so quickly without Fox-oops, sorry, Dale.”

“Forget it, Gadget, I already put that behind me. And I'm glad this case was solved quickly, too.” A short, serious comment, which caused some ears to droop. Dale did not smile, as the others usually do when coming home from wrapping up a case. He had not smiled at all lately. Chip also saw that Dale turned and looked at the sky several times, as if he were looking for something, or someone. And almost as quickly as he turned to look, he turned away. Perhaps he was trying to break another old habit. But he did not smile. And at times he would have a distant look in his eyes. Maybe it was that grey shirt he wore now:

But he had to admit, there were no foul-ups whatsoever. The case had been solved smoothly through perfect teamwork.

*Then why do I feel like I'm working with a stranger?*

“Penny for your thoughts?” Chip turned to his right and looked at the most beautiful mousemaid in the world for a moment, laid his ears back, lowered his tail, and then replied,

“Gadget, did Dale scare you two days ago?” Gadget looked into his eyes and replied with a worried tone, ears, and tail,

“Yes, he did. And I don't know if all of this is making him a better detective.”

“It has made him a stick-in-the-mud, that's what it's done.”

“What?” Chip looked at the hallway again,

“Gadget, ever since Foxglove left, have you heard Dale tell a joke, *any* joke?” The inventor scanned her memory for a moment, and then replied,

“Oh, golly, Chip, now that you mention it, uh, no, no I haven't.”

“Have you heard him laugh, jest, or even chuckle or snort, or even seen him wag his tail lately?” Gadget's face and ears showed more worry as her memory turned up nil for each of the above categories.

“This isn't healthy, is it?”

“I don't know. Dale is clean now, he does exercise, he helps around more, he's getting smarter, he *really* is becoming a better detective.”

“And all he had to do was kill the Comedian and the Clown and the Goof-up. Kill Segoleh.” She, too, was shocked at his name change.

“Gadget, I don't know what to do about this. Yes, the team has got better because of him, but-but-I'm wondering if I wouldn't mind trading that for the old Dale.”

“Even with his goof-ups and getting us into more trouble than necessary?” Chip shook his head and stiffened his features,

“I'm just saying that there *had* to be another way to deal with this. Maybe he didn't have to kill the Clown. Maybe-ooooh, there HAD to be another way!! But I can't think of any other alternatives!”

“He did what he had to do. Chip, I miss the Comedian, too, but it was Dale's decision. And he's still your best friend.” Waving his paws in frustration, Chip replied,

“Gadget, my best friend just lost nine-tenths of his personality. It's almost as if I don't know him anymore. It's as if Dale had died and now another chipmunk is sleeping on the top bunk now! Maybe-if he had just pushed back the Comedian, just *pushed* him back, not killed him-if he had done that, maybe this wouldn't be eating at me so much.” Gadget was more or less aware of what Chip was going through, after all, Segoleh was dead and Hastahah had taken his place so another tamias was *definitely* sleeping on the top bunk now and that was a situation which was somewhat similar for her when her father died and later on Monterey came along to more or less take his place but of course it wasn't *exactly* what was happening here because it was all in Dale's head more or less and who more than anyone would miss Segoleh more than *him* because *she* most certainly knew what it was like to lose part of *oneself* but Dale would most probably have an even harder time because *he* killed *himself*, basically, unlike what happened to her-

Carefully, she took hold of Chip's right arm with both of her paws.

“Chip, I'm sorry for you, but can you imagine what Dale is going through? He needs us, and maybe if we give him support, the Comedian will come back, maybe just a little.” If this had happened under different circumstances, Chip's heart would be beating right out of his chest. So right now, even Gadget was surprised to see that no reaction came from Chip from her advances. He simply looked at the hallway and replied,

“You're right, Gadget, but the thing that's eating me most right now is the fact that he doesn't laugh anymore. Comedians aren't the only ones who laugh. Everyone, not just comedians, laughs at one point or another, everyone except-”

“The clinically depressed?” she asked, tilting her head, almost reading his mind. “You *really* don't think that Dale is going clinically depressed, do you? He's just serious all the time now, he doesn't look depressed anymore.” Chip ruffled his head fur for a moment, relaxed his tail, and sighed,

“Maybe you're right. Maybe it's just me waiting for him to say something stupid so I can bonk him. I haven't bonked him since he came home that day! But still, I can't help but feel worried about him.” With that, he slipped out of Gadget's hold (to her surprise, again), turned on the TV, and stepped on the remote control as he searched for a particular program. Gadget wondered if the problem was with *him* at this point. Why didn't he respond to her now?

“Chip, what are you doing?”

“I'm looking for a decent sitcom.”

“A *sitcom*? Why?” Finding none in this particular time slot, Chip turned off the TV and fell back on the couch, still with low ears. He looked up to her, and replied,

“Because every once in a while, I feel the strangest need to *laugh* at something, to laugh at *anything*-” Chip's voice faded as he turned again and stared at the black screen. Gadget sat beside him and leaned against him. Chip, again, did not respond in any way:

That afternoon, the Rangers had finished lunch and Dale was cleaning the table when they heard a knock at the door.

“I'll get it!” said Monterey, coming out of the kitchen.

“That's all right, Monty,” said Dale, already on his way to the door. “I'll see who it is.”

Dale padded up and opened the do-

“DALE, DARLING!!!!”

And a gorgeous female chipmunk embraced him tightly and kissed him square on the:

OKTO - ALONE (UGH) AGAIN

A gorgeous male chipmunk embraced her tightly and kissed her square on the lips. Without thinking, she lowered her ears and twitched her tail, returned the hug and the kiss, and then they-

This was it.

The wonderful moment she had waited for since the day she detected him, the ultimate experience with her life partner, the beautiful consummation of their love for each other, and perhaps they would get a new son or daughter, or both, in the process, and they would do this only with each other, and no one else, for the rest of their lives-

Foxglove awoke with a start.

*If I dream that dream ONE MORE TIME, I'm going to get a _hypnotist_ and have him ERASE Dale from my head!!* She tried to catch her breath, amazed at the fact that sleeping could leave her exhausted. *This wouldn't be so bad if I'd _at least_ dream the whole thing through and not wake up right in the middle of it!* Also, the dream had awakened her at least one hour before sunset, so she really had not much to do except try to go back to sleep, but that would be somewhat difficult since she was still shaken up due to the theme of the dream. And she couldn't talk to anyone because Otis was not with her anymore.

Alone:

Their trip to Queens and Harlem was fruitless, and additional leads brought them to New Jersey, and then back to New York and Long Island, and then to the banks of the Hudson River. She roosted under an awning in an old factory, a little ways from where a male bat told them he had lost his daughter, last year, unfortunately. Five nights into their search, Otis got more and more suspicious as to why Foxglove did not fly back to the park to report her findings to the other Rangers.

“Otis, the others probably haven't got back yet, either,” she told him. “We still have plenty of time before we have to return.”

“Foxy, we have been flying around in a circle and have nearly gone all the way around the park. You have a sad look on your face, and sometimes I hear you say 'Oh, Dale, don't leave me' in your sleep. You *are* going to fly back to the park, aren't you?” Foxglove did not reply and continued flying toward the river. “Foxglove?” Suddenly turning to him, she asked,

“Otis, do *you* have a missing sister?” Taken back by this sudden interrogation, Otis stuttered,

“Uh, well, no, my parents never told me anything about that-”

“Do your parents know *any* bat who lost a daughter?”

“Well, I *would* ask them, but right now they're in Texas. Foxglove-”

“Do *you* know anyone who lost a daughter or sister?” Otis did not understand why Foxglove was so agitated.

“N-no, Foxglove, I don't. Look, I know you're desperate to find *any* family, but ever since I read your story in the papers I *knew* you couldn't be my sister. My family never lost anyone, so I doubt we're even distant cousins. But please, try to calm down. We'll find your relatives and then you can go back to Dale-”

“OTIS!!” She practically squealed in his ear, for after realising that he was definitely *not* her relative, she unconsciously drifted closer and closer to his face, spellbound by his deep voice/sonar. Upon hearing Dale's name, the spell was broken. Hovering in front of each other, Otis tried to shake off the ringing in his ear, while Foxglove tried to catch her breath.

“Foxy, what's wrong?” Foxglove could not hold herself back any longer. Her ears drooped, and she whimpered,

“Otis, Dale and I broke up. I quit the Rescue Rangers and the only thing I have left to do is try to find my family. I was hoping you would be my brother so I would-calm down-but-but-I'm sorry I yelled at you.” The male verspetilionid looked at her with pity.

“Oh, well, I'm sorry, Foxglove. Is that why you didn't want to talk to the other guys?”

“Yes.” Suddenly suspicious of something else, he asked,

“Then why did you decide to talk to *me*?”

“I-I don't know-you-you're nice-and-and-han--our friend-I had hoped you would be my relative-but-I-I-”

“Foxglove, I'm sorry. You obviously need some time to recover, but why did you and Dale break up?”

“He-he let me go. He didn't want me to be in danger anymore. He-asked me to live with the bats now.” Otis finally realised the extent of the situation he was in.

“Uh, look, Foxy, if that is what happened to you, then you're probably very vulnerable right now, and I'm obviously not supposed to be hanging around you alone like this, but it's also obvious that you need someone to talk to. Why-why don't you stay here and rest for a while, and I'll see what I can do? I'll bring back more help, I promise.” With that, Otis flew away, to his relief, and hers, too, surprisingly. Now, Foxglove had been alone for three days and it was obvious that nothing else was going to happen here. The bat that lived here, however, did say that a cousin of his lost a daughter almost two decades back, *in a park*, and that she lived somewhere in Boston. That was a long trip from New York, but this was her quest now, and she would have to carry it out until she found her parents, living or dead.

And now, she would have to carry it out-

Alone:

ENNEA - OLD FLAME, NEW FUEL

:square on the right cheek. Dale, shocked, needed only one second to realise who had decided to pay a visit. He looked at her face. The chipmunkmaid had tan fur, with lighter tones on her face and neck, a maroon nose, and beautiful lavender eyes. To accentuate her eyes, she wore a long blue dress that was cut to reveal her right leg. Her ears and tail clearly communicated how happy she was to see him. Dale asked,

“Clarice?”

“Dale, you old dawg, you've been pumping up!! And I'm surprised you still remember me, considering your *new* marital status!”

“Huh?” The other Rangers padded up at this point.

“'Ey, pally, who's yore friend?” asked Monterey. Clarice released Dale while he turned and said,

“Guys, this is Clarice Tamiassara. Chip and me met her several years ago when we still lived in the forest. She was our 'first crush', you might say. She worked at a night-club, the 'Club Acorn', but moved on, and so did we.” But as Dale said this, no smile appeared in his face, and his ears and tail remained stationary. True, he was surprised to be visited by an old friend, and even glad at this point, but the only emotion in his face was that of surprise. Chip was surprised at both Dale's lack of emotion *and* this unexpected visit, but before he could even begin to ponder on either subject, Clarice padded up to *him*, hugged him tightly and kissed him-

*Very* deeply indeed.

Dale sighed.

It had happened *again*.

*Another* female had come for Chip.

He felt a little pain, but he was getting used to that now.

Here, however, a strange reaction was triggered on Gadget's person. Upon seeing this otherwise unknown-*gorgeous*-chipmunkmaid, who was obviously an old friend of Chip and Dale (*crush*??!!), suddenly appear out of nowhere, grab Chip and practically shove her tongue down his throat and cause his ears to lay flat and his tail to vibrate so, every muscle in Gadget's body tensed, and her paws closed to form pale fists, and her ears and tail tensed as well. And she herself was wondering what was suddenly taking control of her. Not that she hadn't seen a kiss like this before, because she had, but because she was seeing it happen to *Chip*. It was a very strange feeling, one she could not identify, for she had never felt it before:

Or had she?

It wasn't anger, for she had no reason to be angry, since this was Chip's old friend, and because she was obviously more than happy to see him and Dale again. But then, a vague memory drifted from the darkest recesses of her mind, a memory that sought to connect the present emotion to a similar one she experienced years ago. Suddenly remembering herself as a cub, of going to school and coming back from school, of her father taking her to and back from it, and how she saw all the other animals' parents do likewise, but of *only* having her father do so, while the others had their fathers and/or *mothers* to do that task, the emotions connected. She vividly remembered that feeling now, only that when she felt it twelve years ago, she did not know what it was, but it was definitely something that was present in the pit of her stomach, and it was exactly what she was feeling now, *twelvefold*. She sought frantically for a label, a word, an identity for this emotion, but she couldn't find any. She knew there was a word to what she was feeling, but what was it? Could it be-

Jealousy?

Clarice released Chip, who took thirty seconds to catch his breath again.

“Clarice, I see you remember Chip,” stated Dale, matter-of-factly, trying to ignore the pain again.

“Oh, come on, darling, how could I ever forget him? And who are your friends?” Dale thusly did the introductions,

“Clarice, this is Gadget Hackwrench, Monterey Jack Colby, and our fellow dipterid: Zipper Lightringer.” Clarice proceeded to shake paws with Dale's friends, or so they thought. She held out a digit for Zipper and gave him a light kiss on the lips, she shook Monterey's paw vigorously and kissed *his* lips, and she gently shook Gadget's paws and kissed her cheek. Gadget, for some reason, felt like turning her off, like an appliance, somehow. Still, she managed to relax her features

“Uh, Clarice!” exclaimed Chip, after catching his breath and getting his tail under control. “I'm-I'm happy too see you again, too!! What brings you all the way here from Vegas?”

*Vegas?* thought Gadget. *As in _Las_ Vegas, Nevada, gambling capital of the world?*

“Oh, well, what else?” she replied, going over to Dale once again, holding his left paw in both of hers. “I came here to wish my old friend good luck!!”

“Good luck in what?” asked Dale, looking at her a trifle confused-like.

“Why, good luck in your marriage, of course!!” she replied, squeezing his paw a trifle. “Four weeks ago, I was reading the socials in the *Vegas Furries*-I *always* read the socials, mind you, you never know *what* they're going to say about you-when I stumbled across the announcement of my dear old friend Dale, Rescue Ranger, about to be married!!”

“Well, Clarice-”

“So I told myself, 'Self, you just HAVE to go to your friend's wedding'.”

“Clarice-”

“I mean, after all the good times we had back upstate, I just HAD to come and share in your joy.”

“Clarice-”

“I mean, Gadget honey, you should have *seen* the way these two hunks looked at me whenever I was on stage. So, I just couldn't believe that dear old Dale had finally landed himself a girlfriend, and a bat, too!! She must be something really special.”

“Well, she is, but-” She then turned to him again and continued,

“Oh, Dale, but I'm so sorry I arrived three weeks late. I mean, I *pleaded* with my agent to let me off for just two days, but noooooo, he said,” with a mocking low voice, “a contract is a contract, and you have to live up to it,” then with her normal squeaky voice, “and live up to it I did, that no-good-um, well, you know.” She stiffened her ears and tail here, but only for a moment. She relaxed them, while Dale tried to explain,

“But Clarice-”

“I know, I know, Dale, I know exactly what happened,” she continued, softly holding and patting his left paw.

“You do?”

“Well, of *course* I do, dear! It was all over the animal press three days later!! I'll tell you, your fiancÈe must *truly* love you to have endured that kidnapping. And right before the wedding, too! Oh, Dale, it must have been awful!!”

“It was, but-”

“And so you postponed the wedding. Hey, I made it on time anyway! But don't worry, I won't tell anyone about it if you don't tell my agent where I am right now, ha ha ha!!” She winked an eye at him.

“Clarice-”

“Say, where *is* your fiancÈe, anyway-? OOPS!!” She then whispered, “I'm sorry, guys, I forgot. She's a bat, so she's asleep right now, right?”

“Clarice-” She then lowered her ears and tail and slapped her forehead,

“Oh, where are my manners?! I keep calling her 'your fiancÈe'! Her name is, uh, what *was* her name?” Seeking for a name in her hyperactive brain, she raised one ear and recited, “Uh, Daisy? Forget-me-not? Magnolia? Rose? Lilly? Buttercup?”

“Foxglove.”

“Oops! There I go again. So, when *are* you having the ceremony, toots?” Dale looked at the others, and then he looked back at his old friend with sadness.

“Clarice, I'm sorry, but you came all the way here for nothin'. The weddin' wasn't postponed, it was called off.” Clarice's joviality was suddenly truncated when she heard that statement.

“C-called off?”

“Yes. We-broke up shortly after we rescued her.”

“B-broke up?? B-but-why?? From what I read in the socials, you two were *perfect* for each other!!”

“Clarice, you-just had to be there. And-it was somethin' I had to do. I'm sorry you came all the way here for nothin', but I'm glad to see you again,” though his face showed otherwise. Clarice, being suddenly hit with news so shocking as this, did what every self-respecting female celebrity did in situations like this: She drooped her ears and tail, broke down in tears, embraced Dale again, and expressed her condolences.

“Oh, Dale-Dale-I'm so sorry for you-!!! So-sorry-” Gadget calmed down at this point, her questionable feelings subsiding. Still, for some reason, she thought that this chipmunkmaid was faking it, somehow. Or maybe it was the celebrity atmosphere about her:

About five minutes later, they were all sitting on the couch, but it appeared that it was *Dale* who was consoling *Clarice*.

“Clarice, it's over. Foxglove had to leave, and I'm sorry you never got the chance to meet her. I'm sorry for all the trouble you went through to get here, and if there is anythin' we can do to make it up to you, well-” Clarice looked up at him and sniffed,

“Oh, will you look at me! Here I am, thinking I'm comforting an old friend, and it turns out he's comforting ME!! I'm sorry Dale, I really am. But, as long as I'm here, we might as well catch up from old times. Let's see, the last time I saw you two was about six years ago, just before my big break in Atlantic City. What have you guys done in the meantime?” As she dried her tears and raised her ears, Chip explained to her how after rescuing an injured beaver, he and Dale decided to follow up on a dream they both had of becoming detectives. He told them of their time alone, their time with Plato, how they met Monterey, Zipper, and Gadget, how they met Foxglove afterwards, and how they had helped countless animals and humans all over the world. She, in turn, told them of the celebrity life that took off from Atlantic City, and how she made the rounds to Orlando, Miami, Austin, Nashville, Hollywood, and finally Las Vegas, where she practically had every male animal drooling whenever she went out on stage. “And tell me, Chip, I don't suppose you found yourself a dame that could make you drool more than *I* could?” Chip blushed a trifle.

“Um, well, this job doesn't leave much time for that, especially since I'm the leader-”

“Oh, nonsense, Chipper, if Dale here almost landed himself a wife, I'm sure you can, too.”

*Hmm. Maybe this chipmunkmaid isn't so imposing after all,* thought Gadget. But then she saw that Clarice was batting her LONG eyelashes at Chip. And he, for some reason again, was not responding. She had to act quickly.

“So, Clarice, are you going back to Las Vegas, then?”

“Eventually, yes.” Gadget quietly sighed in relief. “But there's another reason why I came to New York.” Gadget's tension arose again. “My agent brought to my attention that there were a few clubs here that wanted me for several nights, AND that some casting directors were playing the rounds, too. Hey, I *might* end up in Broadway!! In fact, Dale, tonight at eight, The Nutshell Club is having an open mike comedy night! You can have everyone rolling on the floor and wetting themselves-”

“Uh, sorry, Clarice, but being a Rescue Ranger is kinda hard work, and when we're not solvin' cases, we're usually lookin' for them. Besides, I-I don't do comedy anymore-”

“You WHAT??” she chattered, lowering her ears again.

“I don't do comedy anymore. It-it got in the way of the detective business. I had to change my name, too. I had to drop Segoleh. I'm now Dale Hastahah.” Clarice could not believe her ears. Never had she heard of such a radical change in name and personality, ever, not with anyone she knew, at least. “And we *are* kinda busy right now, so-”

“Uh, Clarice!!” exclaimed Chip. “We'd be glad to see you at The Nutshell tonight!! After all that's happened here, we need a break, AND we could use a laugh or two.” Chip looked at Dale with anger and disappointment, while Dale looked at Chip with a you-can-lead-a-horse-to-water face, and both had their ears down again. Clarice, meanwhile, recovered a trifle from her previous shock and raised her ears again.

“It's settled, then!! But Dale, are you sure you don't want to go on stage? I could save a place for you.”

“Clarice, I appreciate your help, but, no thanks, really.” She smirked a trifle at him and replied,

“It's your loss, then, honey. Well, I'd better be getting to The Nutshell myself. I'll see you all there!!” They stood and she kissed all of them good-bye, making a special emphasis on Chip, which almost made Gadget's eyes turn yellow. With that, the gorgeous female chipmunk pranced out the door and left, and for some reason Dale did not let her out of his sight until the door was closed:

DEKA - NEW FLAME, OLD FUEL

Foxglove perched herself on a tree just as dawn began. Completely exhausted, she was amazed at just how far she could fly in twelve hours. She had already left New York State, and was well into Connecticut. She would sleep here and continue in the evening, hoping to spend the next day in Massachusetts. Fortunately for her, there were plenty of insects and moths to eat, and no bat predators had come to her encounter. This night she had eaten FIVE luna moths, but for some reason, they did not taste THAT good anymore. That was more than surprising for her; she KNEW they were luna moths, and she KNEW they were tasty, but they didn't taste THAT good anymore. Maybe they were from a different strain:

She would wonder about that later. Right now, she needed to find a safe place to sleep for the day. Flying off again, she heard up ahead a redwood with a thick top, and a few holes in its trunk. She flew toward it, but then she heard behind her,

“Foxglove!!” And it wasn't a normal animal voice, it was spoken in ultrasound, by TWO creatures. She turned and hovered, and echosounded at them in fear as she heard OTIS coming toward her. She calmed down, however, when she heard another chiropterid coming behind him, a female. Catching up, Otis panted,

“Foxglove! I thought you were still in New York! We've been echosounding all over this flight path for you!!” For some reason, Foxglove was glad that he was sounding like a big brother,

“Sorry, Otis, it's just that you were gone for three nights, and I thought you weren't coming back, so I decided to fly to Boston alone.”

“You're lucky you didn't meet any owls on the way! It's a dangerous trip as it is, and we were worried sick about you!” Foxglove's ears drooped at this reprimand from her “brother”, who then corrected his tone of voice, “Oh, sorry, Foxy. I didn't mean-”

“Um, y-you're right, Otis,” she stated. “I shouldn't be flying on my own. I-I'm sorry.” Feeling more than awkward, Otis just echosounded at her. He noticed that her pinkish-brown fur sounded soft, and her eyes were the most beautiful blue, and her sonar was-

“Uh, Foxglove!! I'd like you to meet my cousin, Feyyanna. Feyyanna, this is my friend, Foxglove, former Rescue Ranger.” Foxglove scanned the female. She, too, was a grey batmaid, though her eyes were hazel, and her ears were slightly more triangular. There was an air of friendship about her, similar to Otis'.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Foxglove.

“Semm heyer. Cossin Otis tells meh yew loss yewr boyefrenn'?” Foxglove was somewhat surprised to hear a slow Texan accent, and she was even more surprised when she realised that although it sounded funny, she did not feel like laughing, chuckling, or even smiling.

“Well, not exactly lost, Feyyanna, it's more like we broke up.”

“Oh, Ah'm sorreh 'bout thayat, Foxey!! Now, mah cossin heyer tells meh yew're lookin' for yore perrints?”

“Yes. I'm on my way to Boston, and now that I think about it, I'm gonna need your help.”

“What we're gonna need now is a good day's rest!” said Otis. “We almost fainted halfway on the trip here! Foxy, I didn't know you could fly so far for so long!”

“Uh, thanks, Otis, I didn't know that either. Look, we can sleep in that redwood, and continue tonight. How do you feel about that?”

“Sounns fahn to meh. An' Ah could yewse a ress, too!” With that, the three pipistrells flew to the redwood, perched on a high branch, and fell asleep, with Feyyanna sleeping between the other two, allowing Foxglove to relax even further.

The following night, as they were almost to the Massachusetts state line, Otis was flying about ten meters ahead of the two batmaids, letting them have a female-to-female talk.

“So, you're from Texas?” asked Foxglove.

“Yup. Mah fammele juss moved a coppel months bayack. Too menny 'sheyells' were commin' neer the cayev, yew knewe.” Both batmaids winced at this statement, for no chiropterid ever associated with an armadillo or even spoke its name out loud. So, they were labelled “shells”. Foxglove continued,

“I met one of them in a field some time ago. Well, more like I *heard* it. He didn't see me, but I think he knew I was there. I flew away as fast as I could. Horrible, evil creatures they are!!” Feyyanna then decided to change the subject.

“Oh, 'nough 'bout thayat! Teyell meh, whayat was yore boyefrenn' lahk?” Foxglove sighed. She REALLY didn't want to talk about this, but Feyyanna's eyes and the friendship and sympathy they expressed were getting to her.

“Dale was a chipmunk.”

“A WHAYAT?”

“A rodent. A chipmunk. He was the best sounding hunk I ever heard. I know you're surprised, but when I first heard him, I completely lost myself to him. You would have, too. And he didn't look that bad either! He was handsome, brave, funny, strong, loving, helpful, spontaneous-but somewhat fickle and hesitant-and just a tad shy and clumsy. I had to wait two years before he asked me to marry him, and right before the ceremony, I was kidnapped by an evil cat. My other Ranger friends tried to save me, but they were captured, too. When all seemed lost, Dale came and rescued all of us, and-and-realised that with our line of work, getting married was the worst thing we could do. He also realised that he had too many faults to be a good husband and father, so he let me go.”

“Oh, Ah'm sorreh, Foxey! Otis tol' meh yew had gonn threw summthin' horrebbel, but nut lakk thiyis!!”

“I know. It was horrible. I wouldn't wish that on any 'shell', either.” Feyyanna was shocked at this statement. What Foxglove went through must have been something right out of Hades itself. “So now, all I have left to do is find my family. I hope I find them.”

“Whayat well yew dew eff theye're deid?” Foxglove echosounded at her for a moment, and replied,

“I guess I'll live like any other bat, I suppose. Sleep during the day, eat during the night, have a few friends, avoid owls and other predators, just be an average batmaid.”

“But whayat 'bout YORE fammeleh? Ah mean, well yew eyver fannd a mayte aggin'?” The ex-girlfriend echosounded ahead and thought, *No way*, while replying,

“I don't know, Feyyanna. Right now, I simply don't know.”

Feyyanna knew, however.

For she, too, had noticed the way Foxglove echosounded at Otis whenever he flew directly in front of her:

HEISDEKA - A NEW HOPE AND OLD FRIENDS

They finally arrived in Boston, ten nights after the tragedy. After asking for directions to the local chiropterids, they flew toward a pine next to a colonial church. Perching themselves on a branch, they echosounded at a hole in the trunk. They had no need to knock or call out, for the occupant emerged three seconds later. The occupant echosounded at the three pipistrells and asked,

“May I help you?” Foxglove swallowed quite audibly and replied,

“G-good evening. Is your name Janice?” The middle-aged bat echosounded at the young one and replied,

“Yes, it is.”

“Uh, ma'am, we're doing an investigation-searching for a parent-did you lose a daughter in a park approximately twenty years ago?” Janice turned to Foxglove again, only this time she echosounded more carefully *and* looked closer at her as well. Her fur was almost her exact shade, though her facial contours were rather dissimilar. Her heart fluttered as painful memories flashed through her head.

“E-eighteen years ago-I-was flying in a park-near the coast-in Staten Island--it was evening-I was carrying my daughter-my husband was next to me--an owl lady attacked-I dodged as best as I could-my husband tried to defend me-the owl lady hit me in my wing---I dropped my daughter--my husband was killed--I fell--blacked out--I echosounded for my daughter---and never found her--I always thought the owl lady killed her-unless--unless--is your name Leticia?”

Leticia.

Could that be her *real* name?

“I-I don't know, Janice. I never knew my mother-or father-or my real name-I call myself Foxglove-” Janice opened her blue eyes really wide and perked her ears up as much as she could while echosounding at her madly, and asked,

“Foxglove? Are you-are you-my-my daughter?” Here, Foxglove wanted to squeal YES, but held back with a tremendous amount of effort, as she needed to ask one more question. So, she replied,

“I-I-I DON'T KNOW!!!!!!!! Er-excuse me-” she slowly shook her head back into rationality and continued, “Janice-do you-know ANY other bat couple who has lost a daughter this way?” Janice sagged at this last question. A moment later, she echosounded at her again and replied,

“Foxglove, I know *six* couples who have lost a daughter the way I did. It seems that owl lady was waiting in ambush in that park, attacking whatever chiropterid she saw. We all left Staten Island and settled here, those that survived, that is.”

“Survived?” her ears perked.

“One couple and their daughter were killed in one evening. Or, that's what I heard. I know for *sure* that the parents died, but now that *you're* here-well-it's possible that their daughter may have survived-somehow.” Foxglove continued struggling in a tremendous effort to remain calm.

“Janice-how-how many are left?”

“There's me, a male bat, and three couples. I know were they live.” Foxglove's hopes were now quadrupled. THREE full sets of parents, a single mother, and a single father to choose from!!

“Janice-can-can you take us to them??”

“Well, I would, but I need to know who your friends are, first.”

“Oh! I'm sorry!! This is Otis, and his cousin Feyyanna. They're helping me with the investigation. Janice, I hope that either you or the others are my parents. I REALLY need to find them.”

“I hope you're my daughter, too, Foxglove. Now come, the day is young!!” With that, the four chiropterids began making their rounds around Boston.

Around 3 a.m., eleven verspetilionids were perched on a willow in a park. Foxglove looked and echosounded at them individually. There was Janice, the single mother, Marcus, the single father, Richard and Rosie, Dusk and Dawn, and Curtis and Grace. All of them had grey fur, except for Curtis, who was grey-brown, and all had brown eyes, save for Dawn, who had green eyes, and Richard, who had them hazel. Marcus, however, had similar facial features as Foxglove's.

“Well, Foxy, I guess you can now take your pick!” jested Otis. All the other chiropterids laughed, except for Foxglove, who did not even smile. Seeing this, the bats settled down to an uncomfortable silence. Foxglove began,

“So, *all* of you lost a daughter eighteen years ago?”

“Seventeen years,” said Richard.

“Eighteen years,” said Dawn.

“Nineteen years,” said Curtis.

“All are in my 'age range', then. And *all* of you lost her in a park?”

“Yes, sure, yeah,” they replied. Now came the unfortunate process of elimination.

“Did your daughters have blue eyes?”

“Yes,” they all replied in unison, surprising each other. Foxglove blinked at this.

“How can that be? The only one here with blue eyes is Janice!”

“True,” replied Marcus, “but I guess that comes because you may have had at least one grandparent with blue eyes.” This wasn't getting Foxglove anywhere. All the progress she had made had brought her to a complete standstill. But maybe if she forced herself to remember-

“What were your daughters' names?” she asked.

“Leticia,” replied Janice.

“Irene,” replied Marcus.

“Dawn,” replied Dusk.

“Aurora,” replied Rosie.

“Alicia,” replied Grace. Foxglove closed her eyes and pressed Rewind on her memory. Rewind, rewind, rewind, rewind, back to the park, back to hanging on to her mother, remember the scents, remember the sounds, remember the voices, remember the names, remember, remember, remember:

Remember-“Leticia”? Remember-“Irene”? Remember-“Dawn”? Remember-“Aurora”? Remember-“Alicia”?

Her entire body trembled with frustration as her memory refused to reveal that one particular word, or even the scent. She then covered her head with her wings and growled,

“AAAARRGGGHHHHH!!! *I* *CAN'T* *REMEMBER*!!!!!!” Gasping, she felt surprised at herself when she realised that even though she felt like crying at this point, her lachrymal glands appeared to have taken a Sabbatical.

“Well, isn't there any other way of finding out who you belong to?” asked Richard.

“I doubt it,” replied Otis. “It seems the only way we can find out is through a DNA test. But don't feel too bad, Foxglove. I mean, you *have* found more friends-”

“**WHAT** DID YOU SAY?????!!!!!” she suddenly exclaimed. A somewhat shocked and confused male pipistrell replied,

“Uh-well, I said that you *do* have plenty of friends for suppo-”

“BEFORE THAT!!!!”

“That you shouldn't feel too bad because-”

“***BEFORE THAT***!!!!!!!!!” Foxglove was practically shrieking now and her tail was twitching.

“That the only way we can find out is through a DNA test?”

“*****YES*****!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, Otis, I could just-!!!!!!” Foxglove suddenly found herself with her wings wrapped around Otis and her lips *very* close to his. Upon realising this, she instantly snatched herself away from him. Her ears would have drooped if wasn't hanging upside-down, but she wasn't blushing, however, for some reason:

“Uh, sorry, Otis, I don't know what came over me. I-it won't happen again. I-I'm sorry.” The male replied rather sheepishly,

“Uh, sure, Foxy, whatever. I'll-I'll try not to be so close to you now. But-a DNA test? I mean, it *can* figure out who you belong to, but how are we going to get humans to do one of those on all of you? It's not as if they actually have the time for *us*, you know-”

“No, Otis, *humans* will not perform the test on us. I know *exactly* who can perform the tests, and they live right nearby, too!!”

“Ann who, prayye teyell, arr theeyes pursonns?” asked Feyyanna.

“Guys, I would like you to meet Sparky and Buzz. Sparky, Buzz, these are my friends Otis, Feyyanna, Janice, Marcus, Dusk, Dawn, Curtis, Grace, Richard, and Rosie. The rodents and the chiropterids greeted each other.

It was dawn by the time the flock reached the campus of MIT. Once there, Foxglove led the others to a building in particular. Flying down to its base, they crept through a rodent entrance and flew toward a lab. They had found the lab rat and the guinea pig fast asleep in their cages, but it wasn't too long until they awakened. It also wasn't too long until Curtis discovered the reason why the male rat was called “Sparky”. After seeing and echosounding at Curtis' fur standing on end and the rest of him begin to smoulder momentarily, the other pipistrells decided to greet him with a simple wave of their wings.

“Sparky and Buzz are friends of the Rangers,” explained Foxglove. “They met them sometime before they met me, and we've-they've exchanged letters now and then.”

“I'll say,” remarked Buzz. “Chip wrote a while back and invited us to Dale's wedding, but we were simply too busy to attend.” Sparky added,

“Yeah. We were stuck in a series of experiments that we simply couldn't get out of. By the way, Foxglove, whom was Dale getting married to?”

“NEVER MIND!!!” she squealed. Then, she said in a kinder, embarrassed voice, and with drooped ears, “Oh, sorry, Sparky. Uh, the wedding is not important now.” The other chiropterids felt rather shocked at her last statement. “Guys, what we need for you to do is a DNA test. We need to know if my DNA matches that of any of these bats. We-need to know if they are related to me, somehow.” Sparky looked at his guinea pig friend for a moment, and then asked him,

“Well, Buzz, are you up to this?”

“Hey, it's not like we haven't done this before.”

“And how long will this take?” asked Grace. Buzz replied,

“Well, the individual test doesn't take as long as it does on humans, because of the fewer number of chromosomes. Since there is quite a number of you, it could take some time, but not if we start right now. The humans don't have any tests programmed at the DNA lab today.” Foxglove echosounded at the other bats with pleading and excitement, and they echosounded back at her with approval. She then turned back to the rodents and exclaimed, with her tail twitching (but still with no smile on her face),

“Well, then, let's get started!! The sooner we begin, the sooner-yaaaawwwnn-excuse me-we can sleep today!!”

With that, the rodents led the chiropterids to the DNA lab:

NEXT / NÄCHSTE / A CONTINUACION / A SEGUIR / NÄSTA

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