“So…what are we gonna do?” Finn asked, eyebrows raised.

“Well, we’re not gonna sit here all night. For all we know, Brass Eagle could be in trouble. Caretaker, Dr. Oblivion (though he seemed to be able to manage him the first time), and I’ve heard of several species of venemous chinchillas.”

“Venemous chinchillas?”

“Venemous chinchillas.”

“We aren’t even near South America!”

“Shut up.”

Mug and Finn looked over at the last speaker. Anonymous sat as still as he had before, glasses and cloth mask hiding his expression, if he had any.

“Did he just—”

“It doesn’t matter. Eagle might be in trouble anywhere on this island, or Grasshopper for that matter. Let’s go.” Mug motioned to the two of them and stood up, brushing stray insects off his clothing.

The trio threw dirt on the campfire. Mug started lumbering through the forest, not bothering with quiet. Finn crept as well as he could, on tip-toes. Anonymous simply vanished.