On A Morning Like This Chapter 7 Strange Contraptors

Sleeping deeply, they passed a peaceful night. The new moon made an arc across the sky and dipped toward the western horizon as Pata-Pikki opened his eyes and looked around the circle of companions. A glimmer of light had appeared on the far eastern horizon. He saw Nonna sit up in the ferns that had made her bed. Nodding to her in the half-light, Pata-Pikki stood and roused Hoopy, Bar-thur, and Flur-Ella. “We’re going to move now.”
Gathering their possessions, they swallowed a hasty breakfast. Hoopy filled the hole where he had been sleeping and went from place to place, pulling the growth that had made their beds upright. An observer would not know they had been there.
Flur-Ella looked down at a crushed fern that was hanging over. “Hoopy, you forgot that one!” She jumped up and kicked the fern upright, running in a circle. She danced around it, leaving no trace of her dance on the ground. They laughed at her silliness. She giggled in return.
With a lightened spirit, they took a last drink from the stream and descended the mountain. The light of the sun appeared in the east. Ahead, they saw low-rolling barren hills.
Hearing a familiar chirp, they looked up and saw Hatch. “Here you are!” she chirped. “You have come a long way.”
“We are going east towards those stone cliffs, as Nonna lives in a village called Mihael,” Pata-Pikki whistled back to Hatch.
“I will tell the others. They send their greetings. Our group has gone south.” Hatch explained the route. “We hold you in our hearts,” she whistled.
“Thank you, Hatch. We will meet you there,” Pata-Pikki whined. He translated what the others had not understood. With that, Hatch flew into the sky and back into the forest.
They studied the landscape that lay before them. Pata-Pikki asked, “Is this country familiar to you?”
Bar-thur uttered a squeaking sigh, “There are no trees down there!”
Nonna laughed, “There are trees, but they are small.” She pointed to the low-growing scrub cedars that dotted the landscape. “I know this country; these are the Rolling Hills. Those are the Rockliffs that you see in the distance. They are the Stone Fortress. That is where we go. I think the Strange Contraptors and their owners will not come this far. We perhaps don’t need to travel as quickly.”
Pata-Pikki barked quizzically, “Where does the Farmer Man live? Are we close to his home?”
Nonna pointed to the north. “He lives near the low hill you see in the distance. It is about a day’s march from here.”
“Do you want to get the part for the plow you needed from him?” Pata-Pikki asked. “I would like to meet him.”
Nonna was quiet. “No, that may be a trap. I wonder if he is still safe. I feel that we should go directly to the Rockliffs.”
“Does The One Who Lives tell you this?” woofed Pata-Pikki. “I have no sense of it.” It was still; there was no wind at the edge of the desert to whisper messages.
“Yes, I think so…” she answered.
Descending from the forest, they spent the rest of the morning climbing up and down sandy hills, always moving toward the massive cliffs. Stopping to eat under the east side of a large hill dotted with small scrubby bushes, Nonna spoke to them. “If we can find the Deep Road from this point, it will be better for us. Let’s go to the north, as that is where I came into the desert from the Rockliffs.”
They made their way in a northerly direction when Nonna exclaimed, “The Deep Road!” Pointing, she saw something in the landscape that was different. Puzzled, the Scrufflings wondered what she saw.
The hills gave way to high stone cliffs. Between them was a deep, dry riverbed. Climbing down, the Forest Beings marveled at the sandy roadway that wound through a rock-lined corridor. The sun rose in the sky, and its warmth bounced off the walls.
“There is a spring deeper into the canyon with good water,” Nonna said hopefully.
Suddenly they heard the whirly of a Strange Contraptor somewhere above them. “To the wall!” Pata-Pikki yipped, abandoning the thought of removing his muffler in the newfound heat. Quickly, they flattened themselves against the side of the canyon wall in the deep shadows and remained motionless. 
Nonna’s green clothing gradually faded to brown so that she blended into the stone. Their forest clothing had the same effect, taking on the natural color of the walls against which they hid. They heard the feet of the Strange Contraptor landing in the soft sand directly above them. Then, as suddenly, it lifted again into the air and, by the sound of it, flew north.