By R. L. LaFevers
Will he be capable to see the phoenix adequately hatched, retain his unintentional puppy gremlin out of hassle, and rescue his mum or dad from the Bedouin? If he fails, not anything will stand among the world’s legendary creatures and extinction.
Too undesirable Nate’s now not this kind of boy who enjoys experience . . .yet.
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Additional info for Flight of the Phoenix
One of them set a step stool by the plane so Aunt Phil could climb out. When she was down, she motioned to Nate. He grabbed his pack and scrambled over the edge. The leader folded his hands and gave a small bow. "Greetings, Dr. Fludd. " Then she began talking to him in an unfamiliar language. Arabian, Nate guessed, since they were in Arabia. When she was done talking, she clamped her hand on to Nate's shoulder and steered him to one of the tents. "We're going to catch a bit of sleep in here until the sun goes down.
That was rather the long way about. My point was, for centuries, Fludds have traveled. And for centuries, we have recorded our travels in letters so as to report to those back home. Being an explorer is dangerous work, and we've always known that some of us won't return. Not wanting all our work to be lost, we write letters to record our findings. It's as much a part of being a Fludd as a love of exploration. That's why I'm so sure your parents wrote you letters. " Nate thought hard, as far back as he could remember.
Nothing happened. As he waited, he noticed a brass plaque above the door: P. A. FLUDD, BEASTOLOGIST. He'd never heard of a beastologist before. That could be interesting. Except that thinking of beasts had him thinking of bats again. He glanced up at the shadows under the eaves, then lifted the knocker and rapped harder. Finally, he heard the sound of footsteps from inside the house. The door jerked open as a voice said, "I told you. I don't have anything else for your charity bazaar. Now, do leave me alone—oh.