“That sounds,” Castor looked at the last piece of cheese on the plate, “fun.”
“Yeah,” Ripley sighed. “Normally, we’re way more fun than we were today. I mean, you know, today was fun. But it’s usually way way funner.”
Castor nodded. “I myself have always preferred discovery to pillaging. Although sometimes pillaging is necessary, obviously, for survival. But I think discovery is much closer to what you call . . . fun.”
Ripley nodded, wondering if pillaging meant what she thought it meant.
Castor pushed the plate with the last piece of cheese toward Ripley. “You know, once, several moons ago, my mother and I found this place. You would love it.” She smiled, rubbing her paws together. “It was made of little stones, all shaped like tiny buttons, all white and black, and when you ran over them, the ground made a noise like tacka-de-tacka-de-tacka-de-tacka! I loved that sound. I would have gone back many times just to hear it. Such a ridiculous sound.”
“That sounds really cool,” Ripley said. “Tacka-de-tacka-de-tacka-de-tacka!”
“You all are so lovely and kind,” Castor said, looking down at the plate, thinking about cheese, about the larder she had planned to raid that very night. “I hadn’t expected that. I hadn’t expected any of this.”
Ripley lay down on top of the picnic bench. Castor did the same.
“The moon always makes me think of a face looking down,” Ripley said, closing one eye.
“Ripley?”
“Yes?”
Castor shifted her ears. “I have to tell you something.”
CHAPTER 21
By the time everyone got to bed—with the exception of Jen, who was, surprise surprise, out working on Galaxy Wars stuff—it was pretty late.
Ripley and Castor passed out on their bunk, fully clothed and full of cheese.
Crickets chirped outside.
The cabin was quiet.
April was thinking.
Crawling up to Jo’s bunk, she asked, “Remember the games we used to play, you know, pre–Galaxy Wars?”
Jo considered. “Like, What Time Is It Mrs. Wolf?”
“Gah, the abomination that is What Time Is It Mrs. Wolf!” April shook her fist at the ceiling. “SLOWEST RACE EVER.”
“Yeah.”
Molly rolled over on her bunk. “Did you guys ever play Simon Says?”
“We played SIMONE Says,” Jo said. “Because April refused to do what Simon said.”
“I’m rarely in a mood to be dictated to by a fictional male figure,” April sniffed.
“Who is?” Mal wondered.
“What was that other game,” April mused, “that one you used to think was so funny . . . ?”
Jo lay back on her pillow. “Funny?”
“The one about the moon,” April mused, looking up at the bottom of Jo’s bunk.
“OH!” Jo grinned. “HA HA!”
It was the first time in so many days April had heard Jo laugh, and it filled her heart.
“Man,” Jo chuckled, “I loved that game, what was it called?”
There was a crashing sound outside, and Jen stumbled in the door.
“Hey, guys,” she slurred sleepily. “It’s Joan. Or Jen. Whatever. Go to sleep.”
She swiveled and stumbled back out again.
“Is it me,” Molly said, mostly to herself, “or are things, like, super stressful at camp right now?”
Mal had fallen asleep, still strapped to her accordion.
“Good night, everyone,” Jo said, reaching to turn off the light.
On any given night, a person has any number of dreams, which we often forget because waking up tends to jog them out of our heads.
Jo dreamed she was standing in front of two doors. In front of one was the letter, with cartoon legs and arms and a deep, serious voice.
Hey, Jo.
In front of the other was April, who was yelling and waving her arms and saying something Jo couldn’t hear.
Mal dreamed she was standing on a giant pizza, in her underwear, playing the accordion, except all the buttons were in the wrong places and the keys didn’t make any sounds.
Finally, Mal slammed her fingers down and there was a KABOOM!
Mal sat up, awake. “PIZZA!?”
BOOM! CRASH!
The door slammed open and a green light filled the cabin.
And was gone as fast as it had come.
Molly sat up. “WHAT THE JUNK WAS THAT!?”
“IS EVERYONE OKAY?” Jo called out.
“I think so.” April rubbed her eyes.
Everyone looked around.
A cold wind blew through the open door, tossing the twinkly moons over Ripley’s bed.
Ripley jumped up on her bed. “CASTOR!”
“WHAT?” everyone yelled in unison.
“SHE’S GONE!”
CHAPTER 22
A Lumberjane, amongst many other things, is always prepared. There are many ways to achieve this. One is knowing a lot about a lot of different things so you can be prepared to answer questions like: “What is the best way to treat a sunburn?” or “How do you make a slingshot?” or “How many games does it take to beat a Mammoth Marsupial Mouthmonster at chess?”
(Aloe.)
(Find a natural Y-shaped branch, trim, add notches to the top forks one inch below the tips, attach flexible tubing with a leather pouch in the center at the notches. Fire away.)
(Actually, this is a bit of a trick question, since Mammoth Marsupials don’t play chess, they play checkers. Very well.)
The other is to have some basic supplies with you at all times so that you are prepared for the series of unexpected events that are an inevitable part of being a Lumberjane, most especially when you are a member of Roanoke cabin.
This is why April, when she sprung out of her bunk, already had her lasso in hand.
“ROANOKE TO THE LASSO!”
Ripley, who was prepared with cat-like reflexes, was out of the cabin like a cannonball in two-point-two seconds FLAT. She shot out the door and bounced twice on the ground, landing in classic superhero pose in the clearing just beyond the cabins.
“CASTOR?”
A sharp squeak pierced the air.
Ripley clutched her fist. “Castor!”
She bounced and bounced across the courtyard until she spotted what at first looked like a massive black cloud with many legs, and which was, in fact, rumbling toward her at that very moment, with Castor bumping around on the top.
“Rrrrripley!”
Ripley bounded, jumped, and landed on the top of the moving mass, right next to a very rattled-looking Castor!
“Are you okay?” Ripley asked, huffing.
The moving black mass with many legs wriggled and skittered over the ground.
“I believe so,” Castor grumbled. “No thanks to you ruddy CHEESE HEADS!” she shouted down at the rumbling mass beneath them.
Ripley looked down. Ripley had ridden a moose and a giant kitten. This was new, though. “Uh,” she said, her voice bouncing along with the rumbling creatures below them. “Soooo, what’s happening?”
April, Jo, Mal, and Molly ran out the door and spotted the mass carrying Castor and Ripley in the distance. It seemed to be headed toward the camp entrance.
“We can catch them if we cut through . . .” Mal paused. “Uh.”
“The cabins!” Molly shouted, as she dodged past Dart-moor and rounded the corner past Zodiac’s cabin.
“Then what do we do?” Mal shouted as they ran.
“Sling shots?” Molly called back.
“We don’t know what that thing carrying them is,” Jo huffed. “Or what will happen if we hit whatever it is.”
Scientists like to consider the many outcomes of what they might do before they do it.
Lumberjanes know that the first rule of firing a slingshot is you want to know what you’re firing at and why you’re firing.
“WHATEVER IT IS, BRING IT ON,” April hollered, whipping her lasso in the air.
“You know,” Mal huffed, “as a side note, I never run and talk when I’m at home.”
They made it to the camp entrance ahead of the mass, but it was closing in.
“Right.” April looked up at the arch above the entrance. “Here’s the plan: two times two scout Missy Deville Dodow move followed by a basic Limbo rescue.”
“You want to add a half Andie Walsh into that?” Molly asked.
April scrunched up her eyebrows. “What’s that?”
Molly grinned. “I don’t actually think that’s a move. I just think it should be.”
“Right!” April raised her hand. “We have the will and the way! Roanoke ready?”
“Check!”
“Check!”
“Check!”
Ripley looked down. Looking closer, the moving mass was a mass of creatures, all wearing silver goggles and tiny silver helmets, with massive clawed hands, which were currently all lifted up to carry their passengers. Little pink noses snuffed the air. Purely out of curiosity, Ripley asked, “What are we being carried away by?”
“Moon moles.” Castor frowned. “RUDDY AWFUL MOON MOLES!”
The mass of moon moles took a twist to the left and to the right before doubling back in their original direction.
“Do they know where they’re going?” Ripley asked, looking behind her.
“Probably not,” Castor said. “They’ve got brie for brains, these things.”
That’s not exactly true, but Castor was feeling pretty annoyed at that moment.
“Okay, cool.” Ripley looked up and spotted her cabin mates getting into place. “Okay. See that archway up there? When we get to the arch, we’re going to jump!”
“Jump?” Castor’s voice rattled. “Jump where?”
Ripley pointed. “JUMP UP AND GRAB THE ROPE!”
At the archway, April stood on Molly’s shoulders on one side and Mal stood on Jo’s shoulders on the other. Strung between them, like a clothesline, was a length of rope.
“JUMP!”
And with that, Castor and Ripley sprang up from the mass of moon moles, catching the rope, in Castor’s case, with her tail.
The moon moles, unaware, motored on in a cloud of dust.
“Holy Althea Gibson, that was close,” Molly huffed, holding April’s ankles.
“WHOO HOO!” Ripley yipped, swinging around the rope.
“EASY EASY!” Mal called out, gripping the side of the arch tightly with her sort-of-free hand. “RIPLEY, the rope is attached to us!”
“WHOOPS!” Ripley somersaulted down onto the ground and threw her hands in the air. “RESCUE COMPLETE!”
Castor dropped down after her, landing lightly on her hind legs. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Now THAT,” April said, re-coiling her rope, “is what you call some pretty serious Lumberjane teamwork in ACTION!”
Molly looked at Castor. Castor was looking at her new vest. “Are you okay?” Molly asked her.
Castor gave a teeny tiny nod, brushing the dust off her fur.
“What was that?” Mal gasped.
Castor sighed. “They’re moon moles.”
Mal nodded. “Okay. Sure. Moon moles. That makes . . . sense?”
“Do you know why moon moles broke into our cabin?” Jo asked.
“Yeah, and why they would want to carry you away all cartoon style?” April added.
Castor looked at the ground. “They’re just doing what they’re told.”
Molly reached out and put her hand on Castor’s back. “Told by who, Castor?”
“My mother.”
CHAPTER 23
Rosie sat on her porch, a frothy nettle milkshake with honey in one hand, a copy of The Awesome Power of Famous Redheads in History in the other. It was nice to have a moment to reflect and relax, a rarity when you are the director of a place like Miss Qiunzella Thiskwin Penniquiqul Thistle Crumpet’s camp for Hardcore Lady-Types.
At any camp, on any occasion, a director is always putting out fires. Rosie hadn’t put out any fires that day, but she was holding a variety of strings and managing many boiling pots and had also spent the morning tracking down a creature that will be of significance later.
A very large creature.
So it was nice, that evening, to have a moment to look at the stars, to sip a beverage, to consider the mysteries of the universe and whatnot. Of course, it was going to be short lived, but it’s important to enjoy these things while you ca—
“Well, this is another fine mess your scouts have gotten into!” said a growly voice from the blackness just beyond the cabin.
“Good evening to you too, you old COOT,” Rosie said, taking a sip of her shake, savoring the nettle-y taste. “Care to expand on that?”
“When I was a director, there was no need to expand on anything.” A set of thick brown paws and a scruffy looking bear face stepped forward from the darkness, toward the porch, transforming in a puff of sparkle into the knobby hands and gnarled face of none other than the figure known as Bearwoman.
Although, as Rosie knew, that wasn’t her actual name.
“Times have changed,” Rosie sighed. “Care to share your concerns?”
“HUMPH, concerns?” Bearwoman pushed her hands onto her hips. “I’m not CONCERNED. I just happened to be out in the woods doing something that’s none of your business, and I noticed a small army of moon moles huffing about in the dark. Lost as usual. I thought you should know, as camp director.”
Moon moles are not known for their sense of direction on land. A moon mole will happily burrow its way through the core of a planet before asking for directions to the store.
Not that a moon mole has any use for a store. They’d rather pillage than buy.
Rosie raised an eyebrow. “Moon moles, you say.”
“Moon moles I DO say,” Bearwoman huffed, glaring from behind the thick panes of her very thick spectacles. “And what do you plan to DO about that?”
Rosie stood up. “I will speak to my scouts.”
“You know that moon moles means more than just moon moles.”
Rosie did know this.
Moon moles are like pancakes and maple syrup, like Jo and April.
One went with the other. In this case, moon moles went with trouble.
“Oh yes,” Rosie said.
“Then I guess you’ve got a handle on it, as usual.” Bear-woman’s voice dripped with what served as sarcasm for a woman who was also a bear.
And with that, Bearwoman stepped back into the darkness and disappeared into the night, leaving Rosie with a problem to solve.
RIDDLE ME THIS
“Smack-Dab in the Riddle”
For a Lumberjane, life is full of problems—and solutions.
Some problems, like floods or fires, are physical, and others, like riddles, are a matter of the mind.
The key is to remember that for every problem there is a solution, just as every solution comes with a problem.
The goal is to know what kind of problem you are facing and what is required to solve it. Is it a math problem? Will it require a calculator, slide ruler, or protractor?
Or is it a problem where the solution will involve cunning and concentration, an awareness of all the possibilities at play, some of which will present themselves quickly and others only when . . .
CHAPTER 24
The next morning, Jo slipped out of the cabin before anyone was awake. She stepped out into the early-morning sun, onto the grass covered in glittery pearls of morning dew.
The letter weighed heavily in her pocket. It was quiet, possibly because it was tired out after going on all night, repeating the same argument over and over like a radio ad:
S.T.A.A.R. TODAY! SCIENTIST TOMORROW! YOU KNOW IT’S YOUR DESTINY.
It was getting louder every day.
I’m getting louder, the letter insisted, because you know I’m right, Jo.
Jo?
“Jo?”
Jo swiveled and saw Castor standing in t
he grass. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Oh.” Jo dropped her hands by her sides. “You’re not. I just. I’m just walking. Nowhere.”
“For fun?” Castor asked.
“Uh.” Jo looked at her feet. “No, actually.”
“I don’t suppose you would fancy a boat ride?” Castor asked.
“Oh.” Jo shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
At the dock, Jo held up an oar. “Rowboat okay?”
“Sure,” Castor said. “I’m curious to see how this ‘oar’ functions to move a craft like this on one of your lakes.”
“There aren’t lakes in Saskatchewan?”
There are many Lumberjane badges available relating to boat safety and nautical awareness (including: Naval Gauging, Keepin’ It Reel, and Seal of Approval, to name just a few). Also, being on water in a craft designed to float on water is just really fun, as long as you are SAFE and wearing a life preserver.
Jen would want to add that.
WEAR YOUR LIFE PRESERVER.
Jo found a preserver that didn’t completely engulf Castor, and the two of them pushed a small rowboat out onto the lake, which that day was clear and blue and sparkling.
While Jo rowed, Castor gripped the edge of the boat with her claws and leaned over to look at the water. She reached down and stuck a tiny claw into the lake, cutting through the surface with no more pressure than a three-eyed water skater.
At first it was quiet; just the sound of Castor and Jo, little fishes swimming, the bow of the boat cutting smoothly through the still waters of the lake.
Toward the middle of the lake, Castor turned to face Jo.
“I have to tell you something,” Castor said. “Actually, I have to tell you all. I told Ripley last night and, well, you’re awake, I thought I might as well tell you too.”
“Okay,” Jo said.
“I’m not here on vacation,” Castor said, plainly. “And I’m not from Saskatchewan.”
“Sure,” Jo said, unsurprised.
Castor sat up, shoving her preserver to the side so she could look at Jo. “I’m a moon pirate.”
Lumberjanes: The Moon Is Up Page 7