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.”
