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The late May sun hangs high over Qyah, casting a brilliant, crisp light across the gravel lot of the Tribal Hall. At nearly thirteen, Molly Mabray feels the weight of the changing seasons in the sudden, bursting warmth of the Alaskan spring—and today, that warmth is being channeled into earning a wilderness clean-up badge. She stands near the front steps, her notebook tucked under her arm, her enthusiastic gaze tracking her boyfriend, Tooey Ookami. They have been official for six months now, a quiet but steady shift from best friends to something sweeter, and Molly still finds herself smiling just looking at him.
Tooey, ever the patient anchor to Molly’s spontaneous energy, is currently adjusting his cap, his dark eyes crinkling with a cheerful smile as he listens to Travis. Travis, with his characteristic over-the-top enthusiasm, has volunteered to mentor the kids—including a fiercely determined Trini—for their badge. Unfortunately, Travis’s definition of "cleaning up" doesn't exactly align with the standard environmental manual.
"Behold!" Travis proclaims, gesturing wildly to a patch of vibrant fireweed and native brush near the woodpile. "True wilderness beauty requires curation, guys! We aren't just clearing trash; we are styling nature!"
Before Molly can utter a word of protest, Travis pulls out a massive, questionable canister of industrial foam sealant and a bottle of neon-pink, biodegradable "eco-paint" he ordered online. Within minutes, Travis’s idea of beautification transforms the rustic edge of the woods into a chaotic, sticky disaster zone. He accidentally triggers the sealant, sending a massive plume of expanding white goo over a pile of pristine birch logs, while aiming a stream of pink paint directly at a patch of rare local ferns.
"Oh, no, no, no," Trini mutters, her eyes wide as she darts backward to avoid the overspray. "That is definitely going to ruin the local ecosystem."
Molly lunges forward, her native name Shahnyaa—the one who informs us—feeling particularly relevant right now. "Travis, wait! That foam looks like it has dioxygen difluoride byproducts or something—it's practically foof! It's going to ruin the soil chemistry!"
Travis pauses, blinking at the canister. "Foof? Is that a technical term, Molly?"
"It means it's a disaster!" Molly corrects quickly, swapping a panicked look with Tooey.
They need to clean this up before the chemicals cure under the sun, but Travis is too busy trying to scrape the goo with a shovel, only spreading the mess further. Molly catches Tooey’s eye and tilts her head toward the edge of the porch, signaling a rapid tactical retreat. Tooey nods instantly, his loyal, dog-whisperer intuition reading her perfectly. They huddle with Trini behind the safely distant tool shed.
"We need to scrape off the foam and wash down the ferns before the paint dries," Molly whispers urgently, her hands gesturing rapidly. "But Travis won't let us touch it if he's supervising. Someone has to get him away from the woodpile."
"I'll do it," Tooey volunteers, a mischievous but steady glint in his eyes. "I’ll distract him. You and Trini grab the scrapers and the water buckets."
"Be careful, Little Wolf," Molly murmurs, using her favorite nickname for him, her heart doing a small, familiar flutter.
Tooey jogs back into the open lot, his face instantly contorting into a mask of pure, unadulterated panic. "Travis! *Travis!* Look out! On the woodpile! Is that a... a giant boreal wolf spider?!"
Travis drops the foam canister with a clatter, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. "Where?! Tooey, where?!"
"Right there! It's huge! It's jumping!" Tooey yells, executing a perfectly dramatic leap. In a flash of teenage adrenaline, Tooey springs forward and scrambles right up Travis’s torso. Travis yelps, instinctively catching Tooey by the thighs as the twelve-year-old hitches himself up onto the older man’s shoulders. In the chaos, Tooey’s hands fly forward, clamping firmly and entirely over Travis’s eyes. "I think it’s on your hat, Travis! Don't look! Stand perfectly still! No, wait, walk backward! Walk away from the danger zone!"
"I can't see, Tooey! I can't see!" Travis wails, stumbling blindly across the gravel lot like a confused grizzly bear, his hands gripping Tooey’s ankles for dear life.
"Just trust me! Left! No, your other left!" Tooey yells, suppressing a grin as he guides Travis in ridiculous, wide circles around the opposite side of the Tribal Hall, completely blinding him.
With the target successfully moved, Molly and Trini spring into action. "Go, go, go!" Molly cheers under her breath. They grab the heavy-duty scrub brushes and buckets of water. For twenty grueling minutes, the two girls work furiously. Molly uses a flat trowel to slice away the expanding "foof" foam before it can permanently bond to the birch bark, while Trini uses a gentle, wet cloth to dissolve the biodegradable pink paint from the delicate fronds of the ferns. They work in perfect, frantic harmony, restoring the natural beauty of the wilderness badge site.
Finally, Molly wipes her brow with the back of her sleeve, breathing a sigh of relief. The woodpile is clean, the ferns are uninjured, and the messy chemical threat is safely bagged up.
"I'll go get our boys," Molly tells Trini, a bright grin breaking across her face.
She walks around the corner of the Tribal Hall and stops dead in her tracks. The sight before her is absolute comedy gold. Travis is completely exhausted, sweating profusely as he stumbles over a small tuft of grass, while Tooey is still perched atop his shoulders like a triumphant king, his hands stubbornly locked over Travis's forehead and eyes. Tooey looks weary but fiercely dedicated to the bit. Molly bursts into a warm, ringing laugh, the sound echoing off the wooden walls of the hall. It is a joyful, unbridled sound that instantly cuts through the tension.
"Okay, okay, the coast is clear!" Molly calls out, stepping closer to the ridiculous duo. "The giant, imaginary wolf spider has officially retreated into the woods, guys."
Tooey lets out a massive sigh of relief and unclamps his hands. Travis blinks rapidly in the bright May sunlight, groaning as he carefully lowers Tooey back down to the solid gravel earth. Tooey stumbles slightly as his feet hit the ground, his legs a bit cramped from the prolonged ride. Before he can lose his balance, Molly steps right into his space. She gently disentangles him from Travis's lingering, dramatic grip and reaches down, sliding her fingers securely into Tooey's hand. Her palm is warm, and the familiar, grounding touch instantly centers him.
"You are an amazing distractor," Molly says softly, her eyes shining with affection as she looks up at him.
Tooey squeezes her hand back, a proud, cheerful smile spreading across his face. "Anything for the badge. And for you."
"Come on," Molly says, tugging him gently forward while keeping their fingers intertwined.
She leads both Tooey and a thoroughly bewildered Travis around the corner to show off the immaculate, truly beautified, and safely cleaned-up wilderness site.