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Rated: E · Fiction · Nature · #2317873
When you have to rescue yourself
The air had a crisp bite to it when she awoke, stretched, and found herself perched on the branch of an oak tree. She patted the rough bark and sighed.

“Oh, dear. I should have realized the pu-erh tea was a smidgen too strong for a night of camping out.” She brushed at her long skirts. “The question is, why would my lovely friends leave me in such a predicament…oh!

A sleek feline emerged beneath her dangling feet. "It all makes perfect sense, now. As my friends have fled for their very lives, it looks as if I shall have to rescue myself.” She reached for her phone. Although the device was a terrible time waster, she had to admit it was a handy piece of technology, especially for times like these. There was a quick search through bare pockets before she glanced down to catch a glint of light reflecting off the forest floor.

“Of course it would land in the most inconvenient location. Well, this self-rescue shall be a job, indeed! As I always say, ‘In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun, and - SNAP - the job's a game!’. And since it appears my bag of tricks is at hand…” she reached to grab a well worn satchel snagged on the limb. Pulling the handles apart, she reached into the bag and pulled out a coat hanger.

“Hm. This won’t do at all.” She tossed the hanger to the ground and dipped her hand into the bag again to pull out a lamp, a long measuring tape, and a kitchen chair. She frowned and let the items drop, one by one, next to the hanger. The cougar, surrounded by random household objects, snarled and backed up a step. Thrusting her hand deeper into the bag she fumbled until she grasped…

“A potted plant? Come now!” she gave the bag a good shake. “We aren’t putting on a show for children. You know very well what I’m looking for! Spit-spot!

Another blind plunge, a bite of the lip, and her eyes gleamed in triumph as she carefully and slowly tugged out a raw steak. She caught the cat’s attention before letting the bloody meat fall from her fingertips. The beast caught the sirloin in his mouth and immediately turned away with his prize.

“And now to get my feet safely on the ground again.” She reached into her bag, pulled out an umbrella, and popped it open. With a firm hold on her bag she stepped from the branch and gently floated to the littered forest floor.

“Mustn’t leave behind a mess,” she trilled at a staring finch. One by one, the discarded items were returned to her satchel. She lifted the measuring tape and, unable to help herself, held it against her body.

“As I expected, Mary Poppins, practically perfect in every way.” She nodded, hooked the umbrella onto the bag, and marched away through the trees.





First of all, I would like to make one thing clear: I never explain anything.
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