Page 41 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

Eddie, of course, had something to add. “Look, if she’s sticking around long enough to start naming backup raccoons, she needs to carry. End of story.”

I disappeared into the cabin before either of them could argue further and headed straight for the gun stash. If I was goingto help, I needed more than expired sardines and raccoon diplomacy.

Outside, their voices got quieter as Eddie shifted into full survival mode, listing traps as if he were preparing for war. I caught snippets through the screen door.

“I’ve got bear traps set east of your perimeter,” he was saying, calm and focused now. “There are also rope nets and wire snares. But the real prize is the tripwires. High tension and steel coil, not that fishing line garbage.”

I peeked out the window and saw Webb nodding as if he were mentally mapping everything out. Then Eddie pulled something from his duffel—a black canister with a weird little trigger on it.

“What is that?” I heard Webb ask.

“Homemade bear spray grenades,” Eddie replied. “Pull and roll. They’ll mess up anyone dumb enough to come through the trees.”

There was a pause, then Webb’s cautious voice asked, “Is that even legal?”

“Nope, but it's effective.”

By the time I emerged back onto the porch, they were deep in conversation about a group of men spotted in town. Their shiny trucks and too many questions painted bad news in clear letters.

I figured that was my cue. It was wicked, but it was also pertinent to what we'd been discussing earlier, so it was a win-win.

“I picked the lightest one!” I announced proudly, waving the gun like a prize from a fairground. “Didn’t want something heavy pulling down my yoga pants!”

Their reaction was immediate and dramatic—Webb ducked behind a tree as if I’d just pulled the pin on a grenade, and Eddie practically leaped behind a branch like it was a bomb shelter.

“Gabby!” Webb barked. “Watch the muzzle!”

“What? I’m just holding it!”

“You’reswingingit!”

“I am not!”

Eddie crouched lower, muttering like his soul had briefly left his body. “I swear I just saw my life flash before my eyes. I thought you were meant to be okay with guns, woman!”

Fine, maybe I’d been a little too enthusiastic with the demo I'd put on for them. I froze dramatically, then raised the pistol vertically like a baton in a parade. “Okay, better?”

Both of them cautiously peeked out like I was a rabid squirrel with a bazooka.

“Better,” Webb agreed slowly. “Just don’t wave it around like it’s a damn hairbrush.”

“Is the safety on?” Eddie called, staring at the gun as if it were sentient.

I frowned and held it closer to my face. “The what?”

“Thesafety!” he practically screeched. “Little switch that stops it from firing!”

I squinted. “How will I know if it’s on?”

Both of them groaned like synchronized dads.

“If it’s showing red,” Webb called out, “it’s off. Covered means it’s safe.”

I flicked the switch and nodded. “Okay, Ithinkit’s safe now.”

“Youthink?” Eddie shouted, his voice rising a full octave.

I glanced up in time to see the look that passed between them—Webb with that sinking expression that meant he was regretting his entire life, whilst Eddie shook his head like I was a one-woman chaos engine.

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