After Quinn explained about Scout Skunk, Abigail raised her wine glass one last time for a final sip and toast. Just as the glass touched her lips, a sudden knock at the door made her jump. Startled, the glass slipped from her hand, dropped to the floor, and spilled what was left of the wine. Although Abigail was caught off guard, Quinn remained calm and motioned her to answer the door.

Hesitating, Abigail approached the door. The moment it swung open, her eyes widened in astonishment. Standing on the threshold were four exuberant groundhogs and a familiar-looking skunk. Glancing nervously down the hallway, Abigail quickly ushered the unexpected visitors inside, hoping no neighbors had seen this curious assembly.

Beauregard and Abigail recognized each other at once. Despite seven years since their last goodbye and time leaving its mark on them both, the sparks of recognition and affection were immediate, and they embraced in a warm hug. As for the skunk, there was no mistaking those brilliant stripes; he was indeed Sebastian’s son.

With his arms crossed and a grin across his face, Buckeye Chuck gave a knowing nod. “Knew this’d be a feel-good moment.” Punxsutawney Phil shifted from paw to paw. “Touching and all, but maybe we should focus on why we’re here. Time’s not exactly on our side.” Pierre Shadeaux, with his usual Cajun flair, dabbed at his eye with a silk pawkerchief and whispered, “Ah, l’amour… she is timeless.” Then Scout, with his tail flicking in delight, looked up at Quinn and said, “Told you she’d remember him.”

QUINN: “Right you are, Scout! But Punxsutawney Phil is also correct—we have no time to waste, so let’s get down to business.”

ABIGAIL: “Thanks, Quinn, for making this meeting a reality. I presume my alter ego—Dylan—knew exactly what she was doing when she gave you the map to my apartment. Dylan didn’t just expect adventures along the way; she intended them. In fact, she knew precisely what those adventures would be—and somehow made sure they unfolded just as they did.”

I’m saying that Dylan meant for Quinn to find each of you important animal allies—to help me with what must happen next. We must protect the rivers, their precious but dwindling water, the air, and our earth. Dylan’s counting on us.”

QUINN: “Precisely, Abigail. Dylan may have set the course, but we must follow the road wherever it may lead. And from what I’ve seen, you all have been chosen for a reason. The River’s fate—and maybe more—depends on how well we listen, how bravely we act, and how deeply we care. So, let’s begin.”

ABIGAIL: “Now, while you three groundhogs are seasoned meteorologists and expert underground engineers, Scout here… well, Scout is quite the diplomat. No surprise there—his father, Sebastian Skunk, trained him well. I’ve begun to shape a plan, and once it’s solidified, the four of you will be essential to making it happen.”

QUINN: “Okay, Abigail, and that brings us to what comes next—helping you finalize that plan. So listen up, everyone. Our environment is collapsing faster than even the worst forecasts predicted. That means we don’t have the luxury of wandering down multiple paths. There are many interrelated problems, and we only have limited time and resources. So, to figure out where we focus our efforts, we need to help Abigail collect her thoughts. The best way to do that? An interview—investigative reporter style. You ready, Abigail?”

ABIGAIL: “Yes, I’m ready. I’ve put the pieces together, Quinn—but I haven’t yet decided which path makes the most sense. There are several, and each one carries risk. I need clarity now, and that’s where you come in. Ask your questions. Help me think this through. Because the right plan is in front of us… we just have to uncover it together.”

QUINN: “You’ve fought this before—back when Sebastian earned his stripes by leading the First Skunk Troop and driving the land-men off your land. So here’s my next question, Abigail … If those tactics worked once, why not now? What has changed?

ABIGAIL: “What’s changed is the scale. Back then, we were dealing with land leases, a few bulldozers, and men with clipboards. Now we’re staring down pipelines that can stretch for miles carrying methane to feed petrochemical plants that make plastic.”

QUINN: “Allow me to elaborate. I understand that what began as land destruction to extract natural gas for energy—has lost some of its appeal, and the industry now has a new way to grow its business. They can make a different product by separating out the methane in the natural gas.”

ABIGAIL: “You got it, and, as I said, that product is plastic. There’s an old Native American story—one Dylan once told me—about a black snake that would slither across the land, bringing fire and destruction in its wake. And when it reached the heart of the earth, that would be the beginning of the end.

Stay tuned for my next blog post!