"Don't look too closely chaval, you'll knock yourself out."

Griselda's traders wore Aztec zoot suits. The patterns and colors seemed to vibrate, which made them seem kind of there and not there at the same time.

We met them in the parking lot behind the cafeteria. Their cars were big and shiny and old fashioned. "Oldsmobile" and "Chevrolet" they said on them.

"They're from Aztlán," Griselda said.

The giant tree shrews had produced a small mound of sacks, each one of them spilling over with crystals of all different colors. The traders from Aztlán were looking them over.

"Once we heard these guys asking around about crystals, we started collecting them. Filled all our tree holes full up! No room for the pups. Sorry about that."

The traders seemed satisfied with the pile of crystals. Attention turned to a pile of crates next to it.

"What was worth all this?" I asked Griselda.

Another of the giant tree shrews had opened up one of the boxes, and pulled out--

"Hammocks?" I asked, incredulously.

"Not just hammocks, but tents too. And some camp stoves."

"A pleasure doing business with you, dama," said the head zoot suit. "And once we get the network up, I see some deeeeep bandwidth in your future."

"Con honor," said Griselda.

"Such nice boys and girls," Griselda said as they drove off in their big old cars. The drove slowly, because the bottom of their cars scraped against the speedbumps.

I decided to stop by Griselda's tree hole first.

"Oh! Timothy! Just in time. Be a dear and give us a hand, won't you?"

Griselda and one of her sister cousins were dragging heavy gunnysacks across the forest floor beneath her tree. One of them had opened up and was spilling out what appeared to be rubies and diamonds or gems or something.

"Crystals," Griselda said. "Don't you worry yourself about it. Just doing a bit of housecleaning. Got to make room so we can get those pups out of your hair! Now, heave ho! It's only a little ways."

So I tied off the sack, hoisted it over my shoulder, and followed Griselda and her sister cousin through the pinewood in the afternoon.

I woke up refreshed, and ready to share my idea with Griselda.

"Uh, Griselda?"

Pups were still filling my treehouse. It was the preschool/summer camp crowd, mostly gathered in circles doing crafts and reading books. Amazingly well mannered, to be honest.

"Hey, is Griselda around?" I asked one near the door. Maybe she was just in the bathroom.

The little pup looked up. "Aunty Griselda is gone to meet the traders," she said. "Then we can all go home!"

"Yaaaaaaaaaay!" cried all the little pups in the room.

Traders? I didn't know the giant tree shrews had established trade routes.

"Where exactly does Aunty Griselda meet these traders?" I asked.

In the highest levels of the canopy, the forest is blissful. You can find a sturdy place to sling your hammock that catches the cool air of the night, and while the lights of the city are still in view, you rarely hear noises beyond the rare siren or witchfinder gangs on their hotrods.

Why not give the giant tree shrews their own hammocks? They've got five claws but no thumbs. Could they weave their own? Would it be within the Forest Prime Directive to teach them how? Would the pups be safe and not fall out?

So many thoughts. But it is a great place to sleep.

And then more pups showed up. And more.

Griselda said something about babysitting, and then about a preschool, and vacation bible camp. Her story kept changing. And when the parents would come for pickup they ended up staying.

The giant tree shrews form a kind of hypnogogic hive-mind while they're sleeping, and I found it extremely distracting. And hot, nuzzled in between the ocean of sleeping tree shrews that filled my treehouse, gently snoring.

I left my little structure and headed up into the canopy with a hammock slung over my shoulder.

"Hey thanks for letting my nieces and nephews crash here," Griselda said.

Her nieces and nephews weren't quite as big as Griselda, but they added up. Each one was about as big as a German Shepard. There seemed to be about a dozen.

"It's just so much cooler in your place than cooped up in a hole in a tree. This heat! Amirite?"

My treehouse was higher than most, almost right to the canopy. It had good air.

"Don't mind us," Griselda said. "You just make yourself right at home."

The Weasel Creek Kids share the woods with all the creatures of the forest. We all coexist under the canopy together. Those are our most basic tenets. But in the heat of the summer, when the life of the forest is in full swing, things can start feeling a little cramped.

"Hi Timothy! You don't mind if I crash here for a bit, right?"

It's Griselda, the Giant Tree Shrew.

"Sure Griselda. Make yourself at home."

Sigh.

MINUTES FROM THE WEEKLY MEETING OF THE WEASEL CREEK KIDS

"There'a no way we're getting in there."

"There's no way I wanna get in there."

"So do we have to get in there? Can't we solve this in some clever Weasel Creek Kids way without, like, getting poisoned?"

"I've got the clever Weasel Creek Kids plan, don't you worry," @Agatha Anatidae said. "And it involves one of our most powerful forest friends. But it depends on somebody getting on the inside of that abandoned toxic soda pop factory. Just one is all we need."

"Does it have to be a person? The young bucks from the Squirrel Scouts have been bugging me for some kind of action."

"We don't want to have to answer to any angry squirrel moms."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"I think I know someone," said @Samantha Spruce. "An old friend. Somebody who wants to pay back her debt to society..."

At the weekly meeting of the Weasel Creek Kids we usually talk about stuff like treehouse maintenance and the water system and the composting toilets. But now @Agatha Anatidae is saying we need to take up sides on this Ranger Rotten issue.

I don't like the idea of an undead forest ranger running a criminal gang in our woods any more than the next person, gut they've never caused us any trouble. We can't be some kind of forest police. Between keeping the treehouses running and homework and extracurricular activities at school, who's got the time? I say it's not our fight.