Monday. Practice.
Only today, the Jackalopes won't be practicing in the Warren. As soon as Coach told her who they'd be playing this Friday for the Owl County Cup, Talia knew normal practices simply weren't going to cut it. So she offered a suggestion.
Coach took her up on it.
That's how they all find themselves out here, in the Prophetwood, slightly to the south of suburban Jupiter, tall naked trees waving in the ruthless breeze around them. The Jackalopes left their bus and trailers by the side of the road a few miles back, choosing to navigate the rest of the way through the woods in their tubs. It's good practice for rough court terrain, anyway. Coach, Talia, and Artie follow close behind the jockeys. Artie seems to be having the most trouble traversing the area, his wheelchair getting caught on every root and divot imaginable.
Still, he's not the one complaining.
The comm at Talia's hip chirrups bleakly. "Can you explain to us what the hell we're actually doing out here?"
It's Sage Sawyer, of course.
Talia sighs, unhooking her comm and bringing it closer to her mouth. She speaks in a calm but authoritative tone. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Coach nodding in approval. This lifts her spirits.
"Do you remember last time we played the Octopi?" Talia says.
Sage groans. "Sure. We got our asses handed to us. But that was at the beginning of the season, like a million years ago. We're better than that now."
Talia shakes her head. "No, you're not. But I promise you, you will be, once this week of practice is through." She picks her way through the snowy underbrush, helping Artie along as best she can. The smell of wet wood permeates their surroundings.
But Talia knows they've nearly arrived at their destination. Just a few moments more.
"Ughh... This feels like the place where they'd take the old dog out back and shoot it." Sage grumbles over the comm.
"Hush."
Finally, they arrive. The Prophetwood circles a large lake. It's December now, so much of it is covered in a thin layer of ice. The water will be, without a doubt, unpleasantly cold.
Perfect for their purposes.
"Alright kids," it's Coach's turn to use the comm, "if you want the Cup, you gotta drink the water."
At first, the water is, without a doubt, unpleasantly cold.
Even though she's insulated by Jolly Roger's hull, Wendy can feel the chill sloshing against the tub. She plunged the Walkabout Matilda into the lake and is swimming with it back and forth, breaking up the thin layer of ice all around her. Wendy leans forward in her cockpit's seat, reading the various gauges and dials displayed before her on her dashboard. The temperature gauge is not pleased.
Wendy knows the feeling.
But she understands Coach and Talia's reasoning, at least. It was hard enough to play in the watery Percival Moon Memorial Court in Dulcet back in September. She can't imagine what it will be like in December. The Jackalopes have to prepare somehow.
And so they do.
Monday's practice is completely miserable. All their tubs' joints freeze up at various times, making movement impossible. By Tuesday's practice though, Artie manages to bring some heated tub oil with them to Prophetwood Lake, so whenever movement becomes too inhibited for the pulsesteel gargantuans, he can apply the oil to the affected area. A simple and long lasting fix. On Wednesday, Wendy begins manifesting impressive humors under the water on command. By Thursday, the Jackalopes are moving together almost as well as a synchronized diving team.
Bring on the Octopi...
***
Photo courtesy of Linda Xu on Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/@rhindaxu. Edited.