This was going to work. This was going to work! By the time they'd gotten the first furrow plowed around the area containing the fire, Lottie felt her spirits rise. The flames were not spreading as fast as she'd feared, and they now had at least one defensive line down. If worse came to worst, they could get some wet burlap sacks and beat out any little sparks that jumped the plowed ditch. They weren't going to have to though, because they were going to make a second furrow!
Lottie turned the horse, still a little awkward in handling the animal with the piece of farm equipment attached to him. She thought she was sort of starting to get the hang of it though. Idun leading the horse was what had kept them on track, however, and Philotes totally recognized that fact. For her, plowing was a two-person-one-horse job. It was a good thing she wasn't an agricultural goddess.
“Alright,” she nodded, “one more pass around, this one a few feet outside the first one. That way if sparks jump, they won't have much to burn before they die out. This is--”
She broke off abruptly, because the itch and scratch inside her skirt was moving and Friendship could no longer ignore the fact that something was crawling about in her petticoats. She'd managed to not think too deeply about it while they were plowing the first furrow, too focused on getting that done before anything else. But the movement was wiggling upwards and she couldn't help but react.
With quiet squeal, she dropped the reins and with both hands began pulling up layers of fabric to find whatever was in there. It only took a moment to locate the directionally-challenged chipmunk clinging to the inside of one of her petticoats. Lottie pried him off, though he tried to hold onto the material. “You are problematic and I don't have time for this. Can't you see we're having a crisis?”
With that, she hurriedly brushed her skirts down then shoved the striped rodent in her pocket. If he didn't want to stay there, there was little she could do about it, but that was more comfortable for her than having him rustling about her underthings. Lottie picked up the reins again and muttered, “Alright, let's be heroes and save the day. Night. Whatever.”
Whether she was talking to the horse, or to Idun, or to herself, Lottie wasn't even sure. But it was easier to concentrate on being heroic than it was to admit that they'd been the cause of the problem to begin with.