Joss Whedon created Buffy. L.M. Montgomery created Jane. I created this.
A stunned silence reigned over the small knot of teenagers as they regarded the pile of dust.
“Anyone know what that was?” Polly asked shakily.
It was the end of the summer, time for the Stuarts to shut up Lantern Hill for the winter and return to Toronto, so of course the young fry had decided to have a glorious bonfire on the beach the evening before Jane had to leave by way of a send-off.
“Something worse than a lion, anyhow,” said Punch decidedly. “Say, Jane, how’d you know what to do?”
Whatever it was had looked like a man when he approached to ask directions. They’d all thought he was one of the people staying at the hotel at Harbour Head, and thought nothing of it- until his face had changed
and he had tried to bite Min. Min had screamed bloody murder. The boys had been all for set for a fight, but Jane had felt a strange certainty they wouldn’t be able to beat the man. So she had taken care of the situation.
“Did you just ask Jane how she knew the thing to do?” Ding-dong Bell said scornfully.
“Whatever it was frighted you out of what wits you had.”
“Jane always knows what to do,” Jody said serenely.
Jane herself was curiously calm, though perhaps less calm than it seemed to her chums. She was glad no one else seemed to think an answer to Punch’s question was necessary, because the honest answer was she didn’t know how it was she’d known to grab a piece of driftwood intended for the fire and stab the man assaulting Min- much less where she’d found the strength to actually put the well-weathered wood into his chest. And surely it wasn’t normal for a man, instead of bleeding to death, to turn into a puff of fine ashes that floated gently down to the sand.
“Just think what people will say when we tell them about this!” Ding-dong exclaimed gleefully. “It’s like Punch said, this is better than a lion.”
Jane thought, but knew better than to say, that she thought the thing had been considerably more dangerous than that tame old lion. And she had a feeling it was not the last one she would be seeing.
“Oh, hush. You two didn’t do anything about the lion,” Caraway snapped. “And we ain’t telling anyway. Are we, Jane?”
Jane shook her head decisively.
“No,” she said. “We’re not.”