Shelana Huff was a cowboy, the kind who wore a hat even when there was no wind and kept her boots polished even when there was no mud. But her range was not a dusty prairie. Her range was the Moon.
On the Moon, the ground was pale and powdery, like flour you should not sneeze into. Craters sat in the distance like giant bowls, and the sky was so black it looked freshly painted. Above everything, Earth hung like a bright blue lantern.
Shelana rode a small, sturdy moon-rover she called Junebug. It didn’t neigh, but it did beep in a friendly way when she patted the dashboard.
“Easy, Junebug,” she said, guiding it along the rim of a crater. “We’re on a quiet patrol. No need to show off.”
Junebug beeped twice, which Shelana chose to interpret as: But I like showing off.
Shelana was brave, but she was also careful. She had learned that on the Moon, little mistakes could become big ones. Lose a glove, and your fingers would get cold fast. Forget a map, and every crater could start looking the same.
That was why she always carried three important things: a coil of silver rope, a pocket flashlight shaped like a cactus, and a star-map scarf with stitched constellations. It was a gift from her grandmother, who used to say, “You don’t just look at the sky, Shelana. You listen to it.”
Shelana didn’t fully understand how to listen to the sky yet, but she tried.
That night—Moon night, which is a long kind of night—Shelana noticed something strange. Near the edge of a wide, shallow crater called Mare Crinkle, a tall antenna tower blinked red, then sputtered, then went dark.
Shelana slowed Junebug. “That’s the Beacon Post,” she murmured. “It’s supposed to stay lit so travelers can find their way back.”
A beacon on the Moon wasn’t just helpful. It was important. If it stayed dark, someone could wander too far, or get turned around in the grey hills.
Shelana turned Junebug toward the tower. The rover crunched softly over moon-dust, and little puffs rose and floated lazily back down.
When she reached the post, she climbed out and looked up. The beacon was silent, its glass lens dull.
“Great,” Shelana said, hands on hips. “Now I’m the moon-cowboy who fixes things.”
A voice behind her answered, cheerful and quick. “Not just fixes. You’ll also probably save somebody. Time tends to put emergencies in your path.”
Shelana spun around, her hand already hovering near her rope, just in case. A figure stood there in a suit that looked patched together from different eras: shiny panels like a spaceship, a scarf like an old explorer, and a wrist device that blinked like a tiny clock.
Shelana narrowed her eyes. “Who are you, partner?”
The figure gave a bow that was half polite and half playful. “I’m a Time Traveler. Most people call me Tavi, because it’s easier to shout when you’re falling into a history mistake.”
Shelana blinked. “You’re… a time traveler. On the Moon.”
Tavi nodded as if this was completely normal. “The Moon is a very tidy place to jump through time. Fewer trees to crash into.”
Shelana looked around. “And how did you sneak up on me? My helmet sensors didn’t even beep.”
Tavi tapped the wrist device. “Temporal hush-mode. It quiets the ‘I’m here!’ part of me. Not always polite, but sometimes necessary.”
Shelana didn’t like surprises. But she did like folks who spoke plainly.
“Alright, Tavi,” she said. “You know why the beacon is dark?”
Tavi’s grin faded to something more serious. “Yes. Something stole the Moonbeam Core.”
Shelana’s eyebrows rose. “The what?”
Tavi stepped closer to the base of the tower and pointed to a hatch. “Inside this beacon there’s a small crystal cylinder. It catches moonbeams and stores them. That stored glow powers the light for weeks. Without it, the beacon is just a fancy pole.”
Shelana crouched and opened the hatch. The inside was neat and empty, with a slot shaped exactly like a cylinder.
She whistled. “So we’re gathering moonbeams, or retrieving the core?”
“Retrieving,” Tavi said. “Someone took it. Someone wrapped in bandages, shuffling like a bad idea.”
Shelana felt a chill that had nothing to do with temperature. “A mummy?”
Tavi nodded. “A Mummy who wakes up when it senses bright light. Beacon-light, moonlight, any light that feels like a treasure. It collects glow the way some people collect coins.”
Shelana stood. “If the mummy wants glow, it picked the wrong night to steal from my post.”
Tavi tilted their head. “Confident.”
Shelana shrugged. “I’m not the fastest rider on the Moon. But I’m stubborn. And I’m loyal to my territory.” She looked toward the crater fields. “Where’d it go?”
Tavi pointed with the certainty of someone who had seen too much to doubt. “Toward the Whisper Ridges. There’s an old landing site there, half-buried. The mummy likes the quiet tunnels under it.”
Shelana climbed back into Junebug and patted the dashboard. “Junebug, we’ve got a chase.”
Junebug beeped a long, excited note.
Tavi hopped onto the back platform with surprising balance. “I’ll navigate. You drive.”
Shelana glanced back. “You sure you’re not going to vanish into yesterday?”
“Not unless I press the wrong button,” Tavi said. “And I promise I only press wrong buttons on Tuesdays.”
Shelana didn’t know what day it was on the Moon, but she decided not to ask.
They rolled out across the open grey plains. The Moon’s horizon was gentle and close, like the world had curled up for a nap. Shadows stretched long and sharp. Every rock looked like it had a secret.
As they traveled, Shelana noticed something else: thin streaks in the dust, like someone had dragged a heavy sack.
“Tracks,” she said.
Tavi leaned down. “Bandage fibers,” they confirmed, plucking a tiny thread. It looked like pale cloth. “Definitely mummy.”
Shelana kept one hand steady on the controls and one finger ready over the cactus flashlight. “So what do we do if we find it?”
Tavi’s eyes gleamed. “We do not punch it. Bandages are deceiving. You pull one, the rest gets angry.”
Shelana huffed. “I wasn’t planning to punch anything. I’m a cowboy, not a… bandage boxer.”
They reached the Whisper Ridges, a place where the ground rose in folds and cracks. Wind didn’t howl on the Moon, but the rocks made sounds anyway—tiny ticks and creaks as they cooled, like whispers from old metal.
Junebug slowed as the path narrowed.
“Careful,” Shelana said. “One wrong turn and we end up in a crater bowl.”
Tavi pointed to a dip between two ridges. “There. The old landing site.”
It looked like a forgotten campsite for giants: a broken ring of metal, a half-buried door, and scattered panels like fallen cards. An opening yawned under a slanted slab.
Shelana parked Junebug and checked her rope. “We go in together. No wandering.”
Tavi nodded, suddenly very serious. “Agreed.”
They walked to the opening. The darkness inside was deeper than ordinary darkness, as if it drank the starlight. Shelana clicked on her cactus flashlight. A soft green beam spilled forward.
The tunnel sloped down. Their footsteps were quiet on powdery dust.
Then Shelana saw it: a faint glow ahead, like a captured moonbeam trying to escape.
She whispered, “That’s the core.”
Tavi whispered back, “And that’s the mummy.”
At the end of the tunnel was a wide chamber with old equipment stacked like forgotten furniture. In the middle stood the Mummy.
It was tall and lumpy, wrapped in long, dusty bandages. Between the layers, a pale light leaked out. In its hands it cradled the Moonbeam Core like a precious egg.
The mummy swayed slightly, listening.
Shelana held her breath. Tavi did too.
The mummy’s head turned, slow and creaky, toward the cactus flashlight.
“Uh-oh,” Tavi mouthed.
The mummy shuffled forward, arms raised, as if the light itself pulled it.
Shelana backed up one step, then another. Her heart thumped hard. She was brave, but she was not reckless.
“Okay,” she said softly, thinking fast. “It wants light. So we give it light… but not the core.”
Tavi’s eyebrows lifted. “How?”
Shelana touched her star-map scarf. “My grandma said listen to the sky. Maybe it’s time I try.”
That sounded poetic, but Shelana was mostly stalling while her brain worked.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small tin of “trail sparkles.” They were tiny reflective flakes she used to mark paths in the dust. Under a flashlight, they glittered bright.
Shelana poured a small line of sparkles on the ground, leading away from the chamber, curving toward a side corridor.
Then she aimed her cactus flashlight at the sparkles and swept the beam slowly, making the flakes shimmer like moving stars.
The mummy paused. Its head tilted. The glow seemed to interest it more than the steady light.
Tavi leaned close. “You’re making a fake constellation trail.”
Shelana whispered, “Cowboys herd. Sometimes you herd cattle, sometimes you herd trouble.”
The mummy took a slow step toward the shimmering trail.
Shelana kept the beam moving, guiding the glitter like a lasso made of light.
The mummy followed.
Tavi whispered, “It’s working.”
But just as they began to slip back, the mummy’s bandages snagged on a broken panel. The mummy yanked free with a rough tug.
The Moonbeam Core slipped.
It rolled across the dusty floor toward a crack in the ground.
Shelana’s eyes widened. “No!”
She lunged, boots kicking up powder, and slid on one knee. She stretched out her arm.
Her glove brushed the cylinder—cold, smooth, humming faintly.
But it kept rolling.
Shelana reacted without thinking. She flicked her silver rope forward, a perfect cowboy toss.
The loop landed around the core with a soft clink.
Shelana pulled gently, like reeling in a careful fish.
The core slid back into her hand.
She exhaled. “Gotcha.”
The mummy let out a sound like a dry sigh. It turned, realizing its treasure was gone.
It shuffled toward Shelana, faster now.
Tavi stepped between them, raising both hands. “Hey! We can negotiate! We are very reasonable time-people!”
Shelana grabbed Tavi’s sleeve and pulled them back. “No negotiation with bandage burglars.”
She glanced around. There was a metal ladder leading upward, toward a hatch. It might lead outside.
“Up!” she said.
They ran. The mummy followed, drawn by the flashlight beam and the glow leaking from the core in Shelana’s grip.
Shelana climbed the ladder, the core tucked under one arm. Tavi climbed right behind.
The hatch at the top was stuck.
Shelana gritted her teeth. “Of course it is.”
Tavi pressed their wrist device to the latch. “I can speed up the rust.”
Shelana blinked. “You can do what?”
“Time travel isn’t only for big jumps,” Tavi said quickly. “Sometimes it’s for small nudges.”
The device buzzed. The latch aged in seconds: rust bloomed, then flaked, then crumbled.
The hatch popped open.
Cold starlight spilled in.
They scrambled out onto the surface, tumbling onto the grey dust.
Behind them, the mummy’s hands gripped the edge of the hatch.
Shelana scooted back, holding the core tightly. She didn’t want to hurt the mummy, but she couldn’t let it chase them forever.
Tavi looked around, eyes darting. “We need a way to calm it. It’s not evil in a clever way. It’s greedy in a lonely way.”
Shelana frowned. “Lonely?”
Tavi nodded. “It wakes up underground, in the dark. It sees light and thinks, Mine. Light means company. Light means warmth. Light means… not being forgotten.”
Shelana’s shoulders softened a bit. She still didn’t like the mummy, but she understood the feeling of not wanting to be left behind.
The mummy climbed out fully, standing in the open.
It froze, blinking—if a mummy could blink—because the Moon’s surface was bright with reflected Earthlight.
It raised its arms as if to scoop the pale glow.
Shelana had an idea.
She pointed to the ridge line. “Tavi, does the old landing site have any reflective panels left?”
Tavi followed her gaze. “Yes. Shiny enough to bounce light.”
Shelana nodded. “Then we make it a lantern house. We give it a place to keep light without stealing the beacon core.”
Tavi’s mouth opened, impressed. “A trade.”
Shelana approached slowly, holding the core at her side and keeping her other hand open.
“Hey,” she called, voice steady. “Mister Mummy. Or Miss Mummy. Or Captain Bandages. Listen.”
The mummy turned its head toward her.
Shelana spoke like she spoke to skittish animals. “This core isn’t yours. It belongs to the Beacon Post. But… I can get you something else.”
The mummy swayed, as if it didn’t understand words, only light.
Shelana lifted her cactus flashlight and shone it onto a large reflective panel half-buried nearby. The beam bounced and spread, making a wide, soft glow.
The mummy leaned toward it.
Tavi hurried to help, dragging another panel into position.
Shelana continued. “We’ll build you a glow corral. You can keep the light here. Plenty of it. But you have to stop grabbing what isn’t yours.”
The mummy’s bandages fluttered slightly as it shuffled closer to the reflected glow.
Tavi whispered, “It’s listening in its own way.”
Together, Shelana and Tavi arranged panels in a half-circle, like a small open hut. When Shelana shone her flashlight into it, the light bounced around and filled the space, brighter than before.
The mummy stepped inside.
It lowered its arms slowly, as if hugging the brightness.
Shelana watched carefully. “Now,” she said softly, “we return the core.”
She backed away, keeping her movements calm.
They reached Junebug and hurried back across the ridges to the Beacon Post. The ride felt faster, as if the Moon itself wanted the beacon relit.
When they arrived, Shelana jumped out, opened the hatch, and slid the Moonbeam Core into its slot.
The beacon hummed.
A moment later, the lens at the top flashed, then steadied into a strong, friendly light that reached across the grey plains.
Shelana smiled. “There you go. Welcome back.”
Tavi leaned against Junebug, relieved. “You did it. And you didn’t even have to wrestle a mummy.”
Shelana tipped her hat. “I prefer my adventures without wrestling, if I can help it.”
The beacon’s light shone in a slow rotation, sweeping the landscape.
In the distance, far beyond Mare Crinkle, a tiny rover—smaller than Junebug—paused, then turned toward the beacon as if it had been lost and just found the right direction.
Shelana’s eyes widened. “See that?”
Tavi nodded. “Traveler. The beacon mattered.”
Shelana felt a warm pride rise in her chest. Not just because she fixed the post, but because someone out there would get home safe.
Junebug beeped, which sounded like: Good job, boss.
Tavi clapped once. “Reward time. Cowboys like rewards. Time Travelers like rewards. Even mummies like rewards, though theirs are inconvenient.”
Shelana crossed her arms. “What kind of reward are we talking about?”
Tavi reached into a pocket that looked too small to hold anything and pulled out a compact metal case. On it was a sticker that read: DO NOT OPEN IN THE WRONG CENTURY.
Shelana gave Tavi a look.
Tavi shrugged. “I opened it in the correct century. Mostly.”
Inside was a badge—bright silver, shaped like a star, with tiny etched craters around the edges. In the center, it read: LUNAR RANGE MARSHAL.
Shelana’s mouth fell open.
Tavi held it out. “Official, more or less. I may have borrowed the design from a future museum gift shop, but the title is perfect for you.”
Shelana took the badge carefully, as if it might float away.
“It’s… shiny,” she said, trying not to sound too excited.
Tavi grinned. “It’s moon-grade shiny. The best kind. It won’t tarnish, even if you roll in dust.”
Shelana pinned it to her suit. The metal caught the beacon’s light and flashed.
She stood a little taller. “Lunar Range Marshal Shelana Huff.” She tested the words and liked them.
Tavi pointed at her scarf. “And you listened to the sky, in your own way. You noticed what the mummy really wanted.”
Shelana looked toward the horizon, where the beacon’s light moved like a slow wink. “Maybe listening means paying attention. Not just to problems, but to why they happen.”
Tavi nodded. “Exactly.”
A quiet moment passed. Then Shelana asked, “What about the mummy? It’s still out there.”
Tavi glanced toward the Whisper Ridges. “It has a glow corral now. It’ll probably sit in it for a long time, soaking up light like a cat in a sunny window.”
Shelana snorted. “A cat mummy. That’s a silly thought.”
Tavi’s eyes sparkled. “Silly thoughts keep the universe from getting too serious.”
They watched the beacon sweep. The lost rover in the distance moved steadily, no longer wandering.
Shelana tapped her new badge. “So, Tavi. You sticking around?”
Tavi hesitated, then smiled with a hint of mystery. “Time Travelers don’t exactly stick. We… loop. But I can stay long enough to help you check the other posts.”
Shelana climbed back into Junebug. “Then hop on. The Moon’s a big place. Plenty of room for a cowboy and a time traveler.”
Tavi hopped onto the back platform again. “And hopefully no more bandage thieves.”
Shelana started the engine. Junebug beeped confidently.
As they rolled away, the beacon behind them shone bright, and the badge on Shelana’s chest gleamed like a captured star.
Somewhere out on the quiet Moon, in a little hut of reflective panels, a mummy sat in a circle of borrowed light, no longer chasing, no longer frantic—just glowing softly, as if it had finally found a place where it could be seen.
And Lunar Range Marshal Shelana Huff rode on, hat steady, scarf fluttering gently, ready for the next strange thing the Moon might whisper to her.