THE FIRST MOOSE MOIRA EVER SAW WAS DEAD. She was twelve, old to be seeing a first moose, at least for a girl who’d spent her whole life on the Island. But then, moose rarely wandered into town. They preferred to loiter out by the highway, delighting in the cool breeze that trailed each loaded logging truck. Moira didn’t blame them for that\u2014there wasn’t much to see in Morrissey Beach. She hadn’t been out to the highway since her mother was carried away on it two years earlier, in the pickup of a man named Fred Chuggs from Nanaimo. Moira had chased the two of them all the way across town before she tripped on the gravel shoulder of Highway 19 and was catapulted to her knees, the truck shrinking as it approached the horizon. From then on, it was up to her to take care of her father.<\/p>\n
That morning, she looked out the kitchen window of the trailer and noticed her father’s pickup back in the drive. He’d been up north, gone for a week. Through the windshield, she could see his head and shoulders slung over the steering wheel. He went on the same hunting trip twice a year with his buddies from the mill, but the most he ever came back with was a multi-day hangover. He had a neighbour look in on Moira while he was gone. Every time he went away, she worried he wouldn’t come back. Then Moira would truly<\/em> be alone.<\/p>\n From the window, she could make out something in the back of the truck. As soon as she went outside, she got a big, foul whiff of whatever it was and stepped up on the back wheel to look into the bed. There was the moose\u2014more mammoth than she could have imagined. The torso almost took up the whole bed, and beneath it were four knobby limbs collapsed like the legs of a folding table. Its open eye was the size of Moira’s clenched fist. In the back corner of the truck bed, a pool of maroon-coloured blood glimmered in the sunlight. Startled, Moira jumped off the wheel, stumbling backwards and landing with a thud on her butt in the dirt.<\/p>\n ***<\/strong><\/p>\n “It\u2019s a special mission,” says Leif, approaching Moira in the dinner line. She feels tinier than her twenty-three years, her body sinewy like a teenaged boy’s in the shadow of Leif’s two hundred and fifty pounds. Leif elbows through the other planters in line, reaching for a bottle of barbecue sauce which he squeezes to douse over the mountain of chicken thighs on his plate.<\/p>\n “Tomorrow. Seven AM start. Twelve thousand trees to go into a burn block up the North Fraser. Twenty cents a tree. Andy’s running the show.” He picks a thigh up off his plate, pausing to admire it before he sinks his teeth in and chews. “We need four planters\u2014you in?”<\/p>\n “I guess so,” Moira shrugs. She wasn’t about to refuse work.<\/p>\n “Good,” says Leif, before he strides away.<\/p>\n Working would mean giving up her day off in town, but this way she might just get to spend some time with Andy. As second-in-command in the camp after Leif, Andy never had a moment to spare\u2014he even spent his days off running errands all over Prince George. Garbage runs, box runs, reefers, quad repairs, staging. It hardly mattered that Moira shared a bed with him every night. By the time Andy would get to their van, often after going through a twenty-sixer of whisky with Leif and the other crew bosses in the office trailer, it was two or three in the morning and Moira was stiff with sleep.<\/p>\n Andy didn’t seem to mind the lifestyle, but Moira couldn’t see the point of climbing the ladder in a tree planting camp. Did he think he was going to be doing this forever? She’d been planting since she was nineteen, it was already her fourth season\u2014compared to Andy’s eighth\u2014and she was ready to move on. The shitty thing was that she made far more money as a planter than she ever could in the city. Five months of planting and Moira had a decent chunk of money to put towards the down payment on her dad’s old lot in Morrissey Beach.<\/p>\n She might already have the money if she hadn’t spent so much in the off-season. This past year she’d lived with Andy in Vic, where they paid a thousand bucks a month in rent for a pathetic one-bedroom apartment in Burnside Gorge. They had to pay extra to live there month-by-month, so that they could take off when coastal work started in the spring. They might have had enough to live on\u2014and maybe enough to save some, too\u2014if Andy hadn\u2019t been in the habit of spending his EI money within a few days instead of the two weeks it was supposed to last. He would blow a few hundred getting coked-up with his friends, or splurge on a fancy bottle of Scotch that would be gone in a night. Other times, he would insist on going downtown for dinner and invite all their planting friends. While Moira scanned the menu for the cheapest item, Andy would order appetizers and shots for everyone like he was some kind of king. See? I do help pay for stuff, <\/em>he would tease her on the way home, after he’d paid for both of their meals, along with a few rounds of drinks for their friends. He’d laugh at her anger, say it was no big deal, he’d pay all the rent next month. But he always had some excuse when the first of the month rolled around. Then it was up to Moira to scrape together what she could. She relied on her tips from the pub to buy their food. But once or twice during the winter months, when business was slow, she had to stop at the local food bank on her way home. Andy thought that was funny, too.<\/p>\n If this season turned out to be as lucrative as the last, she was certain she’d have enough for her deposit. She and Andy had talked about living in their van on her land for a while to fix up her father’s old trailer, make it liveable again. Moira was sure that they’d be better off out of the city, where Andy could relax, ease up on the all-night benders. He was fine when it was just the two of them.<\/p>\n ***<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/strong>Moira sets her dinner plate down next to her friend Kate’s at a sagging plastic table outside the mess tent. Planters are seated here and there around the table, on folding chairs, plastic patio furniture, and stumps. They\u2019re talking about the forest fire a few hundred kilometres away in Tumbler Ridge.<\/p>\n “I heard it\u2019s like, 3,000 hectares,” says Alexis, a vet from the Okanagan Valley.<\/p>\n “Is that big enough for us to get a day off work?” chimes one of the camp stoners, the type that comes tree planting for the experience<\/em>.<\/p>\n “Careful what you wish for there, greener,” says Alexis, who would know. “Being evacuated for a forest fire sucks.”<\/p>\n Moira turns to Kate, “Did Leif talk to you?”<\/p>\n “I’m not doing it!” says Kate, slamming a plastic mug of red wine on the table. The whole structure wobbles, causing some leftover soup in an abandoned bowl to swirl and spill.<\/p>\n “Seriously, fuck that,” says Kate. “I am not <\/em>working on my day off.”<\/p>\n “I told Leif I’d do it,” says Moira.<\/p>\n “Have you gone batshit?” asks Kate.<\/p>\n “Probably?” says Moira. “It’s money, though, isn’t it? I thought Andy and I could spend the day together.”<\/p>\n “Mr. AWOL, you mean?” jokes Kate.<\/p>\n “He’s running the thing though, so no doubt he’ll have a bunch of other crap to take care of.”<\/p>\n “Just one of the many shitty parts of dating staff,” says Kate, her eyes drifting across the camp to a picnic table where Nuke, her last-season boyfriend and a veteran crew boss, is sitting.<\/p>\n “So does this mean you’re not partying tonight?”<\/p>\n “I hope to Jesus Christ not,” answers Moira. “I’m not going to be able to make it through tomorrow if I have to barf every time I bend over to put a tree in.”<\/p>\n “Well I need<\/em> to drink,” says Kate, her eyes widening. She clutches Moira’s arm in mock desperation, “After the shift we’ve had, I’m getting white-girl wasted. Supposedly it’s a Valentine’s Day theme, maybe I’ll get lucky.”<\/p>\n “No chance you’ll come with me, then?” asks Moira.<\/p>\n “Not this time, kitten!” Kate gets up from the table, tapping Moira affectionately on the head. “Better go refill my grape juice. I’ll be back.”<\/p>\n Moira sits back in her folding chair, full from the meal. In the distance, she sees Andy emerge from the office trailer. He walks towards his truck as if on his own special mission, but upon noticing her, changes his direction and walks her way.<\/p>\n “So Leif tells me you’re coming on the special mish tomorrow?” he says, massaging her shoulders as he leans over her.<\/p>\n “Yup. Who needs a day off?”<\/p>\n “It’s going to be a big money day,” he says, squeezing her shoulders. He bends down to whisper in her ear, “Burns<\/em>. Twenty cents a tree<\/em>.”<\/p>\n “Yeah, yeah,” says Moira. Planting trees in giant slash piles that have been reduced to ash is fast, if nothing else. The soil is soft and sandy, a second to put the tree in\u2014nothing like the overgrown blocks they’ve been planting since the summer contract started.<\/p>\n “Well, kid,” says Andy, “I better head to the reefer. I’ve got to load trees for tomorrow.”<\/p>\n “Can I come with you?” asks Moira as Andy turns to walk away.<\/p>\n “Sure,” he calls, his back to her.<\/p>\n They stroll across the camp together, passing clusters of planters. Most are holding cans of cheap beer. Some of them already look tipsy\u2014it doesn’t take much after a long, hot day like the one they’ve just had.<\/p>\n “Oooooheeeee!” yells Nuke, already drunk and swaying as they pass him at the picnic table. “Where you two going? Quickie in the truck?”<\/p>\n The other planters at the table all turn to look at them, as Andy makes a show of grabbing Moira’s butt. She swats him away and shakes her head. Once, this attention would have made her feel important, not just because Andy was at the very top of the camp hierarchy, but because he was loved by all. Andy was the life of the party\u2014the guy climbing the pole in the mess tent and swinging down it like a stripper to hoots and cheers at four in the morning. The type of person who made Moira feel less alone.<\/p>\n ***<\/strong><\/p>\n Her father was asleep when he died. He was driving home from the Highway Man in Fiona Bay, the bar he stopped at most nights after his shift at the mill. The police said his vehicle was going so slow when it veered off the road and into the water that he hadn’t sustained any serious injuries. If he’d have woken up when his pickup nosedived into the ocean, he might have lived. But an autopsy showed his blood level alcohol had been ten times the legal limit\u2014enough to stop him from doing anything about the water that gradually filled the cab of his truck and drowned him.<\/p>\n A few years later, Moira left Morrissey Beach to go tree planting. They were a big crew that year, fifty planters and almost half of them greeners, like Moira. Andy was just a first-time crew boss, but to a greener that was enough to give him an aura of godliness. His looks didn’t help. He had buzzed blonde hair and a body that was lean and muscular. He walked around with a half-smirk on his face, like he was laughing at the world. The type of guy that even the veteran girls drooled over when they took over the shower trailer to get ready for party nights. It took more for Moira to lose her focus out in the land, though, when her bags were heavy with trees and her only thought was of emptying them. She rammed her shovel into dirt as though it was responsible for the sense of failure she carried, waking every morning at five forty-five in the morning to shake off dreams of her father. In those dreams she was supposed to be planting trees. Her father\u2014the version of him leftover from her childhood, before her mother left\u2014would show up at the cut block saying he needed her help with something. Then he would lead her through the land, reassuring her over and over again that they were getting closer, they’d almost found it. Moira would grow more anxious every second she didn’t plant a tree, seconds that were gone forever, so that when she arrived at the block each morning she already felt the need to make up for lost time, to redeem the day.<\/p>\n She earned a reputation for being the first planter in the land in the morning and last to come out when the day was called at five. Ten minute cache breaks in rain, hail, extreme heat. For Moira, there was no such thing as pushing hard one day so that she could relax the next. Moira pushed herself every day, no exceptions. By mid-June, she’d already planted 3K twice, which was rare for a planter in her first year, especially on that contract.<\/p>\n When the season finished in early July, she was named rookie highballer at their crew’s last party. With the title, she, too, gained an aura of godliness. It seemed like every time she turned around there was a guy ready to light up a Belmont for her, pour her next shot of Jamieson, or try to seduce her on the dance floor. But Andy wasn’t one of them. The crew bosses were off celebrating in the office trailer. Moira waited for the moment that Andy would appear, hoping that he might congratulate her for the award. But the night dragged on, until Moira felt so exhausted that she worried she might simply collapse under a table on the concrete floor of the mess tent if she tried to stay up any longer. She stepped outside, pausing for a moment to look up at the sky, which was starting to lighten.<\/p>\n And then Andy was beside her.<\/p>\n “I have something to show you,” he said, taking her hand.<\/p>\n Moira followed him to the forested area at the edge of camp. He gripped her hand tighter as they ducked into the brush where his tent was.<\/p>\n “Look,” he said, pointing towards the stump next to his vestibule.<\/p>\n Moira could make out a humongous pair of antlers open before her like the wings of a butterfly. They projected out from a narrow skull that ended in a gaping hole at the snout. The off-white bones seemed to glow in the half-light.<\/p>\n “I found it in the land,” said Andy. They kissed then, with the moose skull looking on.<\/p>\n ***<\/strong><\/p>\n Andy steers the truck out of camp, turning onto the Caine bush road.<\/p>\n “I was thinking,” says Moira.<\/p>\n “Yeah?” says Andy. “What?”<\/p>\n “Oh,” she says, “I don’t know. I was thinking that maybe since we have to work tomorrow morning, we could have a quiet night just the two of us. But then I thought, no, you probably don’t want to.”<\/p>\n “What?” asks Andy. “Why would you think I don’t want to?”<\/p>\n “I don’t know,” says Moira. “I guess we just haven’t spent that much time together this season.”<\/p>\n “That’s because I have to work all the time,” says Andy.<\/p>\n “I know you’re not working the whole time,” says Moira. “You’re just getting drunk and shooting the shit with Leif.”<\/p>\n “Oh come on,” says Andy, “that’s how<\/em> we work.”<\/p>\n “Sure,” says Moira, turning to look out the window.<\/p>\n “Look,” she says a moment later, “I don’t mean to accuse you. I guess I just miss you.”<\/p>\n Andy drives, silent, one hand on the steering wheel. When they get to the reefer, he backs the truck up next to it so that they can pass the tree boxes directly from the refrigerated container to the back of the truck. Moira goes to open her door, but Andy reaches for her arm.<\/p>\n “You’re right. I haven\u2019t been around. I’m sorry.”<\/p>\n “It’s okay,” says Moira.<\/p>\n “We’ll stay in tonight,” he says, nodding as he hops out of the truck. “I think it’s a good idea.”<\/p>\n Back at camp, preparations for the Valentine’s Day party are in full swing. In the mess tent, a sound system and speakers are being set up. A group of girls are stringing cut-out pink paper hearts from the ceiling, while on one of the tables someone paints a banner that reads “GET LAID!” in bright red letters.<\/p>\n Moira and Andy hover at the entrance of the mess tent, watching the flurry of activity. Moira slips her hand in Andy’s.<\/p>\n “Come on,” she says, tugging him. She leads him towards the wooded area where their van is parked. He glances back over his shoulder as they enter the trees.<\/p>\n They open the sliding door and climb in. Moira pulls Andy’s frame against hers and holds him, swaying a little. She lifts her head to look him in the eyes. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but Moira kisses him before he does. She angles her hips into his as she slips both of her hands under his shirt, lifting it over his head and arms. Then she removes her own plaid button-down shirt and jeans, and lies down on their bed, propping herself up on her elbows as she looks at Andy. He is too tall to stand straight up in the van, so he bends his neck to one side, smiling down at her as he undoes his belt, steps out of his pants and boxers. He climbs into the bed, his body over hers, his head pushing into her neck as he kisses her. Moira reaches for the light switch, pressing it to make them both invisible to the outside world.<\/p>\n After they make love, Moira lies her head on Andy’s chest, stroking his neck at the edge of his stubble. His eyelids droop with sleep, while music pulses in the distance. She feels calm but alert, as though something in her has been restored by the intensity of their lovemaking. See<\/em>, she wants to say to him, we can skip one party. <\/em>But Andy’s body sinks deeper into the bed and his breathing slows as his lips fall open. Moira lies down next to him and closes her eyes.<\/p>\n <\/strong>***<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/strong>When Moira wakes, she has no idea what time it is. It’s still pitch black outside. She sits up in bed and looks out the windows. The door of the van opens and she can make out two shady figures in at the entrance.<\/p>\n “Who is it?” she calls out, pulling at a blanket to cover her chest. Andy groans beside her.<\/p>\n “Andy,” comes Leif’s voice, “we’re making a hot tub\u2014we need you.”<\/p>\n “What?” says Andy, still half-asleep.<\/p>\n “A hot tub, in the back of one of the trucks.”<\/p>\n “I’m sleeping,” says Andy.<\/p>\n “Let us in you anus-licking piece of fairy shit!” yells Nuke.<\/p>\n Andy turns on the light, revealing a scowling Moira as she slips on a t-shirt and pyjama pants. Leif looks like a giant baby clad in a pink spandex thong with rainbow suspenders. He gets in and sits down in the passenger seat, which has been spun around to face the interior of the van. Nuke is shirtless, paint splattered all over his torso. He slumps down on the floor among the pile of clothes that Andy and Moira shed on their way to bed.<\/p>\n “I’ve got a special present for you, for being a good wittle boy,” says Leif, his trance-like gaze resting on Moira though he’s speaking to Andy. He digs into his pocket and pulls out a small plastic bag half-filled with white powder, shaking it like a bag of dog treats.<\/p>\n “Son of a bitch!” says Andy, a brazen smile appearing on his face as he sits up in bed and reaches to the floor for his boxers, yanking them out from under Nuke’s butt. He stands up, fully naked, and pulls them on, while Moira sits still, looking on from the corner of the van in disgust. She reaches forward, brushing Andy’s back to get his attention.<\/p>\n “I’m not doing this,” she mouths when he turns to face her. “You can, but not here. I need to sleep.”<\/p>\n Past Andy, she watches Leif dump a pile of powder onto the counter and start divvying it into lines.<\/p>\n “Don’t be like that,” says Andy in a whisper. “One line. We’ll go to bed in an hour. It’ll be fine.”<\/p>\n She wants to believe him, but for once she can’t. He opens their cooler and grabs two beers, then hands one back to her. Holding the full can, Moira feels an urge to chuck it at the back of his head. This is her<\/em> fucking van. She paid for most of it, since Andy was perpetually broke. Still, she doesn\u2019t want to embarrass him in front of Leif, which might threaten his position in the camp. So she opens the beer and chugs it.<\/p>\n She gets up from the bed, pushing past Andy. “Ladies first?” she says, gesturing towards the coke.<\/p>\n “Why not,” says Leif.<\/p>\n Moira’s face hovers over the fattest line before she presses her index finger to her nose and inhales. Numbness coats the inside of her nostril, but the high is instant, warmth that swells inside until there is no room for any other feeling. It doesn’t matter what Andy does or what Leif does or what anybody does. She feels too fucking great to care.<\/p>\n In her memory there is only one other time in her life when she felt as happy. Moira was four or five and her mother and father took her on a ferry ride to Hornby Island. She stood between them, hooking her little hands into their big hands, like they were all links on a chain that could never be broken. The three of them were standing by the boat railing looking out over the water when they saw a rainbow. And then they realized it was not just one rainbow but two<\/em> rainbows, one above the other. As Moira looked out at the sky, she felt her parents squeeze together above her. They were leaning in for a kiss. What could be better? Two rainbows and two parents. Fantastic.<\/p>\n Moira watches Andy bend over the counter to take his line. She feels she is finally seeing him for what he is, without the illusion of who he could be if he’d just love her a bit more than he loved getting fucked-up. Maybe she thought she could save him from himself, like she’d tried to save her father. Maybe he was supposed to be her second chance. Andy sits down beside her on the bed and she turns to him and smiles one of those sad smiles that tend to come before terrible news. She clutches his hand tight for a moment, then releases it.<\/p>\n “I have to go,” she says. Nuke looks up from his line as Moira jumps from the door of van and disappears into the forest.<\/p>\n “What are you doing you fucking whale cunt!” calls Nuke. She can hear laughter from inside the van as she runs off.<\/p>\n She runs across camp, all the way to the edge of the lake. It feels more wonderful than ever to run, like being carried on wings. No one is around. There is an island out on the water, but it is barely a silhouette in the night, the only light coming from the mess tent behind her in the distance. As she looks out over the water, she feels herself being pulled down, further and further, the happiness escaping out the top of her head. Moira wobbles and falls to the ground, hugging herself until she realizes she is sobbing, her body convulsing with grief. A long time passes before she feels ready to get up, and then she is shivering. At last she stands, noticing a shadow moving on the shore of the island as she turns to walk back. But when she looks again, there is nothing there.<\/p>\n ***<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/strong>The sky is purpler than a bruise when her alarm goes at six-thirty. Smoke from the nearby forest fire has collected beneath the clouds, blocking out the sun. Out of the van, Moira finds Andy passed out on a folding chair in the middle of an enormous puddle, the water from the hot tub he made in one of the truck beds drained overnight. She shakes his shoulders to wake him up.<\/p>\n “It’s time to go,” she says.<\/p>\n The other planters recruited for the special mission materialize one by one, chucking their gear into the back of the truck and plopping down in the back seat of the cab. They leave at exactly 7:03, with Andy behind the wheel. When they turn off Highway 97 onto the North Fraser, it is still pitch black outside. Moira watches Andy’s eyes flutter as he holds the wheel. The other planters are dozing, too, their heads all the way back. When Andy’s head starts to droop, she seizes his arm.<\/p>\n “Stop the truck,” she says. “I’m driving.”<\/p>\n “You don’t know how,” says Andy, his words slurring a little. Still, he pulls over on the gravel road and brings the vehicle to an abrupt stop. Jolted, the planters in the back look out the window to see they haven’t arrived, and then resettle into sleep.<\/p>\n “You’re going to fucking kill us all,” Moira whispers. “I know how to drive. Move over.”<\/p>\n That was only half-true, though. Moira’s father was teaching her how to drive when he had the accident. He\u2019d taught her the basics, but she hadn’t practiced in years\u2014not even since they bought their van. Moira walks around to the driver’s side and heaves herself up, nudging Andy to the passenger’s seat. Then she does what she’s seen Andy do hundreds of times: she adjusts the seat, checks her mirrors, and turns up the dial on the handheld radio so that she can listen for traffic on the road. Still, she\u2019s nervous. Her head is throbbing from so little sleep. Moira turns to look at Andy, who is already slumped in the front seat, his eyes half-shut. She takes the truck out of park and presses the gas.<\/p>\n The bush road is narrow and winding, with a ditch separating the road from the forest on one side and the Fraser River on the other. They\u2019ve had a lot of blocks down this way this summer, but Moira has never seen the road so dark. The shadowy stillness is eerier than something from a horror film. Moira drives slowly, her clammy hands in a death grip on the steering wheel, her heart pounding against her chest. It\u2019s impossible to see what lies beyond the truck\u2019s lights. Moira sees the sleek mahogany fur, oblong snout, and sullen eyes before the moose appears.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Moira & the Moose<\/strong>
\n
\nMoira used to get all fidgety around him, like a kid with ADHD. When she caught sight of him walking across camp to his truck or if he happened to sit at her table for dinner she couldn\u2019t even speak. A handful of times, after downing a beer or two, she worked up the courage to talk to him beside the fire. Moira was surprised at how different he seemed when they were alone: thoughtful, deep\u2014vulnerable, even. Once, they ended up talking long into the night, well after everyone else had wandered off to their tents. They parted ways with a hug, Andy patting Moira’s back like she was his little sister. Night, kid<\/em>, he’d said. <\/em>She was sure that the fact he hadn’t made a move on her meant he wasn’t interested.<\/p>\n
\n“It’s amazing,” said Moira, turning to face him.<\/p>\n
\nTHE FIRST MOOSE MOIRA EVER SAW WAS DEAD. She was twelve, old to be seeing a first moose, at least for a girl who\u2019d spent her whole life on the Island. But then, moose rarely wandered into town. They preferred to loiter out by the highway, delighting in the cool breeze that trailed each loaded logging\u2026<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":774,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-324","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/324","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=324"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/324\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":858,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/324\/revisions\/858"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/774"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=324"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=324"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=324"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}