Leia cautiously emerged from her bunker, the last of the artillery shells having exploded roughly three minutes earlier. It was the longest three minutes of haunting silence, interrupted only by the faint sound of distant sirens, she had ever experienced.

“Is it safe?” she nervously asked the human with whom she shared this outpost. “Have the bombings stopped?”

“I think so,” the human replied, feigning assurance to both his kitty compatriot and himself. “It sounds like it’s over.”

The human pulled the fretful feline the rest of the way from her makeshift shelter, and though she outranked him, they shared an embrace that superseded authority. Her heart pounded as she thought of friends and family members stationed elsewhere. Were they safe? Were they worried about her as well? She needed to craft a communique, ASAP.

Delicately, Leia stepped down from the human’s strong, secure arms as more questions raced through her head. Could she actually send out a message? Would the lines of communication even be open? There was only one way to find to find out, she reasoned, as she fired up the command computer situated in the southeast corner of the room. To her surprise, all channels were open and operating as normal. She sent out a notice that was short and simple:

“Leia marked herself safe from the Fourth of July Fireworks.”

A few smaller campaigns continued throughout the evening, but this lucky lynx once again made it safely to dawn’s early light.