I have a version which retains the original formatting of the text. The fact that none of the original spacing in my section of the story is retained makes me kinda cringe. How can I post it with out ruining the formatting?

I tried this, but hubski doesn't really allow for unformatted long-form text. Not sure if this is of use to you.

  [Part 1](http://hubski.com/pub?id=94325)-@thenewgreen@
  [Part 2](http://hubski.com/pub?id=94362)-@onehunna@
  [Part 3](http://hubski.com/pub?id=94491)-@AshShields@
  [Part 4]()-@zebra2@
  
  +As Yet Untitled+ by: Hubski
  
  "Excuse me," she said, turned her chin to the ground and walked out of the room.
  
  "Where is she going?" asked the chancellor.
  
  The school was founded in 1777, the year they adopted the constitution, or so we've been told. But the constitution wouldn't apply to her and her family for another 159 years. In 1776, the caribou in her town out numbered the people six to one. And until 1976, caribou were still out numbering people. That is, until she was born. She was the first human to tip the scales.
  
  "Fuck the caribou" her brother always said. "What do they do but shit, fuck and shit some more. If they weren't such damn good eatin' I'd say nuke 'em all."
  
  But Ashley wouldn't dream of harming the caribou and harbored a silent guilt for being the one to supposedly out number them.
  
  She had a special affection for the animal. When her grandfather died, he left her his walking stick, that according to him, was carved from the antler of the largest caribou to ever live. To her it looked like ivory, and she treasured it.
  
  After he died, during the summer of her eighteenth year she took to carrying that walking stick everywhere she went, even in to the chambers of "The Administration."
  
  The chancellor coughed, hoping it would trigger her to reenter the proceedings.
  
  Ashley stopped in her tracks. The chancellor cocked his head as she turned to face him, with a smirk of thinly veiled indignation plastered on his raggedy old face. "As you were explaining to the Council..." The chancellor said, his voice booming through the large, empty hall of the Administration.

  Ashley coughed and cleared her throat. Choked back all of the disgust she had for the man perched in the high stand in front of her. "The caribou are synonymous with this region," she said. A scoff from one of the Council members. "The *tuktu* herds have been grazing on the lichens and wild mushrooms since before our people settled these lands. They provide balance to our fragile territory, a balance we disrupted."
  
  "They eat from my willows," said one of the Council members. A cross, snooty old woman in a ceremonial wig three sizes too big for her head. "They leave my poor willow trees patchy and half-bare. And all of the waste. Pests." She turned her head up in distaste at the thought of the horned beasts.
  
  "Are you finished, my dear?" The chancellor said, his eyes locked on the gnarled walking stick in the fragile girl's arms. Ashley stood in silence. The taste in her mouth was a sour one. The Council was an immovable object, not like the caribou, who migrated and traveled the lands. Never staying in one spot for long. They understood that movement was survival, and the Council, a solitary crumbling wall of bullheadedness seemed to be decaying before her eyes.
  
  "Motion denied," The chancellor said without even waiting for a vote. He slammed a twisted wooden gavel down on the flat surface of the stand. "The annual Reaping will proceed as usual, at the start of the coming week, the Winter Solstice before the migration period."
  
  Ashley looked around at the faces of the council, scrambling to find any trace of sorrow among them. But the decision was final, and it was final in their faces. It was them against her. And the caribou haven't exactly a say in the matter.
  
  She spun on her feet once more, pacing out of the room, head down, deep in thought. She wasn't surprised - she had expected the Council to remain seated in their ways, but she had held an ounce of hope that she would be able to change something. She walked mindlessly, down the cold and lifeless halls, stopping only when she took her first step outside, into the glaring sun. She looked up and blinked twice, letting her eyes adjust, before continuing in her way.
  
  This time she walked with direction, with drive. She knew where she was going, and she was going to get there, Council rules be damned. Puffs of red dust followed her footsteps as she strode down the wide, open streets. Passing through the central market, she paid no attention to the bustling people and general hubbub, caught in her thoughts as she was. Why did the Council make all the decisions anyhow? What gave them the right to decide something so big, so important, without any regard for anyone else's opinions? She knew it was pointless, in the end - the people would agree mindlessly with the ever-wise Council members if she made a fuss, and she would be ignored, or worse. They held no regard for the caribou, they didn't see them as she did - only as pests, creatures that eat from willow trees and make a mess, things to be controlled and got rid of, nothing more.
  
  Eventually, she reached the gates of her small town, and passed through them without a thought.
  
  "Ashley! What are you doing? Where are you going?" a small voice called out from behind her. She turned without breaking stride, jogging backwards as she replied.
  
  "Just wait there, okay? I'll be back, I promise. Just wait!"
  
  ***
  
  Ashley sat in the dusty law section of the town library. Surely her best recourse against the Council could be found in the tomes of city ordinances and environmental protection acts. The city library had long served as the hub for lawyers in San Caribino county and featured a large volume of legal works. If the solution was in the law, it would be here.
  
  The rule of law was *just.* It was made to protect all people, even if they were caribou. The bastards in the council wanted to trample their rights like a herd of caribou passing though a vegetable garden. But no, the laws must protect them and Ashley *would* find the key.
  
  As the hours passed her research only made her more disheartened. The relevant sections of the Wildlife Protection act had been repealed. The Reaping appeared to be fully protected by the federal Violence Against Nature Protection Act, which had been signed into law during Nixon's fifth term as president.
  
  She was exhausted and it was long since sundown, but still she persisted.
  
  "There *must* be something here that can help the caribou" Ashley whimpered as she dozed off at the reading desk.
  
  She sat there in a dreamless sleep until a tapping on her shoulder awoke her. A man in a dark overcoat stood behind her. A broad hat obscured his eyes. He shoved an envelope towards her.
  
  "You might need this" he said.
  
  ...