Danger in the Deep Wood
 My entries have been sparse lately.  If you read any of the previous pages before this one, I am sure all you found where marks and scratches of quickly dipped ink, making this the first readable page in days.  It has been a fast-paced race of late, for it seemed I wasn't the only trained warrior in the region.  The night after my entry, I caught the trail of a Tiger Mouse.  Yet another off shoot of my species, more related to the wiggler and other Whisker creatures than anything found out near the towns and cities, the Tiger Mouse is a lone predator that stalks cheese, mouse, and hunter alike.  It seems it had caught scent of the Wiggler as well, and only a careless paw print in the mud warned me of its adjacent trailing of our common "friend."

I have spent the last week leaving false trails and sending the tiger mouse on a merry chase throughout the woods, using bits and pieces of cheese to keep its attention.  I lost it somewhere near a large lagoon finally, and I slipped back into the depths of Whisker Woods.  Of course, I now have only a vague idea of where I am, and I have utterly lost the trail of that lucky little wiggler.  I suppose I should return to my original task for being in this region at all, and that is my seeking of a massive tree.  There is something within that tree that should be able to aid me in my future endeavors, if my research in Furoma proves right...


Anatomy 101 and Dreams of Another World
It is the second day.  The Wiggler has vanished into the surrounding Woods since I freed it from the NVMRC trap.  Perhaps I should let it be. If I can't find it, then I can rest assured that the human hunters, with their horns, hounds, and traps will not be able to find it either. Strange, that I would refer to my cousin as it, but so different are our anatomies that I cannot determine the Wiggler's gender.  To clear some confusion, perhaps I should write some on the anatomies of the various creatures I transcribe in this journal; after all, I would hope to one day pass it on to a student of my own.

The Wiggler then.  Humans might confuse the Wiggler with a caterpillar.  I would not stoop to such a comparison myself, so as not to offend my distant cousin, but I would be lying if I failed to admit a similarity.  The Wiggler's long, cylindrical form with its many legs would quickly confuse an onlooker of its species.  A Wiggler generally has a total of thirty or moew pairs of legs that can double has hands.  These appendages are also slightly barbed, allowing it to climb trees to escape danger, if necessary, though its natural colored hues generally hide it well enough that only the most perceptive would be able to spot one, even if looking for it.  Its method of locomotion is a loping, rolling motion. By rolling its body up into a half circle, it then stretches itself out, grasping forward to clamp its barbed feet down then pulling its large body forward, using the forward momentum.  The end result is a slow start, but a very powerful forward momentum that only the strongest of oak trees would be able to withstand if it came to a full charge.  A Wiggler can grow to three feet long (though very, very few live this long) and come about six inches off the ground, when on all legs.  They have large ears that spread into stag-like horns which can be used as a form of self-defense.

On another note, I have strange dreams at night of late.  I dream that I myself am a human.  A male to be in fact.  I work in a place much like Digby, with scientific advances and research, though not on genetic experiences.  In fact, these dreams often delve into the depths of matter, atoms, and the nature of the universe itself.  It is a very strange dream, but it comes in a reoccurring pattern.  I dream I am the same human, in different settings, in a world highly unlike this one.


Memories Buried Deep
While hunting through the treetops of Whisker Woods last night, I came upon something that both draws my interest but also instills a sense of fear into my being.  A brief tale I will make this, but one from the beginning to tell it straight.  Jumping from branch to branch, I was hunting for a wandering Wiggler.  

A Wiggler, you see, is something of a distant mouse cousin.  We are kindred to each other, but only by genetic ancestry.  Perhaps the files located in the laboratories of Digby might provide more insight into the past of my kind, but such stories are for another day.  Suffice it to be that a Wiggler had escaped its pens on the outskirts of the Woods and taken to a direct path into the trees.  The trees are where Wiggler's feel the most safety, mind you.  This is due to their distinct green and red-splotched patterns that provide them natural concealment amongst forestland.  

The humans had not yet that the Wiggler had escaped its pen, and I wanted to find the small fellow before something unsavory befell him.  I had been following its path of broken branches and many-legged footprints as it undulated throughout the foliage, when the scent of cheese reached me in the boughs above.  I immediately knew that was where the Wiggler had gone, since it is well known Wiggler's cannot resist any morsel of cheese, no matter the kind.  Following this scent, I leapt from tree to tree, concealed within the garments of lady night, when I came upon the trap's location.

I must have at one point raced ahead of the Wiggler, for it had not yet appeared in the small clearing below me.  However, the site I saw was a strange one.  There was a wooden base with a small target painted on it, upon which a piece of cheddar cheese rested.  I scoffed at the obvious trap, but knew the Wiggler would not heed the danger of the cheese.  However, I saw no obvious trapping mechanism.  There were no springs, no blades, just the wooden base and the cheese.  My observations were cut short as the Wiggler appeared.  Its long-caterpillar-like body loping along, a cheese-lust glowing its eyes a faint yellow.  It leapt from the clearing's treeline and unto the base with a fervor only cheese-fever could allow it.  Upon picking up the cheese in its many-legged hands, the trap sprung.  Giant arm-like pinnacles leapt up from the ground and a shimmering force field came into view.  The Wiggler hardly noticed, until the cheese was gone and the fever vanished from its eyes.  

It began placing its hands on the invisible field, giving out a small whimper as it realized it was stuck.  I leapt down from the tree tops and carefully approached, in case there was more to the trap yet.  The Wiggler saw me, and turning to me it gave a squeak, asking for help.  After some consideration, I determined the source of the trap's power rested in its arms, from which the shield was generated, so I stuck a dagger into some wires and glowing lights on one of the arms.  The force field immediately shimmered off as electricity arced across the blade giving me a small shock.

With a squeak, the Wiggler disappeared back into the foliage.  I gave a small sigh, realizing that I was going to have to chase it yet more this night.  Retrieving my dagger, the force field shimmered back into view.  I was about to turn away and give chase yet again, when some writing on the base caught my attention:


What did these two words mean?  I felt that I had seen the second one somewhere once before.  I couldn't consider them then, for I had to give chase to the Wiggler to save it from further misfortune.  But now I wonder, as I write this.  Why do the words strike some memory buried deep?  Something from far in my own past.


Hello, the name is Cheesmotofu Mousekutatafu
 Greetings Stranger,

My name is Cheesmotofu Mousekutatafu.  And yes, I am a mouse.  A mouse of the darker order mind you, specially trained in the regions of Furoma to fight the undead hordes.  You know, the hordes that haunt the Burroughs seeking to bring all of both mouse and human under their undead curse?  I grew up as a gentle white mouse, seeking the softest of cheese out in the Meadows.  It was there that my sensei found me.  He took my under his paw and brought me to the harbours outside of the human kingdom of Gnawnia.  I was taught to fear humans and to forever taunt them by stealing their cheeses.  By taking the cheeses from the human hunter traps, I was saving the more unfortunate mice brethren from meeting early demise.

After I learned all I could, I journeyed into the interior of the world.  I climbed mountains and descended into forests.  Ultimately, I fought my way through the undead Burroughs and came upon Furoma, where I found mice like myself.  They were well-trained and brought me into their fold to help keep the undead curse under control.  It was here I first began to befriend humans.  Finding some injured, I spared their lives on a moment of a whim.  We began to talk while I nursed them to health, and we discovered there was much common ground to be shared and much misunderstanding between our two peoples.

Finding myself at odds with the Furoma-ites, I journeyed forth again.  This is now a Chronicle of the Journeys, dear Stranger, may the Light of the Cheese in the night sky guide your path.

Cheesmotofu Mousekutatafu
 -- Cheesmotofu Mousekutatafu


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