First, Skidander Squirrel In On His Own Page, A Pagent fOrm

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CHAPTER 1
 

Skidander lay there in the mid-day sun rolling on the grass. He was concentrating on cracking open a big acorn, and had been working at it for most of the morning. However, it kept jumping and shooting away from him because he was using the nutcracker somewhat upside down.  This was before he had read the instructions on how to do it just right.  Finally, he grew altogether overwhelmed, overly frustrated to say the least, to the point of jumping furiously up and down upon the blasted seed, getting no further to the center though.
 

Just then, Rathruff the chipmunk, a somewhat more knowledgeable fellow than he, renowned for his wonderfully superb and most excellent memory, came meandering by. So Skidander stopped all of a sudden-like, attempting to look nonchalant. He could entertain better self-control as a squirrel than he otherwise let on. Rathruff casually scooped up the acorn and planted it within his elastic cheek. Skidander nonverbally retorted to fidgeting with his little paw, cleaning it quickly and proficiently.
 

Certainly, Skidander was behaving unusual, even as far as squirrels were concerned. He now conversed with Rathruff, who had since cracked open the nut and was busily chewing it. J-j-j-d-j-j-g-g-j-j? Skidander spoke in short, controlled bursts of thought, his words sounding much like bullets streaming from an oozie. This, however, was not the reason others shared the opinion that he spoke strangely, for everyone knows that to be the way all squirrels communicate (few have heard them, but anyone can observe one of them doing so from even a far way off; jabbering away with their jaw as squirrels have grown accustomed to do so much these days). To the field and forest animals, Skidander was understood well enough, since they all spoke a common speech, despite minor differences between the kinds of creatures. He chose to incorporate a thick British accent into this forest’s dialect, which had often made him the object of the chirping of the sparrows. Those same sparrows usually sang their words by the way. His fragile ears were often pinched also by an occasional swallow, taking time to swoop down like the wind from its dancing through the skies.

 

 CHAPTER 2
 

Skidander had an ordinary childhood. As far as it was concerned, it was a good one (because it was ordinary and for the fact that he could expect anything that ordinarily happened to squirrels to also happen to him simply for the reason that he also happened to be a squirrel), and so he was happy doing his ordinary childhood things each and every day of his childhood and knew it was good to be ordinary. He experienced some excitement along the way, which have now become his adventures to him. They were not very many or great compared to some, but to Skidander, they were the best adventures because he got to live through them all. One could even list those same adventures as “exploits.” They were that grand.
 

His early life first started getting really exciting and enjoyable once he dropped the assumption he could fly. The only reason he felt he could in the first place was because his cousin, Spunker, had “flying” squirrel blood in him and could gracefully soar in between the tree tops and over amazingly long distances before landing. When Skidander went to imitate Spunker once, he fell very quickly, landing on his side, dislocating his shoulder in the process. Now if Spunker had attempted the very same leap, from that very same branch out of the reach of all others less one high one, he surely would have faired far better and almost certainly continued safely on.
 

It is true that even squirrels as skilled as Spunker sometimes miss their mark, but Skidander was clearly out of his league that day. He should have realized he was not nearly ready or even remotely prepared for such a grand notion. He had not even been sure if he had “flying” squirrel blood in him, much less the ability to take on such a challenge. If Dr. Beavers had not known the proper way to rub some dirt on his shoulder (that is another way besides casting to heal bad wounds), Skidander might have had one of his limbs on backwards for life. Imagine that! Certainly the disadvantages would outweigh the advantages in a case such as that. How could he run the same or even scurry across tree branches at all, not to mention “flying” like Cousin Spunker?

 

 CHAPTER 3
 

Skidander usually had tended to learn the hard way; however, he deeply tried to learn without hurting himself from then on and was for the most part successful (there are some things squirrels must learn for themselves, such as balancing and agility, for instance, which helps them to move efficiently through the tree tops). He now knows better than to leap at branches just for the sake of being like Spunker. He did have a scar from then on where his bone had torn his fur, but it has since grown better, thanks to Dr. Beavers.
 

He also has a multi-shaded stripe throughout his soft, puffy tail, due to an event of rather extraordinary occurrence. Several seasons ago, Skidander was trying diligently, attempting to make himself comfortable on a particularly scratchy tree limb: turning, flopping, and switching back and forth in all sorts of positions, in order to rest well and properly.
 

Later that night, still uncomfortable and definitely unsituated, he went to remove some annoyingly sharp twig which had in some way or another become lodged in his tail. He could not nudge it away with his paw, so he swung back his head and bit right into it as to break it off, which was actually a wire of the tree’s Holidaylights he had not bothered to notice earlier. Veriffft! Sipppt! Gaazhiddt, dit, ditt! Alarmed, Skidander shot nearly a dozen feet strait into another tree and slid down the trunk all the way to the ground. I can tell you he lay there stiff and perplexed and smoking (just a bit) for a good length of time.
 

Yes, he was indeed quite perplexed after all, on how he was where he now was and just how, if it could be logically determined, he had arrived there so very instantly. He replayed the event, this wonder of wonders as it was, in his head again and again, each time cringing from the thought of it all, until, at long last, he gave up guessing what had happened. Although for the next day or so afterwards, he was randomly subject to electric-jolt repercussions every now and again.

 

 CHAPTER 4
 

It was not too long, though, before he inquired with Detective Marielle Mole, who was skilled in analyzing various occurrences. The detective discovered Skidander had been struck by lightning, a most sobering occurrence, a light way to put it, according to Mari, who had once witnessed the event as it took the life of a collie dog, who was tied to “one of those yard-long leashes,” as she described it. Apparently, the bolt had struck the metal pole which the apparatus was fastened to, traveled across the length of rope to the pulley device, down the actual leash, into the dog house, on unto the poor, unsuspecting mutt, where: poof! Hot diggity dog! Sizzling like fluffy bacon on a breakfast pan; frizzling like hairy veggies on a stir fry; snap, crackle, popping like yelping puffed-rice cereal: that shocked dog lay more fried than extra-crispy recipe barbeque chicken. Therefore, Mari advised Skidander to be truly thankful that his fate had not been the same. For, he had been unusually fortunate in his own experience.
 

They both sniffled as each shed a small tear or two for the collie dog lost to lightening. Such an occurrence was truly disrupting no matter what the timing or occasion.  So Skidander was at least relieved to understand what it was that had happened to him that night, and despite his sincere request unto Miss Mole to not have her mention the tale to anyone, the word about it somehow traveled speedily throughout the area and the entire region knew of it all too soon. So goes many-a-tale.
 

That was perhaps the one and only time he ever was still for more than a moment, for he was always twitching. The most composed state an onlooker would notice him as was whenever he would gather himself to wet back his fine fur over his tiny head, between his tiny ears, using his tiny paws. For a young squirrel must look the best he can, otherwise treacherous hawks and owls may mistake him, with their keen sight, to be ill or wounded, and thus easier prey, because of a sudden unkempt grooming. Then there was the matter of the Friday evening dances with the maiden squirrels, but we need not go further into that. He really could not sit still for more than...well, he just had to constantly fidget about. Some thought he had a nervous disorder, or even suffered from unpleasant seizures, but this was hardly the case. That was simply the way Skidander was and always had been. It was chiefly due to his many mishaps and perils, that he was such a bold character; and even these were usually not of his own fault, but rather a product of the less-than-ideal predicaments he found himself thrown and plopped down into. Such was the encounter Skidander had with electricity. 

  CHAPTER 5
 

The entire Enlightening Incident, as it had come to be known among the folk around those parts, was the cause behind the unfortunate appearance of Skidander and his tail in particular, for he has since had more in common with the skunks in outward show than with his fellow squirrels. This was of course the reason his family gave for dubbing him “most unfamiliar, charred and foul-smelling one.” Although he did not reek anywhere near as badly as the skunks and their awful stench, his aroma did contain a somewhat overbearing resemblance to singed fur, and rightly so, as we can well understand. It was not long before Skidander was put out of the common tree trunk. While his Pa and Mum, Skidad and Sway, were disheartened, the die was cast. He then went to exist among the skunks, regrettably so. Nevertheless, he could visit his good parents every now and again as the noble Squirrelly Council had voted towards.
 

Even the skunks were careful to allow him to join their clan, mostly because of his twitching behavior. But since he was found in appearance as a skunk, they soon forsook examining his squirrelly maneuvers. They wrote the matter off, rationalizing him as being pestered by some sort of parasite, most likely.
 

“Must be a wood tick somewheres on his back side,” pondered one fellow. Thus people today now label a person with a recurring and uncontrollable physical action as having a “tick.” It obviously all stems back to this time, but you have accepted all that now, have not you.

 

 CHAPTER 6
 

It was a time before Skidander was able to make certain any friendships among the skunks, both because he himself was wary of really becoming more like them (aside from just looking like them and smelling awful), and also because the skunks in general did not speak the same forest dialect. However, he soon found that skunks are much more likable than otherwise, and wondered why nobody else had come to realize this before he had. Also, before he had half a chance to adapt to the skunk’s special dialect, he made a friend. Skidander had made a new friend! As is often the case with friend-making, two individuals must have something of a common ground, a sort of like-mindedness about each of them.
 

Such was the case with Skidander and his brand new buddy, Pinkerdon. Pinkerdon Stinks was his whole name, and although it may be borderline offensive to us, it was a name noble among skunks, much like Washingtonmay be to us. Pink, as he was affectionately called by those close to him, spoke with a thick Scottish accent (so thick, his words often got stuck in local farm ventilation shafts and air filters, and they even used some of the juicier phrases to wedge open nearby shop keepers' doors and the like). So, despite the language barriers, you see, Skidander could make sense, with ease, of Pinkerdon’s conversation because of his own experience with his own chosen accent.
 

“Ripe bloodae mornin’ foh burrowhin’, eh? Mae thinks ey’d rethar frolick amon’ te draagonflaes dun bay te brooke!” Pink would pour out into the air his thoughts like great billowing clouds of smoke up into the atmosphere.
 

“Say, chap,” Skidander replied that first time, “quite fine prop of a speech you’ve been a-thriving on there!” That’s precisely how the two of them met, and have been carrying on ever since – thickening up the air. Most mornings, they converse so much, a fog builds up on the hillsides around them, and some folk know it as evidence that the both of them have just passed through.

 

 CHAPTER 7
 

At times, they would get to arguing (mostly concerning who started an argument and exactly how he had), which usually resulted in chasing all around in hopes of giving the other a noogie (it is a most dreadful happening to receive a noogie, so they always expended the very last bit of energy before giving in). Skidander always had to ultimately flee Pink’s strength if he hoped to bypass a particularly dastardly noogie because Pink was the considerably bigger one of the two, and if Skidander did not get in a quick noogie before Pink knew what nooged him, he lost all hopes of giving him one at all.
 

Whenever Skidander ran, it was never in long, even strides like a horse when it gallops, but always in a jerkily fashion. This also made it near impossible for Pink to catch him. He would take off, quick as pressured water from a plugged spicket, then achieve a fast stop, halting abruptly like a dog running out of a length of leash (but with utmost control at all times), only to jolt off again in another direction. Even if Pink did manage to catch up, he would then end up tripped up and altogether falling over Skidander, who never let Pink fall on him, but just sped off, just escaping his reach and out of his grasp to see him tumble over onto the ground.
 

This all happened at enormously ridiculous speeds and was quite the spectacle to watch (especially to be a part of). When Skidander used his twitching energy to run away from Pink (something rather productive, at least for the time being), he could harness it to control his limbs to reach ludicrous speeds, the type of which Pink could not compete with, regardless of his superior size. Those were the dynamics of their chasing games, or at least to the farthest extent they ever aspired.
 

It would usually end as Skidander ran up into the trees, with Pink calling up, “Cheat...yau cheater!” as loudly as possible.
 

This, however, more often than not awoke nearby possums, who always squeaked back something together and just as loud, “Shad ap, all you blustering, foul menaces!” So then they would politely stop their fun, for fear of being awakened by the same sort of means by the possums later that night, when the roles would be reversed.
 

But this was not without first shouting, “Bat Rats, Bat Rats, grumpy sleepy Bat Rats!” (with their accents, of course) as they ran off together, dodging the nuts and pine cones the possums would bitterly throw until they were out of range (and maybe one more after that, thinking, “that’ll teach ‘em!”). It never did, though, and if they got hit with a few too many projectiles, or if Skidander was badly tripped up by a possum as he fled away through the branches, Pink would return later when they had all settled back down (or is it up?) to sleep and spray a bit here and there to remind them not to be so serious next time.

 

 CHAPTER 8
 

During these highly enjoyable times, their daily pastimes mostly consisted of bothering hungry pooh bears, temporarily frightening sheltered hobbits as they came out of their shelters, as well as giving the Otter Gang a run for their money. Skidander and Pinkerdon and often some others had traveled all over the region before too long, in search of nothing short of adventure, instead of the haps hereabout. However, those two adventurers strictly stayed in their familiar neck of the woods, and for good reason, since they had to be home again each night. Everybody knows there is no place like home!
 

They hung around with the raccoons because they were tough and did not care much about foul-smelling folk (they are into poking through garbage you know). That is, they hung around long enough to consider that those same raccoons started to steal Farmer MacDouble’s corn. Then Pink and Skidander realized Farmer MacDouble needed it more for himself (and, besides, it did not taste as good uncooked and rough—kind of like the cold, left-over garbage scraps too). They had also heard of what had almost happened to the rabbit Cottontail and knew from his example not to provoke any farmer, especially Farmer McGregor, who has a nasty reputation for being out to get the likes of them.
 

Skidander did not mind eating the food those same farmers put out for the birds, at least when he could get it, because he had always shared his food with the birds and knew they would not miss a little seed when there was much an abundance of it. Besides, Skidander wasn not overly good at cracking nuts, and when berries were scarce, bird seed sure beat eating grass or as it else were garbage scraps.

 

 CHAPTER 9
 

It was around this point in the squirrel’s life that Skidander took on the role of an official adventurer, beginning to explore areas on the fringes of the fields and forest where he made his home (among the skunks, no less, keep in mind). To become a true explorer, he must leave no stone unturned. In other words, Skidander felt he had to be nothing short of absolutely thorough. He wanted to either prove that it was “a small world after all,” or learn that he had met his match by trying to stray from his familiar neck of the woods. He had even made an official bronze badge to pin on his fur coat; however, it proved too heavy as he speedily leapt and bound between the tree branches.
 

He intended to memorize everything, everywhere as he went, only to later draft up all the appropriate maps (if he really could remember it all by that time in perfect actuality). In addition, he planned to tell no one of his original idea: this endeavor would be without Pink’s help, or any other creature’s for that matter, according to Skidander. It was primarily for this reason that Skidander chose to depart after dark, seeking one starry night to pay a visit to what the locals referred to as the cave labyrinth.
 

At first, Skidander thought to ask a bunch of lounging bats (nice and friendly ones, not to be unsafe by any means) “hanging” out in the forest-top canopy if just a few of them might locate the very highest tops of trees. Bats have a way of determining that, he had been told. Actually, he had been advised by many-a-friend that bats outmaneuver and exceed the abilities of the rest of the forest creatures by using a special, imperceptible “sound” blast. Not to be feared, and with their help, Skidander could follow up there over the entire forest to see where it reached or even ended. But then it hit him, as he daydreamed (even though it was night-time), that those bats would most likely seep out the story—the story of Skidander’s exploits, and before they had barely begun.

 

 CHAPTER 10
 

Thank the heavens Skidander was not already up at the forest’s high-peak as he daydreamed all of where he was to be; otherwise, not paying attention, he might have had the opportunity to fall from that great height. Without bat’s wings, or even without wings the likes of Spunker’s, Skidander would in all probability have had a worse accident through a fall than that of his Enlightening Incident. Temporarily putting his “batty” notion (of trying to scope out the world) behind him, he returned to his searching for the notorious cave labyrinth. To have lived through it would be a feat surpassing many-a-rival.
 

Once inside the cave labyrinth, not only would Skidander have to make sure he did not doze off (because it was to be already well past his bed-time) before he may return back, but he also would have to be aware of the various pit-falls. There were sure to be the ranks of creepy-crawlies to try to avoid, as well as a host of unusual and unpredictable, although not altogether insurmountable, navigational difficulties. These were sure to include spills into water pools, slips down wet tunnels, close calls with slime and grime, as well as outright encounters of the dark kind.
 

It was still twilight, between sun and moon, as it was neither bright with light nor overshadowed by nightscape. Skidander would have to find the cave labyrinth at least before the black shroud of sky rolled away the day. Right about then, in the distance, he heard a barely noticeable breath, breathing “Wwhoo.” Before thinking twice, and knowing just what the call sounded about, Skidander headed for cover. It was Night-Owl!
 

But Skidander did not know this area of the greater forest well enough to temporarily barge into someone else’s home. He had to move fast enough to get out of Night-Owl’s range, but not too quickly as to alert Night-Owl of his presence. Then, another even louder sound struck at Skidander’s perked-up squirrel ears. It was the bats!
 

They had collectively become aware of Night-Owl as well and were on the move. The next thought to hit Skidander’s mind made his brain hit a brick wall. He even stopped running and ducked behind the nearest tree trunk in the mesh of forest-cover. Did not the bats all live, or at least “hang” out most of the time, in the caves. He could possibly follow the noise, the multiple flapping of their mammal wings (and perhaps a bat-screech or two), to some kind of cave entrance, accomplishing two goals at the same time. Skidander could both escape the threat of Night-Owl and also get himself to an entrance of the cave labyrinth!

 

 CHAPTER 11
 

“It’s gotta work!” Skidander screamed silently as he regained his momentum. Reassured, he continued to hear the bats, noticing they were apparently swinging to the right. Skidander went around to the right, passing trees of all dimensions, scurrying over large exposed roots, and jumping up a length of terrain.
 

“Is there jest no one else out here?!” reasoned Skidander to himself as he realized he was on too high of ground. The bats continued on, this time straight ahead. Skidander slid down below, but feared that Night-Owl had already spotted him just earlier. “Could he keep up with the bats?” and “Where, precisely, had Night-Owl gone?” were two of the several hyper-questions racing through his poor-little-squirrel head as his legs began to run by themselves, since he was almost too afraid to run himself. Something was coming up.
 

“I sure hope my hopes won’t be dashed here, because I definitely do not want to become owl-pellets by sun-up,” was Skidander’s last impression before hearing leaves rustle way up above within a whistling sound. It had to be Night-Owl! Oh, no!! The bats were still within reach, and began to steadily move toward ground level more and more. Skidander did not know whether the cave’s entrance (there was to be only one choice tonight: the way the bats would choose to use) was higher or lower than ground level. While he had assumed it would be nearer to the forest floor, he begrudgingly admitted it could somehow be high up as well.
 

Skidander had to decide quickly, figuring Night-Owl would not let his chance for a fit, tasty squirrel to slip by. Just then, he heard one bat, then two, then four screech (or was it just all echoing around him as he hurried in fury). But it did not sound like an ordinary screech. It all resounded in Skidander’s tiny ears as..."Flyyyyyy!!" Were the bats trying to help him on or themselves? The only way he could fly, since he did not possess wings, was to ascend higher and try to jump further and further as he had in time past.

 

 CHAPTER 12
 

The bats kept screeching incessantly. Night-Owl began his descent with a resonant swoosh. With a dose of courage, Skidander resolved to follow his ears and the thought in his heart to go higher, not what he saw or the racing of his pulse. He would meet the bats through the trees. Up a wide barked tree he scratched, leaping onto the first large branch. It was as if the bats were on his side now. They flew lower; Skidander climbed until they were almost at the same height.
 

Skidander danced left, then left, left more, and right again. In his mind, Night-Owl would not be able to guess his next move. He forgot, momentarily, that Night-Owl had the higher ground and much better eye-sight than anticipated. Amidst the varied confusion, a third great noise entered the race. It was the rushing of water. It was lots of water, so much so that it engulfed both the sounding of the bats and the nearness of Night-Owl.
 

Skidander was running out of places to run. The bats shot strait for. . .the water of all things. Skidander shot his gaze back for a split second and. . .Night-Owl was to sink his talons into his back within five seconds or less. Now, with a conversion screen, the bats raged into the pouring water. [Five]...one slip and Skidander was to be the main course for the meal! [Four]...no turning back for Skidander no matter what! [Three]...listen to the bats, and fly, Skidander fly! [Two]...Skidander pushed off another and another branch and leapt using all his power as Night-Owl’s wings enwrapped the whole of him as they both streamed through the air. [ONE]...water flew everywhere, Night-Owl pivoted violently backwards, and Skidander broke through what seemed to be an entire colony of bats. Bam, bats, bamm, bam, bam, bats, more bats, oh no, Bam. He hit the floor of whatever this new place was.
 

As he skid across the wet ground, it dawned on him, “Ohh, it’s a waterfall!” After a well-deserved breather of about what must have been seeming ten full minutes, Skidander looked up and saw all the bats and more so, clinging around behind the waterfall. He was about to ask whether this was indeed an entrance or even the only entrance into the cave labyrinth, and as he opened his shivering wet jaw, all the bats started screeching again and all at once (or so it seemed). It was then that Skidander knew he was to get no answer to his question, and even if it was blurted out; it would not be heard over the bats and wouldn’t be heard by the bats. Perhaps they were still upset from all the bamming; bamming into the bats. The plan at hand was to go onward, onward to wherever this waterfall entry was to lead. With Night-Owl prowling on the outside, anything on the inside seemed somehow more worthy.

CHAPTER 13 (Pocket-Choose-Your-Own-Adventure) look for “=” at chapter break

Skidander dashed back and forth again and forth and back some more, as squirrels do. It was dutiful, to him, but to the bats it might have been bothersome unless they were sleeping during the day. For now they just winked with peering bat eyes as they perceptively flew in and out of each others’ mingled and intermixed presences. Though it was noisy from the waterfall, Skidander could tell there was more in the air, alas from the bats. Senses.

What seemed sensible was for Skidander to scurry up one side of the cave. For the reason that it was not muddy there, though it was damp everywhere, Skidander refigured that he could climb upwards and outwards like on all-so-familiar tree bark. Then and there a bat eyed him “real severely” at precisely the same moment Skidander realized full well that going up was not going to get him outside. See to it, he recollected himself less dizzy but all the more frantic. The entrance was far above through the water, and only the bats could do it just so.

The rest of the dark room was deeper than Skidander thought, but also narrower than he anticipated. So and so as Skidander attempted to gaze and acquaint himself with this supposed neutral area made him realign his view over and over again. How now did those bats have room? Why try to skid more than once down the jagged and wet wall and lessen chance to proceed. There was need for a cause for a break, and also for Skidander to cease to shiver enough for some strength to stand both his engaged victory and his narrow safekeep. Skidander paused, and then, and then, just at that his tail pop-puffed up just as big as he is and dried in the moment of a trite thought that was not too trivial but neither tempted.

Right about then at about the same instant the bats had settled down to…hang, hang out I suppose. Skidander took the hint that they were to get warm again the whiles they dried even more like he was, too. There as Skidander stilled, he turned ever so imperceptively to stare into the boggly wink of one of the bats, there approaching next to him with its wings balancing open as it hopped closer.

“Hey, who??” Skidander queried, but he knew without a thought. Skidander dared not fold his arms, and as an alternative put one of his two limbs on his hip. Quickly but not to be noticed much, Skidander haunched down on all fours and spun all the way around once. The near bat proceeded to congratulate Skidander by clasping his own two hands, that were already lifted up with his wings, snug together and move them together around his beady head as he intently looked to smile just all the more. Skidander got it and he knew all the bats knew he should know he was saved and safe. Hooray! Again the nearer bat took both of his sides and wings to stretch and reveal what Skidander should know. There was, by where this bat’s wings’ tips shared, a water flow, below.

Oh, through the chasm, and Skidander knew it would befit well. Then again, would he have to hold his breath, or for very long? A swimming squirrel, who would have caught thought!? Meanwhile the bats got rowdy again, meaningfully moreso. The bit Skidander understood from them is that they would be apt to get him out the waterfall from inside out of this bat cave and if Skidander would not bemoan a bunch of them politely picking him up, flapping their many wings together, to go ahead and toss him back out the way he arrived within. The very near bat grinned gladly and Skidander also appreciated his options. So Skidander now had a corresponding choice to wisely activate, though Night-Owl was likely dangerously awaiting somewhere just outside. What the one bat meant they meant collectively altogether, to go get a new exit via the stream head, though the bats might help Skidander again through the waterfall somehow. How to, and of which, were the questions Skidander anticipated, and the choice fascinated him too.

= s k i p to Chapter 17 if you have Skidander float about and out the stream head…; 

s k i p to Chapter 14 if you have Skidander brave against the trial of Night-Owl (this is the Alternate Ending to Skidander Squirrel’s story)…

CHAPTER 14 (Pocket-Choose-Your-Own-Adventure) look for “=” at chapter break

Skidander was not tired, but though he tried to get back out the waterfall, the task left him rightly daunted. The bats had an idea though and as they started helping him one or two at a time, Skidander saw just what to do. The collective bats’ wings were strong enough to hold the waterfall fall from watering in a space for Skidander to seep back out, through to the forest canopy, again.

The bats were quieter as they concentrated. Skidander knew this to be opportune, that he also knew though to be a peril unparalled, to him. For the bats, they did very well to gap an opening not too low neither too far up in the waterfall, and Skidander began to fidget in preparation. It was going to be like a circus lion leaping through a flaming hoop, only Skidander squirrel squared the fire was on the other side, not in the jump.

With a clean, positioned, and sided grab on the cave wall for a split second, Skidander triple jumped from the cave floor to the cave wall and to out the bat(s) makeshift forest-view escape, or was that an escape that should require further finesse, some fight. The beginning of the triple jump and the middle were each ordinary, those of expert squirrel jostle, but again the part three had some of the bats reacquire a wall perch of sorts as they went back in to the cave, and many others thoughout to the night skyscape. The one bat who was sensing about Skidander on the cave floor, near Skidander as he lept and bounded and catapulted back through the waterfall (batty opening), was about, yes was, the only bat making a fuss as that bat echoed something higher than a mouse squeak but more less than a hawk craft call. Skidander was very sure the friendliest bat was saying something to him.

Two things happened immediately as Skidander affixed to a near tree trunk’s scattery rough bark. Skidander was pondering afterward what the friendly bat stated, but Night-Owl had perceived it too. This went something like this. Skidander had a vision of Night-Owl, though Night-Owl was nowhere in sight, thought on thought. Skidander heard Night-Owl’s wing feathers ruffle-rustle as if the two of Skidander and Night-Owl were just next to each another. He, Skidander, quickened to know that Night-Owl heard the bat friend from out of the waterfall, but what the standing bat was saying to Skidander was perhaps meant only for Skidander. Skidander heard it again in his squirrel head just then. “Come…something.” Then it was on his ear, “come through,” but did Night-Owl hear it and now it meant that Skidander has to use this knowledge to escape not the waterfall, but Night-Owl.

Bats do not often echo to squirrels, preempted Skidander. This bat was a friend, Skidander kept. The bats now that went out of the waterfall were not waiting for Skidander to figure it out. They were echoing again, and moreso. Come, through, Skidander multiplied the meaning. Night-Owl could see Skidander, but Skidander could not see Night-Owl. The bats “saw” every thing all at once. Night-Owl was quiet enough, to anticipate his meal and to make sure of if it would be Skidander, a squirrel snack. “Come through” to Skidander was not a one time thing, and this was the thing Skidander would use.

The one trip back, one triple jump out of the waterfall was the one bat friend spoke to Skidander then, and greater than this was the outside bats’ saying on and on for Skidander right then. Night-Owl had an interpretation on the whole in a while, and the wind changed. Skidander spiraled the tree trunk, about a few quick-breaks as he turned and turned and turned, and stopped thinking, to start following the bats, as he had at the run from Night-Owl away to the cave by the waterfall way in. Skidander could hear it, Night-Owl’s wings extended all the way out; Night-Owl was about to leave his perch. Skidander stood on his haunch on a tree branch, a big enough one to go to another tree from. Those bats were circling back as Night-Owl, in the air, picked Skidander out of the forest growth.

Off in the forest, oft, Skidander knew all the animial kinds had places they stayed. Though this partition of the forest, all these tree holes and dug dens under the leaf cover this time of year, were not known. Skidander listened to the bats, because of the friend bat and it was time to come through with the bats. Just at that, most of the moving bats hung on a tree over against Skidander peeking through many trees and, like the bat echos, perceived the precise spot the bats hung, then headed right there, in a trust to why.

Once upon the same tree, those tough bats were hanging out and pointing down. These were two trees, together and right tight between them was an opening big enough, or was it small-fit, for squirrels. Skidander skid in, out of the reach of Night-Owl for good, and the bats were slyly smiling just the same, on a readying to rising, anywhere they may roam. Meanwhile Night-Owl was high in the moonlight, soaring, and whether he was really hungry or only spending the night out, Night-Owl was neither dangerous nor in sight, upon Skidander’s new escape.

What Skidander then knew was that this was a good tree place of more than one use. Skidander could hide here from Night-Owl reaching him, but the bats, who were hanging upside down, pointed or seemed to be pointing, downward. The dual tree cove was also a hatch into, were it some creature’s den. Skidander peered in to the tree-between, betting in himself for if he could tell something of this. The bats were smiling, or is that just how bats appear, no fear, or not affected. Someone woke underneath. This was a den all right, and soon in that very night Skidander found out that this was the second, or at minimum some other, entrance into the cave labyrinth, good to go into and exit too, different some from what the bats had in their waterfall cave.

Skidander noted the location, had of that he was onto something, and contrived for a second if he would ever even enter the labyrinth of the cave, or keep track of where it led or what it was good for. For now, there were at least two ways in and out, both found but one easier. Those happy bats happed to help Skidander thus far with “cave labyrinth” goings. Whether Skidander would “come through” the cave labyrinth would be for time else conceived. Skidander was sufficed, safe for good in this forest’s section, and Skidander, satisfied from himself, got excited about what about not just forest directions, but under the forest, as he could play with his friends during the day, or hang out at night as well. Very good and well done, for Skidander Squirrel’s would wood.

= “Alternate Ending”: T H E

                                                         N

                                                        D

 CHAPTER 15 (Pocket-Choose-Your-Own-Adventure) look for “=” at chapter break

Then it was that Skidander, sleepy and winky, stilled himself still for a length of a while, though he stayed daydreaming. For how long it might well be, Skidander hisself will have to perform for us at these moments of storying. These scenes has Skidander recollecting his own rehash of a waking surprise in a day Skidander squirreled through and all about, now only in the past couple, that is to say a few, weeks ago now. This was still Skidander, but Skidander daydreaming, and until Skidander wound more altogether awakened.

To this new day, it was yet night, and within some caves. The chamber of his visage kept his furr-kempt tiny head strangely unaware of stark difference between the darkened surrounding caves and Skidander’s own sleepy head. Skidander was up, that is upright, to say the least of how his animal body position arrayed, at a haunch, with a fevered glance. Skidander at trance envisioned somewhat he had already lived through, previously. For Skidander’s story here it is verily a new bit.

Girl squirrel Thetre skid once, and there she was, next tree over to Skidander. Seeing Skidander had just then finished down some water, he figured Thetre might be thirsty too. “Has your morn drink been thought on, Thetre (they knew who each other were)? “

“You know I like coconut milk, Skidander?” Skidander always queried her on palm trees, how that they were what birds who flew south chirped of. Skidander knew what Thetre was right around the corner of getting at. Thetre liked to like, like she liked Skidander.

“Nuts, and coconuts as you like, are for squirrels,” Skidander emphasized to assert. “Of what all ails, I alike like as you like,” Skidander dared, going on about which, “now not to ache my luck, I will to lurk on to lock a look of life in a lump less my limb encounter…!”. Skidander paused when as he knew about just what Thetre might, doing in her own maneuvers of endeavors.“Find me, Skidander, founded, where I leap as the land should lend such lark in much laud without lack, afore your limb heals (I’ve and we’ve all heard, Skidander!),” Thetre half sang as she dangled from the same trunk, in reflection of Skidander’s beady eyes. “Shall I see you inside summer beside the stream bested?” Thetre told to taunt.

“Would the wood now know, Thetre,” Skidander called back from under her ‘own’ tree, “the dreaming stream is to find again a waterfall, the like is love.” Little did Skidander encounter by that timing that the labyrinth waterfall was to become an interference of inference of his life adventure, that of value and of more laud of Thetre than Skidander would believe if he and her could keep it straight, directed around about all they started to share.

“What in doing do we share, Skidander,” as if Thettre told what Skidander was tinkering thinking, “as long as we care so, and so ‘der’.” This was Thetre girl squirrel’s abrupt call to short the conversation, knowing Skidander-der liked to too (he should by the time he went into more of the daylight). These two loved to rebound and drill each other on their l-l-like, where they did not only hide in the tree branches, but in the layers of similar starting words as of “like” then “love” and today several others all the way to “limb” because the whole forest has heard of Skidander’s encounter, apparently, evidently, hauntingly but taken a liking, nonetheless. Skidander and Thetre had to leave now, in that order, under cover of noon clouding, for what they liked to be founding. For Skidander it was his adventure, and Thetre heard more and more, and as Thetre grew, they waited though not assuming, only dreaming their sure stream, as they liked to have it squirrelly-whirrled in themselves.

= c o n t i n u e to Chapter 16, straight ahead following immediately

CHAPTER 16 (Pocket-Choose-Your-Own-Adventure) look for “=” at chapter break

Of the adventure: Life has to be more than adventure, though the adventure is what it has. Skidander accomplished that he had somewhat to find to achieve, and Skidander knew at least of which that what Thetre liked and what he liked were along the same line.

Pink wound to help Skidander think thunkings, then all those he met and knew and Thetre too helped to help. Skidander refigured Thetre could be found throughout whenever it was ever he jabbered with his Skidad and Sway, that he liked also to call his squirrel folks by their proper names. Thetre was next to him, in the forest, and in his paw across his heart; she was not over him, and he having come over to her neck of the wood should be a keep in Thetre’s own contrivance.

Skidander started to see the big picture. The place he was, the forest, was a whole place, and the place of the forest was placed somewheres in the countryside, and all the places Skidander having been connected more and connected more, until Skidander would gather from all sides and angles and found that direction was in the directions. “Very directed directive,” he can hold his little limbs and tiny head in a pure squirrel way, “Skidander, you detect all direction one way to say there is directive in the directions.”
Now Skidander’s shadow would move by the time of day, and dear Skidander would see to it how direction was shown from above, the sundaylight all the way down to him, Skidander. This, it was foreshadowing of what his adventures were more than, that his directive was in the directions. Skidander was not about hints and directions for cooking or gimmick readings. The directions he configured were on the land, in the ground; Skidander’s directive was everywhere Skidander went, and so Skidander’s adventure and his directive (directions as he went) were interlinked and Skidander himself had a lock on his life. Where else a like in Thetre, what a luck to live, and Skidander meant in view of both the same like and the life he squirreled (we would say walked) about, in and through, all the way from up above to, well, Skidander. For now Skidander was in the trees, getting a becoming direction within the directions. Likened in front of him, Skidander by now noticed that more and very much more light was reverbating off of the surrounding cave walls and walls, but could not tell the way out except when a very near animal hole showed a way back out and it was, again, very near. Skidander thanked and scurried up out, to where, Skidander would find out in the while, and Skidander smiled on top of smiles.

= s k i p to Chapter 27, and finish the story at 27 -28 for “Short Version”

 

[continued in dual column, go on t'day]

 CHAPTER 17
 

Ski-dan-der hesitated right before he hurried, slid, and bounded into the running water. There no sooner had he plopped in that then it was he was underneath for a second or was that a few seconds, and, and then he was deposited on a level recourse edge of the cave. The thing was this thing of water travel was over before it began and was like when people dive from off a diving board to simply grab the ledge ladder afterwards.

As it was time to dry off once more, now the moonlit walls from the dim light beyond the waterfall eased Skidander’s way. On, and on, he went until at long last he could not last any longer. When Skidander realized the forest creatures did not call the local caves a labyrinth in vain, he did not feel as bad when he knew he was caught in a seemingly endless maze of turns, ups, downs, and returns. Then Skidander noticed one more haunting observation. He halted his pace. The cave labyrinth was spookily quiet. More than that, it was and had become entirely silent since his entrance earlier that evening. Skidander figured he was so far inside the labyrinth, the outside noises ceased to be. If he was not so spent, sleep-deprived and exhausted from heavy travels, Skidander would have been scared out of his wits. Was there really anything to fear though?
 

So Skidander lay down...for just a moment...or two; you know, a ten-minute nap...and no more. He yearned this would cut it to regain enough strength and stamina to re-enter his quest.
 

Skidander did drift off into sleepy land, but it did not seem long, and the case has it that he could tell about how very long he slept. He lay half-way in dream-land and half-way in reality, the cave-reality at that. At first, he envisioned food, lots of food, and, no wonder; he was quite hungry again by this leg of his journey. This almost became a nightmare as none of the food reached him, only passing by to gaze upon as it were.

 

 CHAPTER 18 (Pocket-Choose-Your-Own-Adventure) look for “=” at chapter break
 

However, Skidander ended up dreaming somewhat about where he found himself: actually the opposite of the cave labyrinth, which was mostly in pitch black darkness. Only an occasional bit of moonbeam would bounce within the mazed corridors from time to time. In tonight’s dream-realm, Skidander visited a family of polar bears (there was a Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and one Baby Bear, cute and fuzzy and—well, you get the picture). As the night vision went on in seemingly unending continuance, Skidander’s dream went where some kind of a time warp paralleled. It went along the lines of the Bear Family sharing in a disagreement which turned into a dispute and further turned into a rolling brawl. Then, the paradox of it all was when the dream-story returned to start over at the beginning again, as the flip of a coin. The Polar Bear Family’s disturbing discussion (be sure to note that they are always shouting because they are trudging through a blizzard!) went along this narrative:
 

Papa Bear: Brrr, it’s cold out today!
 

Mama Bear: No, it’s not that bad, dear...(aside to Papa)...We mustn’t let Baby lose heart in these our travels!
 

Papa Bear: Well, it’s still cold!
 

Mama Bear: At least be more quiet about it!
 

Papa Bear: It’s freezing out here!
 

Mama Bear: Shhh! No it’s not!
 

Papa Bear: Yes it is!
 

Mama Bear: No. It’s Not!
 

Papa Bear: YES IT IS!
 

Mama Bear: No!
 

Papa Bear: Yes!
 

Mama Bear: No!
 

Baby Bear: (to all) They’re cold to each other!
 

Papa Bear: No!
 

Mama Bear: Then you concede it’s not cold out!
 

Papa Bear: No!
 

Mama Bear: No, you don’t concede, or No, it’s not cold out?!
 

Papa Bear: No, Baby was wrong!
 

Mama Bear: Yes! Let’s stay warm to each other!
 

Papa Bear: Brrr, it’s cold but not that cold out today!?
 

And on the story went, someway repeated over and again, until...
 

Skidander slurredly spoke in his sleep, “brrr...it’s cold...but not that cold out….today.” With a wink...blink, blink, he awoke! As he rubbed the “sand,” or shall we say “snow,” from his beady eyes, he became aware the quarreling of the polar bears was only in his head, and not in his bed. Skidander momentarily thought upon its meanings. He concluded that the disputes correlated with the blizzard: the growing and receding of the Bear Family’s feud directly paralleled the repetitive bluster and calm of the snow storm in his dream. It was a complete bright-white backdrop overshadowed with shiny white figures. The result was a scene of white, entirely white, and nothing but white.
 

How ironic for one who had just lived through the literally darkest part of his heretofore brief life. Even squirrels partake of night dreams where they would rather be somewhere else besides where they find themselves in the real of reality. In Skidander’s case, his dream was the white of his wishes as opposed to the black of his circumstances. And since many to most squirrels are gray it all evened out by the time he woke.
 

= s k i p to Chapter 15 if you have Skidander live awake through a daydream (this is a shortened version of this Skidander Squirrel’s story)…; OR

= c o n t i n u e to Chapter 19, straight ahead following immediately, if you have Skidander go the long way home from out of the cave labyrinth to his life calling (this is the longest version of this Skidander Squirrel’s story)…

CHAPTER 19
 

For now, he was damp and proceeded to shake himself of the water pellets as he had seen dogs of all kinds do the same. Before he had the chance to think about how desperate his stay in the caves had become, poor young Skidander heard a not-so-distant noise. He was still too groggy to be at all afraid. After another almost instantaneous movement beyond him, a shrill voice pierced the former repose.
 

The noise that followed was not too loud, to be sure; just the same, it had so startled Skidander as to make his short fur stand on end much like a black cat’s is prone to do. Skidander’s spine shuttered as a light, harmonic voice echoed around him nearby.
 

The words seemed to surround Skidander, engulfing his ears, which had since become temporarily used to hearing the silent nothingness within the labyrinth. Entrenched in paralysis (later to be dismissed as part self-induced and part other-worldly—altogether unnecessary to say the least), he had no choice but to hear...of all things, a compliment.
 

“You’re lucky,” rebounded off the cave walls, likewise penetrating into Skidander’s head, “few outsider creatures dare to venture inside this mega-maze and live to discover the Exit.” Skidander wondered why such a wonderful voice even existed in a supposedly empty place. He also gathered “outsider creatures” referred to any animal listed in the field and forest world (above, at this point, so he guessed). Besides the vast assortment of bugs said to reside inside the labyrinth, Skidander could not decide who the spark-of-a-statement might belong to. Exactly who had come and gone in and out of the caves? Now to think of it, what was he to do concerning his own new-found predicament? Furthermore, what was he to make of that sudden-like voice and the “Exit” it spoke of?
 

Each of these questions made Skidander’s stomach feel a bit squeamish. He was also feeling a bit slow for a squirrel. To make up for all this, Skidander began to “think on his feet” as he got to his feet, quickly picking up his end of the conversation. To respond to someone you cannot see takes nerves of steel; nerves Skidander might have once possessed, had he not dumped himself inside the bowels of this present piercing darkness.
 

“I’ve only been here a wee-bit of a while, yau know,” quivered Skidander’s bursty recoil.

 

 CHAPTER 20
 

After a moment of pause, as well as further busy movements (closer as it seemed), a few more uplifting words resounded, “Although you talk in your sleep more than you listen, with luck, no one but me heard you!”
 

Was this reassurance for Skidander or a plea of insurance on the speaker’s part? Skidander was blustered for a second and abruptly resonated back, “Exactly how far did yau stretch your reach of eavesdropping?”
 

Another instant passed, and then the voice returned, “By my luck, I know your name is Skidander.”
 

Skidander did not wait this time, adjudicating back, “A fair thing by now would be for us to have a two-sided introduction,” knowing his own eyes were not growing any more accustomed to the ever-so-very thick lack of light-luster, which would perchance let him look upon his speaker.
 

A full minute or so went by as Skidander stood amazed at this “softly-loud” one’s preference to wait before answering. A herald arrived eventually, boldly declaring, “Luckily, the ranks of my colony did give me a name: by more than chance I am called Luckly Splunkler.”
 

Skidander pretended not to be pensive, even though he really was filled with thought, and flew the phrase, “Can I call you Luckly?!”
 

Luckly hardly pondered this once before volleying back, “By sheer luck, you may!”
 

“Great!” echoed on and off the walls by Skidander, “Besides, I’ve got a cousin named Spunker, which sounds much too much like the other half of your name.”
 

“All’s well that ends well. . .even names, right?!” countered the one dubbed Luckly.
 

By this time in their conversation, Skidander became aware that the veiled voice, now known to belong to Luckly, was almost right next to him. This gave Skidander the heebie-jeebies; he did not like the fact that Luckly was so near because he could not see in the dark to tell what kind of animal Luckly was. For all Skidander knew, Luckly might have been a snake...or something...anything...worse! Just what kind of creature roamed freely in a pitch-black labyrinth in the first place? In any case, they had not spoken to each other for more than a few seconds, so Skidander thought of what he could say.
 

CHAPTER 21
 

Right at the exact moment Skidander opened his tiny squirrel jaw to ask, “Sso, whaat bringss yaou herre,” Luckly chimed in with precisely the same question. No sooner had one begun and finished their inquiry than the respective other had as well.
 

They each uniformly started answering back again at the same time, “Sorrry, yaou firsst....”
 

This time Skidander, with his naturally gifted speedy reflexes, realizing they were stuck speaking together in such a manner, immediately took the bull by the horns so to speak, and interjected another few thoughts.
 

“Not only will I ask what brings yau here, but first let me know just whatyau are, as far as creatures go, that is,” sought Skidander.
 

“I’m mostly a cave dweller as far as creatures go,” responded Luckly.
 

“Very well, chap, but being as close as yau are to mae, what’s to say yau won’t be devourin’ mae anytime soon?” Skidander replied. Skidander was ready to fight back tooth and claw at a nano-moment’s notice, realizing at the same time that flight (or running away) was near impossible since he could not see anything in the impenetrable darkness of the labyrinthine caves. There was absolutely no depth perception whatsoever.
 

“Oh, come on now, friend; what’s to say I wouldn’t have already made a feast out of you all the while you were sleeping?! Remember how I heard you there talking in your slumber?” remarked Luckly.
 

Skidander felt embarrassed for both being concerned about the matter in general and also for accusing Luckly. So Skidander came back with, “My sincere apologies, Luckly; so you must belong down here, huh?!"
 

“Like I said, I dwell in these caves, but my home is near the Exit,” returned Luckly.
 

“Ah yes; that’s where I need to be heading; yau must know the way then,” mentioned Skidander with intrigue.
 

“I was about to let you in on that secret plus one other. . .and then you’ll know what kind of creature I am too,” alluded Luckly.
 

Skidander was speechless when he knew that Luckly was going to share a precious secret with him. “I wonder whattype of animal Luckly happens to be?” he thought perceptive-like.
 

Just as Skidander was about to interrupt his own overinundating with some statement, Luckly proudly proclaimed, “Behold my ability to overcome the night and its shroud of darkness. . .let there be light!”

 

 CHAPTER 22
 

Then without warning, the surrounding cave and other nearby caves came to life, brightening up with a spark of light from right above Skidander’s little head. Light bounced everywhere he could see, and then, a split-second later, it was dark again.
 

“Now, look up!” commanded Luckly.
 

“WOW, you’re a firefly,” remarked Skidander as the cave walls redounded with light again. Just then, as Skidander rolled over in awe and amazement, laughing just a bit at his fine fortune, Luckly whistled long and loud.
 

“I’m calling for a few of my friends,” informed Luckly. Soon that cave room was filled with voices of varied conversation. Most of Luckly’s fellows were astounded and perplexed to find no less than a squirrel in the labyrinth. Before too long Luckly addressed the curious crowd with a prolonged, “Shhhhhh; listen up for a minute my comrades. If we can all work together in this, to help our new friend, named Skidander, get out of this here labyrinth with his life, we’ll save the day (or should I say save the night), and become heroes of sorts,” Luckly suggested.
 

After a brief consultation with much shrill sounding chattering, the lightning bugs came to a consensus. “We’re all in,” came the collective reply. Skidander was beside himself with glee; he was going to get out of this alive yet!
 

“Hooray for today!” shouted Skidander. He shook the muddiness off from himself and began to look around. He already knew which way to go because the fire flies had formed a big lit-up arrow pointing to the cave to the left, just ahead of him.

 

CHAPTER 23
 

For the next what seemed like nearly an hour, the kind bugs produced their special lightning light, making clear arrows directing where Skidander was to go. Whenever Skidander slipped up from going onwards and upwards through the caves, a little laughter would take place among the fireflies, but Skidander did not mind all that much. He was just overall happy to be escaping the labyrinth. He took no thought for any bragging rights once he was to get out though, for it was not through his own ingenuity or expertise that he found the Exit. It was rather by the opportune aid of Luckly and his lightning bug pals.
 

“Yau guys keep laughin’, but try an’ remember, yau all can fly and I have to but climb,” scolded Skidander. More chuckling resulted. “I guess these bug-a-boos can’t help it; it must be in their nature, like laughing hyenas or something,” recollected Skidander to himself as they neared a different looking cave which contained moonlight.
 

“And here’s your exit, indeed the Exit of the infamous cave labyrinth,” exclaimed Luckly after a short pause.
 

“I give you a million thanks, Luckly and friends. . .oh, thank you,” Skidander offered with tears of joy in his eyes. “But how do I get way up there,” he equally set, for this last cave Exit was very tall and seemingly insurmountable.
 

“You should be able to shimmy up that rope with your squirrel’s claws, Skidander,” taught Luckly.
 

“Sounds promising, Luckly; will I ever see yau again,” Skidander sobbed just a bit in expectation.
 

“By sheer luck, you may!” Luckly said with excitement.
 

“I sure hope so, because otherwise I would have probably been left for dead in the caves,” recounted Skidander. As he began to skillfully, almost playfully, climb up the thick rope, the moonlight grew brighter and brighter, until he approached the round top of what apparently was a well’s mouth. “Thanks again!” echoed Skidander’s gratitude down through the cylindrical tube of brick. “I made it,” he thought as his head hit the well’s bucket by accident. “Yikes, watch it there,” Skidander told himself after the fact.
 

He found a pile of fallen leaves, covered himself with a few of them, and rested, waiting until the morning rays of sunshine the next day. Visions of the night’s escapades floated through his brain as he drifted off to sleep for the second time that night.

 

 CHAPTER 24
 

The next morning some ants hauling food supplies for their local ant colony woke Skidander as they traveled over Skidander’s make-shift bed of leaves. “Where, where am I,” Skidander asked himself in a sort of hazy daze. Neither asleep in dream-land nor fully awake, Skidander began to push and brush the leaves off of him. The resulting work helped to wake him up to the point he realized why he was where he was, even if he did not recognize just where it was he was to begin with.
 

Granted Skidander was never in this part of the forest before, he still had a sense of direction. His internal compass, if you will, had him on the move just as soon as he got his bearings. His keen sense of smell told him much of what was nearby as well.
 

Skidander could smell some raspberries over in a close-by field clearing. First he re-checked the well’s opening for any sign of Luckly and his fire fly fellows. However, they were long gone. Off he bounded towards the raspberry patch for the breakfast he required. Run-and-hop, run-and-hop as his squirrelly manner was to move along.
 

This was a wild patch of raspberries, so as soon as he arrived at the lot of them, he began to eat. After a few minutes, he was feeling full, enough to burp a bit. Now he was thirsty.
 

He perked up his little ears and heard a brook in the distance. Off he bounded once again. When he got there he took in a deep, long refreshing drink of cool stream water.
 

Suddenly his bliss was interrupted by a harsh croak or two just downstream. “What’s that sound?!” Skidander tried to guess. It was followed by more croaks and also some bizarre squeelish-squawky sounding noises. He decided to incorporate his stealth maneuvers to quickly and quietly approach the commotion quite aright.
 

Around one tree, over through two more trees, and finally, through a thicket leapt Skidander. He put his back up against a particularly wide tree trunk, and stuck his head out around the side of it. Straining his tiny ears to hear what was going on; he seemed safe enough where he lay undetected, but of course.

 

 CHAPTER 25
 

He could now both see and hear the conversation between what seemed to be a huge blue crane and a little unusual-looking bear. The bear was stranger than any bear Skidander had ever seen. It was all black and white, having large, distinctive black patches around its eyes, over its ears, up its legs and across its round bear body. “Exactly what kind of bear is that?!” Skidander thought out loud as he scanned the surrounding area for the cub’s mother bear. Who knows if it was just around some round of trees, looking for a nice meal of squirrel? Skidander lie ready to pounce up any tree at a moment’s notice to evade the uncanny and unscrupulous mama monster bear.
 

It was too late. Skidander blew his cover by thinking out loud. Both the black-and-white coated baby bear and the tall crane turned full around to see their eavesdropping neighbor. “Who’s there?” squeaked the bear as the crane peered intently through the thicket.
 

Skidander froze. What if there really was a mother bear someplace close to the baby. Nevertheless, he gathered all his courage and strength up at once and broke through his paralysis.
 

“Who said something?!” croaked the towering crane as the baby bear fearlessly sprinted towards the sound on all fours, ready to clobber the intruder.
 

“Look, I’ve got jaws of steel as well as opposable thumbs with claws,” screamed the little guy as he bare his sharp bear mouthful of fanged teeth.
 

“Yeah, but I’m a whole lot faster than the likes of yau!” informed Skidander as he readily bounced up the tree he formerly had his back to. Once he made it up to a large and long high branch, he skillfully leapt over to a second tree’s limb. “See, you’ll never catch me or even catch up, and even Mr. Crane there won’t be able to fetch me down, seeing his cumbersome size,” vaunted Skidander.
 

The baby bear leaned speechless against the tree trunk Skidander had originally went up and seemed dumbfounded at the new-found stalemate of affairs. “Well, the clever squirrel’s got us in a dead-lock, Panderoora,” struck the crane. “We might as well get back to our dispute of territory. Leave the squirrel alone and see what becomes of him,” informed the croaking crane.

 

 CHAPTER 26
 

Skidander was surprised how what just happened, happened to happen so very quickly. He decided to stay where he was in the forest canopy and listen to what the two antagonists had to say to each other. He smiled knowingly, because he knew he was without their respective reaches, up too high to care or bother a whim. Skidander sat with his arms (or front legs, depending on how you view them) crossed under him. He looked a bit like the Cheshire cat grinning away way up there.
 

“Alright then, I already told you Grimmm, I marked this entire area with my scent to claim it as my own territory,” squeaked Panderoora, which is the small bear’s name apparently since the crane addressed him as such.
 

“That’s absolutely unnecessary, since I’m already in charge of this region as the keeper of the pond,” assured Grimmm, which is the bird’s given name. “Every creature throughout these whereabouts knows I oversee both this local marshland and the plain as well as the main pond,” Grimmm went on. “Do I need to call together my enlisted references? It doesn’t matter how much of this area you mark with your scent, Panderoora; I’ve patrolled it for years by flying through its borders and then some. Besides all that, I eat the snakes and other baddies who trespass these parts, keeping it free of offenders!”
 

“You call those qualifications so great, Grimmm? Just who do you think you are anyway?!” imposed Panderoora.
 

“Well, I happen to be one of the Great Blue Herons, that great. My family lines are drawn way back in these parts, as far back as thousands of years back. We were named by Adam himself in the beginning of the creation, even before the great flood. And what, may I presume are your qualifications, the benefits you will bring to this realm?” demanded Grimmm.
 

“I was told by my parents that I am one of the last surviving Giant Pandas in existence on this planet,” indulged Panderoora as he continued. “Am I what the world of men call endangered!; and ‘tis rightly so, for we are extremely few in number, even in captivity.”
 

“Wait just a minute, Panderoora,” interrupted Grimmm. “You don’t think to say you’re giant, do you?! That’s quite ludicrous, seeing your stature,” jeered Grimmm.
 

“I happen to still be a cub, and besides, how do you think I escaped from between the bars at the Zoo?” Pandora showed plainly. “It’s because I’m just a baby Giant Panda of sorts. It wasn’t but a few weeks ago that I was pink and about the size of the thickness of one of the bamboo shoots my parents are so fond of chewing on,” Pandora further revealed.
 

“Hold your horses, Panderoora; now I know why I didn’t think you belonged altogether in these parts,” croaked Grimmm in retrospect. “You won’t even be able to survive out here once you hit adult-bear-hood. If your parents live almost exclusively on bamboo, and there’s no bamboo at allin this particular forest, by the time you require it, you’ll be forced to go without it, and then what will happen to you, my little Panderoora?” outlined Grimmm. “Just what have you been living on so far and for how long?” doubly asked the Great Blue Heron.
 

“You don’t have to stand in doubt of me, Grimmm; I’ve been not only surviving, but thriving on nuts, berries and whatever I can find under the sun,” proudly proclaimed Panderoora. “I would have tried to catch a fish or two, but it seems you herons (among other fishing birds) depopulate the pond’s stock to an excessive degree!” incited Panderoora.
 

“Sounds like you’re on a squirrel’s diet, minus the fish which you haven’t caught any of anyway,” examined Grimmm. “By the way, I think he (that pesky squirrel) is still up there, and he’s listening to us. Who’s to say he won’t claim this territory too,” guessed Great Grimmm good enough.

 

CHAPTER 27
 

Skidander shifted his body weight on a sturdy high tree limb when he heard Panderoora the baby panda and Grimmm the great blue heron refer to him. Little did they know he was far from home and that his own “territory,” if you could call it that, was not nearby. As he uncrossed his tiny front paws and sat upright on his hind legs, he decided to direct a remark or two their way. “I thought I’d seen it all, until I saw you panda-what-who; a giant panda even as a youngling of that type is certainly a peculiar creature, at least to gaze upon,” Skidander threw his words down to the two debaters. “I dreamed of some all-white bears (they’re called polar bears I believe) only recently, but you take the cake, my young acquaintance. And I thought the skunks were the only creatures that were colored black and white together,” Skidander portrayed.
 

“Before you do go on and on about happenstance, I have to tell you that I don’t recognize you as belonging to these parts, because the forest ends here at this brook and from here on out is only marsh for miles. Squirrels do not belong in marshes you know,” Grimmm explained.
 

“Yeah, so what’s your story,” Panderoora chimed in.
 

Skidander did not want to allude that he did not know where he was. At least he did not know where he was going to next later on that day. He was simply fulfilling his dream of being an explorer, an official adventurer. He kindly relayed this information to Grimmm and Panderoora down to the last detail. He told them of his adventures up until that point, including the cave labyrinth, which they had a hard time believing, even though it was all most true. Grimmm and Panderoora were astounded at all Skidander had lived through and accomplished, although he was simply a common squirrel. From the mishaps to the friendships to the victories, it all seemed one huge blur of adventure to them.
 

Grimmm and Panderoora extolled Skidander for all of this, including highly praising his story telling talents; but when they heard about how he wanted to draft up maps for the region, they got especially excited, a liking because this was it, just now how Skidander was up to something productive.
 

“Once you map out places around here, the animals wouldn’t have to disagree as much over disputed territory, like Grimmm and I have today,or did you well know,” assured Panderoora.
 

“Yes, and we could learn all sorts of things, like where creatures lived, and make new friends like we have today,” reassured Grimmm. For, while these three conversed with each other, Grimmm and Panderoora had put aside their temporary differences and became friends instead of adversaries that morning. They all agreed to help Skidander with his mapping endeavor for the surrounding landscapes, minus a labyrinth Skidander meandered summed up by many foresters, even at, at the least, a deliverance.
 

= c o n t i n u e to Chapter 28, straight ahead following immediately

 CHAPTER 28
 

It was too late for Skidander to resist enlisting others’ help, for he realized he could, in his small size and Grimmm’s enormous size, fly on the back on Grimmm’s body as he flew overhead, giving Skidander a bird’s eye view of the areas he wished to map. Besides, Grimmm could not fly and write at the same time.
 

Not only that, but they conceived an awesome plan together to return Panderoora safely to his current Zoo home, despite the fact that it was not his natural habitat, or only a captive residence. Since Panderoora in these stages growing and growing was so small of stature (despite his grand notions of being a grown-up fronting “bear”), he could also easily fit on the back of Grimmm’s extensive wing span and be flown overhead, above the city and back to the Zoo. They would have to do it under cover of night, otherwise they might be found out in broad daylight.
 

According to Panderoora, he was still small enough to squeeze and slide through the cage bars whenever Grimmm would deliver him back to the Zoo locale. It would be better off this way, since Panderoora would receive all the bamboo he would ever need while back home at the Zoo. He was beginning to miss his parents at this point in his own adventures anyway, for he was still but a lad, whatnot as one little panda, just the same giant.
 

Skidander soon wished to return home to his neck of the woods, to visit his Pa and Mum, Skidad and Sway, again. This is not to mention his old pals, especially Pinkerdon. This was not without first bringing with him rolls and rolls of elaborate maps of his finished work of his home forest and surrounding region all the way to the city of men. This of it could make up his life between Skidander’s parents and show his squirrel ways should stay still on the back of Grimmm, all of which Skidander sure would. As he grew older, he reveled in what he had shared with his fellow creatures and everyone hailed him as the true adventurer he was.
 

It was sometime after all this took place that the folklore story of how storks deliver babies came to be. Even though it was just a baby (giant) panda delivery this time around, the news somehow, someway got out that a stork (we know it to actually be Grimmm the Great Blue Heron) delivered it. Of course, we know that it probably only happened once and that it was not a new-born baby panda. The rest is just a fairy-tale as far as explanations go.
 

So if you ever see a great blue heron flying high and swift, squint your eyes and try to see if you can see a smaller squirrel on his back. Sure as sure can be, it would be old Skidander still making maps of your own town in his own squirrelly way.
 

Now go out and fulfill your own daringly dutiful dreams of your own lively adventures and do not forget to document your travels someplace, sometime along the way. By mapping routes and regions, Skidander Squirrel’s saving of other young creatures from strolling or sauntering sure should. Is that why most forest folk seem to know just what they’re up to? Both or either: helping or living, Skidander Squirrel would.
 

T H E

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:: General Guide ::

^ To assist guardian readers (parents, grandparents, babysitter) though the “Pocket-Choose-Your-Own-Adventure” portion/s of “Skidander Squirrel’s” readings-story (a children’s story for the young-at-heart), here are two things to know, as a hint and then also a Chapter Map like Skidander Squirrel would, but here this author C. T. Eck, for us, any of you preferring. First, the “Pocket-Choose-Your-Own-Adventure” has about two turns inside the bigger 28-chapter tale called “Skidander Squirrel’s” that provides a distinct choice between a “Short Version” and “Expansion Version” of the same children’s story, but first has about an “Alternate Ending” on the way. The Chapter Map is this: read from the opening chapter One (1) to chapter Thirteen (13) not matter what, and then if you would like to do the “Alternate Ending,” choose-your-own-adventure to finish at chapter Fourteen (14). Otherwise, choose-your-own-adventure to chapter Seventeen (17) and chapter Eighteen (18), where then the “Expansion Version” follows from proceeding chapter Nineteen (19) all the way the main end at chapter Twenty-Eight (28), OR meander the “Short Version” at the choose-your-own-adventure finishing chapter Eighteen (18), back into chapter Fifteen (15) through Sixteen (16), and then the same finale at chapters Twenty-Seven (27) and Twenty-Eight (28) , a continued choose-your-own-adventure. This is simpler yet than a whole-throughout choose-your-own-adventure on every chapter break, as may be is a traditional choose-your-own-adventure, however, this inclusion as instead only a “Pocket-Choose-Your-Own-Adventure.” Thanks for whatever trip you plan with mapping Skidander, in more than one sense, and that you may read any or each of all the twists, herein shown on ahead.
 

^ Several, some uncounted or so grand total, questions are for this general parent guided children’s story and / or for the young-at-heart. Divided up into 28 mini-chapters, this exceptional (A+ ?!) “Pocket-Choose-Your-Own-Adventure” tale helps those approaching to reading the whole story by breaking it up in case you leave some for later. There are a few words on the “bigger” side; that is, the vocabulary level scale for Skidander’s adventures proves to be more advanced, but not overly so. With plenty of “life and living” subjects to discuss, based on events sprinkled within this super story, an adult reader may want to be creative and start a discussion (afterwards would work fine, or before, to pay attention about as you read). The young-at-heart of all ages will appreciate and comprehend this fun and enjoyable fiction.
 

00: Question:

[not from any one given chapter] Yes, I was surfing the Internet on my big screen television, via YouTube about ‘animals’ and ‘squirrels’ were there with crows and some other video footage. What I quickly learned that I had not prior picked up was that there was one squirrel critter that was all white (presumed ‘albino’) and some other another squirrel that was completely black. So, I have never seen those before, anywhere. Perhaps needless to say, many to most squirrels are gray (Skidander! minus the electrifying alteration) and that also some squirrels be reddish, and but not as bright as a raddish. May this or does this tend to describe the verity creativity of our faithful Creator, that makes room for the same creature type, here squirrels, to be multi-varied and openly differing at least in colorscape, in a way, again as designation description/s of just how awesome the Creator is, knowing He created order and but in that order made room for just plain decent differences in such a good way that these make life, nature, and even YouTube even better and more fun? Gray, red, black, white, is that all; now color a page of on your own, squirreling, at your best behest.

01: Question:

[from chapter 1] These forest creatures spoke a common speech, most often of the region’s dialect, with minor differences, and some sang their words. What do you make of your common language, and do you appreciate the variations, in English for example if this is your own native tongue, like this writer on this “Skidander SQUIRREL’S” story comes to us as (English)? If you are multi-lingual, how much more do you appreciate that?

02: Question:

[from chapter 2] Skidander is reported of his ordinary childhood, or it is young-squirrel-hood. What do you make of the child years of your own life, or of these children this “Skidander SQUIRREL’S” story is read to? If your own childhood either was or was not ordinary, what would make it even more ordinary (if it already was some, or could use a dose of “ordinarily” haps)?

03: Question:

[from chapter 4] This “Skidander SQUIRREL’S” story told of how Skidander did not want a matter repeated, yet it was shared all the more. What do you make of tale/s that are told even when they are not supposed to be? If you do not want to talk about something or a dear one near to your heart tells you not to say more of a matter, is it important to keep it secret, or does it still get disclosed?

04: Question:

[from chapter 7] Skidander and Pinkerdon were into their fun. What do you make of not being so serious in calling others names (though this is not of their proper name/s, only what of calling them of various descriptors)? If you do not like to be called names, do you also not like to call others names as well?

05: Question:

[from chapter 8] Skidander did not steal the Farmer’s corn, even though an accompaniment group became tempting to him as they stole. What do you make of deciding not to steal in the first place? If you ever stole something somewhat, could you make up not to steal more?

06: Question:

[from chapter 9] By this time in “Skidander SQUIRREL’S,” Skidander is become official adventurer, badge and all, or so. What do you make of being adventurous? If you like to venture places, what adventures are there for you?

07: Question:

[from chapter 10] Skidander planned ahead by esteeming what to avoid, should he go to the cave labyrinth. What do you make of making out your way ahead of time? If there is a view of peril/s, how much more or less important is it to plan well?

08: Question:

[from chapter 11 - 12] Skidander has a hard fought victory in the chase to escape Night-Owl. What do you make of thinking while on your feet, on the move, that is, versus planning ahead alone? If this is too intense, would you or would you not read it over again?

09: Question:

Do you like these as Pocket-Choose-Your-Own-Adventure/s? Did you know there are a total of three varying journeys throughout Skidander SQUIRREL’S story? These comprise all of a longer version, also a shortened version, and one alternate ending. 

10: Question:

What other or any questions have you made up during “Skidander SQUIRREL’S”? For instance example [from chapter 18], how does the essence effect of Baby Bear’s (inside Skidander’s dreamscape) -perception- for towards both his parent Bears together reassist in altering their family’s collective day out, plus did Baby Bear save-the-day by making a simple statement that got the ball rolling to spark his own parents’ reconciliation, whereas without him they (Papa Bear and Mama Bear) might not have done any much about their concern/s?

11: Question:

What do you make of the title for this multiple-story, “Skidander SQUIRREL’S”? Know it is regarding the possessive case usage with ‘’s’ and is meant to be of his, ‘Skidander’s’ though not necessarily “skedaddling” along as all squirrels hap and do their respective due. Here, ‘SQUIRREL’S’ is in all caps, to connotate stressing this is indeed a squirrel story, albeit of one, adventurer Skidander!

12: Question:

Skidander Squirrel would what? What of your wood (home, route, region)?

[Oncoming little commentary of +4 little things for all the young-at-heart because younglings little ones may have this storied story read to them to encourage family time and all family combinations Or even setting the solitary in families because of the Church/es like otherwise some may sum.

Your use may also re/consider to pray for '4+ Holy Studies Of Bible discipling' that this Author was also converted to for how I would that I would have been, and several many of my 'teachers' are FaceBooked, and advanced thank/s.]

DAD/ICATION:

Hereby “Skidander SQUIRREL’S” story is dedicated to one of the author’s two-three colleges he attended University, because as this author’s first higher education class act, on “seize” (or, that is, “C’s” – not “seas” though Carthage is on a great lake), is for some of named though fictitious creatures inside this story, and that having often been slightly altered herein, preempted to preclude, for altering usages, less than the actual original perhaps ongoing or, at that time of schooling, some likely previously existing places or organizations, and as for bearing no prevailing involving resemblance to those things that this at-times-rewriter happed, visited, or used by, so lately thought on for a story. “Skidander” got started as a squirrel story for a college Fantasy And Allegory class enrollment assignment.

© Copyright 06042017 C. T. Eck. All Rights Reserved. [Update 10172023]

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