NICK WOKE UP IN WHAT WAS UNDOUBTFULLY THE WORST POSSIBLE WAY TO BE BROUGHT CONSCIOUS.

She was dangling a mile above the ground, a sort of metal claw gripping her around the waist. The sight of the tiny treetops below was enough to make her go unconscious again, which would have been the more preferable option if she had just been a little more scared of heights.

The claw around her waist was freezing cold, jutting into her side comfortable. It didn’t feel like it was tight enough to keep her from falling, yet because of the awkward way it was positioned, Nick also knew her ribs would crack if the claw gripped any tighter.

She hung upside down, her head swimming. The long, though very fragile-looking chain that connected to the claw creaked with protest as she twisted and turned. She tried to scream for help, but a familiar, cotton-like substance seemed to block her throat. If she had been so scared and panicked, she may have realized that it hardly took screaming for people to notice a little girl dangling in mid-air from a giant claw connected to a UFO.

The claw shuddered suddenly, like a car turning on its engine. And with a jolt, there was a great creaking sound, and the claw began to lower again. Nick felt strangely like one of the stuffed animals in the claw machine in arcades. She made a silent vow to never get another one of those, before her mind filled once more with panicked thoughts mostly consisting of “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Nick could see the trees in more detail now, like a video game slowly loading its map. But the more Nick could see, the worse her panic got. Originally, it had looked like a giant mass of fluffy green foam. As she got closer, the foam magnified, and was now full of prickly thorns and deadly pointed branches. It no longer looked like a desirable place to land, and fear quickly built up within her chest. Cartoons of people and animals tumbling down trees and hitting every branch in a belly-flop began to rapidly replay in her mind. She could almost hear the thump, thump, thump her body would make as she tumbled down, though it was difficult to tell if it was just her pounding heart.

It’s not fair! she wanted to yell. Girls my age get pounding hearts and butterfly stomachs because of love! I get it because I’m about to get speared by trees! It’s not fair!

Almost instantly, a voice in the back of her head said, You’re right. It’s not fair.

The trees were looking very dangerous now. What had she been thinking, when she thought the trees looked fluffy? It was now obvious that trees were consisted mostly of big fat trunks and sword-like branches.

Nick began struggling in the claw, her mind not clear enough to realize that the claw was the only thing that could possible help her. Nick kicked and wriggled, making the chain squeak and begin swinging. It started slow, but the swoops were wider every time, and Nick soon found herself swing at the end of a pendulum. Wind forced tears out of her eyes, and her stomach felt like it was dropping out of her body. Her heart pounded painfully, and breathing felt like inhaling spikes.

Suddenly, in the midst of the chaos, a question was proposed in her mind that never occurred to her.

What am I doing here?

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It didn’t seem like the most appropriate time to pose this question, but Nick wasn’t thinking very clearly, and so she figured that swinging from a claw is just a good time as any other to contemplate deep thoughts and questions. The claw seemed to have stopped descending for the moment, and Nick had gone to enough theme parks and rode on enough of the pirate boat rides that the swinging she was experiencing now was bearable.

What you are doing here? a little voice in her head repeated.

There was definitely some danger, she recalled, holding in her breath as she passed a particularly tall tree without a scratch. I left someone behind. A really, white room—if it could be called a room at all.

Good, good.

It was more like the inside of a blank box, with no entrance or exit. And there was this person speaking over a loudspeaker that I couldn’t see.

Really?

No—not a person, but an animal. Something small—ah! A rabbit! That’s right!

She silently screamed a little as her hair got tangled in a branch, ripping out a few strands of her hair. Its teal dye was fading, leaving it looking grey and dry.

Focus! the voice insisted.

You’re up to something—I can feel it! You’re close!

Excited, Nick continued. Rabbits. Evil rabbits. All rabbits are evil. Then there was someone else in the room. I don’t think she—no he—was entirely human either. Bright red hair that no human could possibly have without dye. Also quite tall and angular-looking. What was he? Mus—Mushroom—

Think!

Mustache—Muster—Mustela! That’s right!

What else? What can you remember?

And then he said something to the rabbit that made the rabbit very mad—I remember that much. Something about…about me not being Mustache. And the rabbit said…said…

Yes? Come on! What did it say?

It said…

Oh, I know you remember. Come on!

It said…It will throw me off the ship and wipe my memories!

Nick suddenly felt an immense satisfaction. It said I had to be Mustela and I wasn’t so it told me I was to be thrown off the ship! But I said I would remember everything, and I threatened it. But then it said that it would come to get me and wipe all my memories when I’m asleep from gas. It might damage my brain but I’d remember nothing—

Then what the hell are you doing here with all your memories intact? The little voice yelled.

Before Nick could react, the claw suddenly opened, and dropped her.

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THERE WAS A HIGH-PITCHED SCREECHING.

Nick woke up, covering her ears. She could make out two blurry shapes, arguing. Checking herself quickly, she was able to determine that everything had been a dream. She was still in the ship, though not in the same room, which meant…

“Ah, you awoke,” said a familiar voice, but strangely small and weak. It was the rabbit, of course, but apparently the speaker had magnified its voice and made is sound so much more intimidating.

Nick did not answer. Her throat was still clogged up with cotton.

“I forgot to say,” the rabbit continued, “but the gas also gives you very vivid and peculiar dreams.”

Nick continued to rub her eyes, but no matter how much she rubbed, she couldn’t get the layer of thick fog that seemed to veil and blur her eyesight. She eventually gave up and decided that the rabbits must have done something to her eyesight as well, or maybe it was just a side effect of the gas.

“Mmrvb!” she protested, trying to speak. She blinked furiously, and felt around her. She was on a cold metal surface, but things protruding from above kept on tugging and tangling with her hair.

“You probably want to close your eyes,” said the rabbit.

Nick was confused. I can’t see much as it already is, why should I—

Then the ground began to vibrate and it looked as if the sun were pressed to her eye.