I would say that I own nothing, but I think Captain Jack Sparrow would resent the idea of being owned...

"The woods are patterned the same no matter which way you head," a lanky pirate told his companion.

"You mean we're lost, don't you Jack?" his rounder companion double-checked.

"Mr. Gibbs, I have no idea what you're saying," Jack Sparrow replied. "We've been searching these woods for a man with a trumpet for too long, and these woods do look the same."

"We are lost, aren't we?" Mr. Gibbs repeated. "If the woods look the same, then we must have been here before."

"Hogwash my friend," Jack denied. "I cut a patch of grass everywhere we went. This was to ensure we wouldn't get lost. Use your deadlights, Mister Gibbs. I see no cut grass anywhere, so we must not have come this way before."

"By jove! You're right!" Mr. Gibbs realized. "Then let's turn around and follow your cuts back out!"

Jack Sparrow and Mr. Gibbs had been traveling in a dense forest for over three days. Their supplies were running out, and it was harder to hike while carrying an armada of ships-in-some-bottles, a crossbow, an hourglass, and towing three goats. The forest had enough light for them to see, but the canopy was thick. There were many smaller trees which were decorated, none of which were exactly alike. When they turned around, however, they saw Jack's cut grass get up and walk away.

"Hornswaggle!" Mr. Gibbs exclaimed. "Are we loaded to the gunwall?"

"I believe not," Jack answered, "since we'd need rum to be loaded, and we drank all that supply yesterday. Now," Jack reached into his pocket, "since what I want most is a man with a trumpet..."

Mr. Gibbs saw that Jack pulled out his compass, the one that always points to what you desire. "Got a heading?"

"What a conundrum," Jack said. "It's spinning crazily. We must be standing right on top of him!" Jack tied the goats to a nearby tree, dropped the rest of his load, and started using his sword as a makeshift shovel to pry stones off the ground and dig.

"If there's a man with a trumpet down there," Mr. Gibbs told him, "he must be dead. While you dig, I'll take a look 'round; see if I can find something to help us."

With those words, Mr. Gibbs set off, looking for anything that could help them get out of the forest. However, scarcely had a minute gone by when Mr. Gibbs ran back into Jack. "Hey there good man," Jack greeted. "Found our something yet?"

"No sir," Mr. Gibbs answered, setting off in a different direction.

However, he soon returned to the clearing. "You know," Jack told him, "if you want to seek away from me, then turning towards me is not the right way to seek. To seek, you have to go one away only."

"But I have!" Mr. Gibbs told him, somewhat used to Jack's riddling speech. "I head straight out, never turn around trees, and somehow still make it back here!"

"Curiouser and Curiouser," Jack mused. However, Mr. Gibbs already headed off to try again. As soon as he was out of earshot, Jack heard laughter and singing. "Who's there but not there?" He called out, unable to see anyone.

Above him, in a tree, appeared a grin, followed by the rest of a pink and purple striped cat. "What are you doing?" The cat asked him, a bemused expression on its face.

"Well, I'm trying to find a man with a trumpet, while my companion seeks in circles for a way out of this forest." Jack replied.

The cat vanished. "I know where to find both," its voice came from the tree behind Jack. "They're right here." Said cat was now in the branches of one of the decorated trees.

Jack walked once around the tree and stared into the branches. It was decorated like a Christmas tree, but was very tall and wide, and had stumps along its trunk instead of branches for seven feet. Each stump had a unique ornament placed on it. However, after rounding the tree twice, nobody and no path appeared. "I don't get what you're saying," Jack told him. "Are they like you, here but not here?"

"They're through here. Hehehehehehehe," the cat laughed, disappearing the opposite way it appeared.

Confused out of his mind, Jack sat down beneath the shade of the cat's tree. A couple minutes later, Mr. Gibbs returned. "My good man," Jack greeted. "Have you solved your problem? It took you longer to seek back here than last time."

"No, captain," Mr. Gibbs answered. "But the most curious thing happened..."

"Were you told riddles by a banded feline?"

"Yes captain. How'd you know?"

"He appeared to me as well. What he said made no sense at all."

"And what did he say?" Mr. Gibbs prodded.

"That the man with the trumpet and the path out were right here. When I asked where, he said 'through here'."

"By jove," Mr. Gibbs realized, "this is the way out!"

"Excuse me?" Jack said, a little befuddled. "How'd you get what he meant by that?"

"There must be a secret door on this tree!" Mr. Gibbs explained. He and Jack then both grabbed an ornament within reach and pulled. Sure enough, two doors opened, but to two different areas. Shocked, both pirates slowly closed their doors. "How can one tree lead to multiple places?" Mr. Gibbs wondered. The tree's bare trunk was covered in ornaments; it'd take forever to search through them all for what they were looking for.

"Well," Jack asked. "did the cat tell you anything?"

"Aye, it did," Mr. Gibbs replied. "Twas a very befuddling riddler. He saw me trying to make a compass using the sun and a twig's shadow. He then said 'Don't trust the sun, because it lies. Instead, trust the star and its moon, for they lead you true'."

"Ah!" Jack exclaimed. "That's no riddle, but pure simplicity!"

"Sir?" Mr. Gibbs confirmed. He didn't believe Jack could get it so fast.

"Look, in the crow's nest of the tree." Like all Christmas trees, this one had a star at the top. "Now, all we have to do is find the moon... here!" Jack soon found a knob with a crescent moon ornament, four feet off the ground. Turning it, the tree now lead to a swamp, with the sounds of an expert jazz trumpet player ringing loud and clear.

"Slap me thrice and hand me to my mother!" Mr. Gibbs exclaimed. "You did it!" He then ran through. "...Jack? Does your trumpet player have to be a man?" Mr. Gibbs called.

Stepping through, Jack saw that the trumpet belonged to a lounging gator. "Curiouser and curiouser... He'll do. Bag him and take him along, our ship is..." he mused, pulling out his compas again. When he saw it stop, he turned around and realized what was shadowing him. "... right behind us!"