Mickey woke up some time later, but he wasn't exactly sure how long he had been out. All he knew was that he had a killer headache. He sat up, yawned, stretched, and got up, only to wind up swinging in circles, and falling flat on the floor.

CRASH!

"Ooof!" he shouted. "What the . . . ."

Mickey looked up, and figured out why he had crash landed on the floor. He had been sleeping in a hammock. He looked around, and noticed that the hammock was inside what looked like a cottage. He saw a window, and looked outside, and saw that he was in the woods.

"That's weird," he said. "How'd I end up here?"

As Mickey thought that over, he heard a bark, and Pluto came into the room, followed by Figaro. Once the orange dog saw his master was awake, he ran to him, and began slurping.

"Okay, Pluto, easy, boy!" Mickey laughed. "Down, boy, down!"

Once Pluto stopped slurping, Figaro began rubbing up against Mickey's legs, purring, until Mickey started petting him.

"Hello to you, too, Figaro," he said. "Do either of you know where we are?"

"You're at my house," a voice said. Mickey turned to the doorway, and saw a girl, possibly in her mid-twenties or so, come inside. She had long, wavy strawberry blond hair in a ponytail, green eyes, and freckles, and wore a sleeveless green dress with ruffles at the shoulders, a white apron with red trim, wooden clogs, a red scarf on her head, and a necklace with a key on it around her neck. She was carrying a basket of apples.

"Who are you?" Mickey asked.

"My name's Robyn," the girl said. "Your cat and dog came to my door yesterday afternoon, and led me to you and your friend."

"Oh my gosh, I almost forgot about Donald!" Mickey shouted. "Where is he?"

"Come with me," Robyn said, putting her basket down on the table. She led Mickey down a short hallway, and then opened a door. She put her finger to her lips, signaling Mickey to be quiet, and went inside. Mickey followed, and saw Donald laying in a bed, sleeping soundly.

"Is he all right?" Mickey asked, quietly.

"Well, he had a pretty bad bump on his head when I found you," Robyn said, "but I think he'll be fine after some rest."

"Oh, that's good."

"Now stranger, why don't you tell me who you are? I figure your friend's name is Donald, because you mentioned it, so what's yours?"

"Who, me? I'm Miiii . . . ."

Mickey stopped himself for a moment. He wasn't sure if he should tell Robyn who he was, considering he was a wanted mouse. He was afraid Robyn would try to turn him in like the blacksmith had.

"Marvin," he said, finally. "I'm Marvin."

"Nice to meet you, Marvin," Robyn said, sticking her hand out. Mickey shook her hand, and smiled.

"Nice to meet you, too," he said.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, we're not. We're kind of lost, and we don't know how to get back home."

"Maybe I can help. I've lived here in the woods my whole life."

"That'd be great, but I'd kind of like to wait until Donald's feeling a little better. He's kind of been through something . . . . I'm not sure what, but he's definitely been through something."

"I could tell. And I agree with you. He's in no condition for traveling, that's for sure."

"Yeah. And, in return for letting us stay here with you, I'll help out with chores and things like that. I don't want to seem like a freeloader."

"You've got yourself a deal, Marvin."

Mickey and Robyn shook on it, and went into the kitchen. Mickey's first official "job" was to wash and peel the apples Robyn had picked.

While this was going on, Mortimer was watching, and growing more irate with the situation.

"Argh!" he shouted. "That mouse drives me crazy!"

"What are you complaining about now?" Chernoberus asked. "He's far enough out of the way."

"It's not enough I want him out of the way. I need him in prison! Or better yet, pushing up daisies! Why don't you just let me kill him, already?!"

"Trust me, Mortimer, that's not a very wise decision."

"You seemed to think it was fine for the duck!"

"We didn't necessarily kill the duck, now did we? We only made it look like Mickey killed the duck."

"Yeah, well . . . . even though he's nowhere near Toon Town, he's still gonna come back with Donald, and prove his innocence . . . . unless of course . . . . ."

"What are you thinking, Mortimer?"

"Unless of course Donald bites the big one before Mick can get him back here . . . ."

"I've told you before, Mortimer, it's not a good idea to murder . . . ."

"I'm not talking about murder, you stupid sorcerer! Watch this!"

Mortimer cracked his knuckles, and waved his hands around.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this magic stuff," he said. "Ha-cha-cha! Mickey won't be going anywhere for awhile. Especially with Donald in the condition he's in. And he certainly won't come back with a dead duck! So I'm gonna keep that duck sick as a dog, and then some!"

Mortimer thrust his hands at his TV, and a strange glow surrounded Donald. When it subsided, it appeared that nothing happened.

"What did you just do?" Chernoberus asked.

"I just gave the ol' quacker a little bug," Mortimer said, rubbing his hands sinisterly. "One that won't be easy to shake . . . . if it can be shaken, that is."

"You're very determined to keep that mouse out of your hair, aren't you?"

"You'd better believe it, baby! Ha-cha-cha! Minnie Mouse will be all mine soon enough!"

Mortimer began cackling madly at that thought. Chernoberus just stared at him as if he were nuts.

"I think this guy has a few screws loose," he muttered.

Back in the woods, Mickey had just finished peeling the apples. Robyn started slicing them.

"So, what's cooking?" Mickey asked.

"Quite a few things," Robyn said. "I'm making some apple pie, apple butter, applesauce, and apple cider."

"Wow, that's a lot of goodies!"

"That's how I make money. I have a bunch of apple trees growing outside. I use them to make pies, cider, and sauce, and then I sell them in the village. Sometimes, I pick the apples off the trees, and sell them directly to the fruit vendor in the village. You know, I heard some nut stole his fruit cart last yesterday, and destroyed it, along with all his fruits. Poor guy lost a fortune."

"You don't say . . . ."

Mickey laughed nervously, hoping Robyn wouldn't notice, considering he was that nut who stole the fruit cart. Thankfully, she didn't. She just went outside and began sweeping her porch, as she was sweeping, a man wearing an old fashioned English policeman's uniform came up to her.

"Pardon me, ma'am," he said. "I'm from the village constabulary. We're trying to find this mouse. Have you seen him?"

Robyn took the paper from the constable, and studied it. It was Mickey's wanted poster. Only this time, it had theft and resisting arrest added to the charges on it.

"Hmmm . . . ." Robyn said, thoughtfully. "He looks a lot like . . . . . but it couldn't be . . . . could it?"

"Beg pardon, ma'am?" the constable asked.

"I think I might have seen this person, constable," Robyn said. "But I'm not sure. Would you mind if I got back to you on this?"

"Not at all, ma'am. You know where to find me if you have any information."

Robyn nodded, and went back into her cottage.

"Oh, Marvin," she said, in somewhat of a sing-song voice. "I need to talk to you."

"Oh, sure, Robyn," Mickey said. "What's up?"

"Would you happen to know this Mickey Mouse?" Robyn asked, handing Mickey the wanted poster. "He looks exactly like you, I noticed."

"Eep!" Mickey shouted. "I, uhhh, that is I, uhh, umm, uhhh . . . . no, no I don't know him at all. You know it's said everybody in the world has a double. Heh, heh."

"Mickey . . . ." they both heard Donald moan from the bedroom.

"Did he just say Mickey?" Robyn asked, giving Mickey a look.

"Uhh, uhhh, no, no, I think that was just the wind," Mickey said. "Ha, ha."

"Mickey!" Donald called. "Mickey, where are you?"

"Oh boy . . . ." Mickey said, nervously.

"I thought so," Robyn said, glaring at the mouse.

"Wait, wait!" Mickey shouted. "I'll tell you the whole truth, honest! Right from the beginning, and I can explain the wanted poster, too."

"Okay," Robyn said. "Start explaining."

Mickey took a deep breath, and started his story, right from the beginning.

"So I only stole the fruit vendors wagon to get away," Mickey said, as he finished the story. "Only I didn't really mean to steal it . . . . and I really didn't mean to wreck it, either. I just didn't see the ditch. And I only told you my name was Marvin, because I didn't know if you'd seen the wanted poster yet, and try to throw me in jail like the blacksmith did. And that's the whole story. It's the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me Walt!"

"Well . . . ." Robyn said, thinking it over.

"Aw, gee, you've just gotta believe me!" Mickey shouted. "You can see I didn't murder Donald! And . . . . and I only lied to you because I didn't want to get thrown in jail for something I didn't do! I was just trying to get back to Toon Town with Donald to clear my name! Really, I was!"

"All right, then. I guess I'll just have to trust you."

"Hot dog! Gosh, you're swell, Robyn."

Robyn smiled, and went back outside to finish sweeping the porch. Mickey immediately went to the bedroom to see what Donald wanted.

"Okay, Donald," he said. "I'm coming, and I can explain where we are, and . . . ."

Mickey stopped short when he saw Donald. He looked terrible, even worse than when Mickey, Pluto, and Figaro found him in the castle dungeon. His face was flushed, and he was shaking a little. He opened his eyes about halfway, and Mickey could see they looked a bit glassy.

"Donald!" he gasped.

"I don't feel very well, Mickey," Donald said, weakly.

"Yeah, and you look even worse," Mickey commented. "I'll be right back!"

Mickey then ran outside to the front porch.

"Robyn! Hey Robyn!" he shouted.

"What's the matter?" Robyn asked.

"It's Donald! Come in here, quick!"

Robyn dropped the broom, and followed Mickey to the bedroom. Once she saw Donald, her eyes widened in shock.

"What happened?" she asked, walking over to the duck.

"Yeah, I don't think a bump on the head could cause something like this, could it?" Mickey asked.

"I don't know," Robyn said, shrugging. "I'm not a doctor. Hang on a second. I'll be right back."

Robyn quickly left the room, and returned shortly thereafter with a thermometer. She stuck it in Donald's mouth, and she and Mickey watched nervously as the mercury inside of it kept rising, until it reached the bulb, and then it exploded. Pluto yelped, and dashed under the bed.

"That's not good," Robyn said.

"What do we do?" Mickey asked.

"You stay here. I'll go get the village doctor. He'll know what to do."

Robyn dashed out her door, and Mickey went into the kitchen. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket, and dunked it in a bucket of water Robyn had. He wrung it out, went back into the bedroom, and placed the handkerchief on Donald's forehead.

"Does that feel any better, Donald?" he asked.

Donald only moaned. Pluto crawled out from under the bed and whined, and Mickey pat him on the head.

"I don't know what's wrong, Pluto," he said. "But we're gonna fix it."

Figaro meowed, and curled up next to Donald. It was about all he could do.