A/N: I'll make up a sort of new phrase by saying that this is a 'ghost chapter': there if you want it to be; not there if you don't. It's from Pipsqueak's point of view, and it's basically just a bit of an insight into the little Bar-ba-loot's thoughts on the situation. So it's pretty much a rather short filler chapter, and not a lot happens. But it was... interesting... to write, so I hope you enjoy it!

Pipsqueak's POV

I expressed my concern to the best of my ability, but it only resulted in my imminent removal from his side when I tried to help in the task of getting him up. Unfortunately, the Lorax lifted me off my feet and set me down a bit further away as he tried to shake his friend to awareness, asking what was wrong, what he should do. There was no answer from my troubled human. I crouched quietly behind a fold in the sheets as I tried desperately to keep myself from snuggling up to him; which was the only way I could express my own version of a futile attempt at comfort. I didn't know what was wrong, but something was definitely not right.

I had felt the air of sickness emanating from my friend not a few days ago, and had made sure to check up on him every day. He seemed grateful for my presence, and I was just as happy with his. There's nothing like a warm, cuddly human to scratch your fur and keep you company... and the marshmallows were a cheerfully accepted bonus. Marshmallows were so light and fluffy, and the thought of them filled my mind with joy. I could swear that the little white squishy things contained mystical powers that existed for the sole purpose of making me cheery.

A desperate cry brought me back to the present where my marshmallow-giving human was coughing and struggling for breath. He didn't open his eyes again, so I assumed he must have gone to sleep, but the odd pace of breathing and the lack of colour in his face suggested otherwise. Why was he in such a bad way? I turned my eyes questioningly to the Lorax. He glanced at me, sadly conveying his own thoughts on the matter before turning back to the relatively still form of my human.

"Y-you're gonna be all right, kid," he said, but I could tell he didn't know for sure. His confident voice was laced with a sort of sad... ness. Sadness, that was it. Maybe. I really had to start learning the basics of verbal cues. My Uncle Martin was trying to teach me, but it was a lot harder than not bothering at all. I couldn't even speak out loud, for goodness sake! Sometimes I thought Uncle Martin was a bit odd in such ways; he seemed more interested in everything he didn't understand than the rest of us.

I crawled cautiously out from behind the blanket folds, hesitating slightly. I was a little bit frightened that my human might pop up at any moment and scare the fur off my back, but the look on my Lorax friend's face told me that such a thing was not about to occur. My eyes widened as I got closer, a familiar picture cropping up in my mind. I saw the riverside; the dark, calm night that had been so rudely awoken by the earlier commotion I had accidentally instigated. My family, the Humming-Fish and the Swomee-Swans stood off to the side as the Lorax used a couple of my cousins to wake my dying human up. He was fine afterwards... wouldn't it work again? I walked over to the Lorax's side, leaning against him with a complete disregard for what he might think about it. He was startled out of his thoughts and jumped a bit, but relaxed once he realized it was me. I was cute enough that he really didn't care (yes, I'll admit I know I'm adorable). Even compared to him – the mystical guardian of the forest – I was very small – only about half of his height. My human friend, however, was a big, friendly, skinny giant. A very sick, big, friendly, skinny giant to be precise. I was startled out of my thoughts by the Lorax's rough but gentle voice. I couldn't tell if he was talking to me or to himself, so I just sat and listened with a light air of not listening at all.

"I can't even tell what's wrong with 'im," he said. "He says he's got laryngitis, whatever that is. It's not lookin' so good, Pipsqueak." When I heard my name I perked up, showing him that I was being attentive.

"This is wrong..." he continued after a pause, the determined hardness I detected in his voice was smoke screening some odd emotion I couldn't figure out. He swallowed hard, saying no more. I nuzzled into his arm and he scratched me absentmindedly behind the ears. I felt his tenseness ease a bit, but apart from letting him take comfort in the fact that I was here to give help when needed, there wasn't much more I could do for his mood.

That part was up to my human.