A/N: Quick little note, thanks again to the fabulous poet/writer/reviewer/good-ol'-buddy-of-mine Mica. Y'all need to take some time out of your day to go over and read his story, it's the bee's knees, the snake's feet, the Kegusaran's writing schedule, and some other thing that doesn't exist that may or may not be used to describe just how damn nonsensically good it is.

"So, I'm allowed to eat birds?" I inquired, casually munching on some sort of fruit. It tasted awful, and my new dental structure wasn't too happy with it, either.

"You'd have to kill it first, but yes, you can eat birds," Kenwall responded, munching on his fifth fruit. Both he and Sparrow had chowed down through their daily provisions and were sitting on the opposite side of the campfire from me. Kenwall leaned back on the log and let out a yawn. Sparrow took slow deliberate bites, her brows scrunched down and not giving any sign that they'd return to normal. The same could be said for the scowl on her face, to be honest, I think it might just be physically impossible for her to smile.

"But they talk?"

"Some do, aye, some talk."

"Are those... so those one are off limits? For eating? Right?"

The silence that followed led me to believe that I might have been a bit confusing in my question. That and the dumbfounded looks on their faces. Said silence lingered a bit longer than I would figure. I mean, was that really that idiotic of a question?

"Where exactly are you from again, Don?" Kenwall inquired.

"Nebraska," I repeated for the fifth or sixth time. That hour.

"Indeed... and that would be where?"

Oh God, I am not going through this crap again. Time for alternate conversation topic #7.

"So, how come you don't have a thick accent like the other rabbit?" It was a question that had been bothering me for some time. I think Sparrow was doing some sort of bad cockney, but to be fair I've never actually listened to a Cockney person speak, and from what I hear, Dick Van Dyke was not too accurate in his portrayal of the people.

Oh wait, this is somewhat old medieval England. That probably wouldn't be too well received. Perhaps I could call her Van? No, that'd just be ironic. How about Dy- oh crap, Kenwall's been talking this whole time. OK, what's he saying?

"That's why I don't share the same speech patterns as the rest of my brothers and sisters in arms."

Yeah, figures I tune in right after he actually answers my question... wait, he's looking at me. Oh crap, does he expect me to follow up on what he said? Oh... uh...

"Huh, so you're the only one?"

"With my accent? Aye, I suppose. If you're asking about general accents, Rodie does contain a pretty noticeable one."

... Do I know that name? He said it really casually, maybe it's a friend of his.

"Who's Rodie?"

I never realized how bushy Kenwall's eyebrows were until I saw them furrow as he looked at me in confusion. Sparrow explored the variety of emotions that only she could feel... so in other words, she just continued to glare at me. Thankfully, a timely interruption occurred at that very moment.

"WHO GOES THERE?" The trees shouted in a boisterous tone.

Immediately Sparrow had her javelin in hand, and Kenwall grabbed a bow. I went for a weapon of my own, but the tip of the javelin pointed towards me as I moved, so it looks like I'm without a weapon.

"Who are you?" Kenwall called back.

"I ASKED YOU FIRST, YOU GREAT BIG FURBAGS!"

Alright, more English accents, at least less Dyke-ish.

"I am Kenwall Waship Juvial, Colonel of the Long Patrol!"

"AH, A HARE."

How observant these English trees seem to be.

"I am Sparrow of the Long Patrol!" Sparrow called out, her javelin back to pointing towards an extended branch. I'm beginning to think this scenario is a bit silly.

"YOU ARE A RABBIT, NOT A SPARROW!" The voice stated with annoyance. "I DO NOT ABIDE LIARS! WHAT OF THE THIRD ONE?"

Oh goody, now it's my turn to converse with the vegetation. "I'm unimportant!" I called out. In hindsight, this answer might not have been my best idea, but I was getting a tad bit annoyed.

"WE'LL BE THE JUDGES OF THAT!"

Leave it to the British to be judgmental.

Wait, if I'm making a stereotype about someone else, does that mean I'm judgmental? Oh great, not only am I a talking cat being held hostage by rabbits talking to trees, but now I'm a racist hypocrite, too!

...

God I need to get back home.

My attention was brought back to my surroundings as I saw a few odd shapes scamper down from the trees.

"Good day hares. Allow me to introduce ourselves. We're what's left of the Jugalong tribe, and my name is Willow."

It was a squirrel that said this. A squirrel with war paint on its face and a bow draped across its back. I'm sure that one might think after all the shenanigans I've gone through in just this past little while, I'd quit getting awed by the increasing ridiculousness of my situation... but one would overestimate my ability to adapt and cope with bullshit.

"K great, bye." I packed up a few of our supplies and made to leave, but a familiar pointy object pricked my back.

"Show some manners cat!"

... Screw it.

"Rabbit, you can either take that stupid stick from my back, or you can get ready to eat it."

"Was that a threat, cat?"

"Wanna find out?"

"Hey, now, let's all of us just calm down." Kenwall tried pulling Sparrow back, but she brushed him off. Meanwhile, the suspiciously Chinese sounding named tribe was circling me, bow in one hand, arrow in the other. In any other circumstance I'd be nervous, but I'm taking part in a Disney short mixed in with Camelot, so no, nervous isn't really a mood that can be had right about now.

"So, Willow, am I to assume your friends' names are Oak and Birch?"

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" She asked.

"Depends, are you actually intelligent enough to grasp humor?"

"Aye, though it seems you're not smart enough to use it."

"Touché." Alright, so she seems like a winner. "Welp, it's been fun guys, but I've had about enough of this."

Sparrow snarled. "What do you plan o-"

I decked her so hard I was sure I broke a bone in my fist, but God did I feel great at that moment. I mean, yeah, the resulting blow to the back of my head reminded me that the retaliation was probably going to be horrible, but... uh...

...

It's occurred to me that I may have made a mistake.

A/N: All that waiting and this is the meager amount I deliver. Aint I a peach?

I intended for this chapter to be huge, including an ambush from some random vermin, separating the characters up, exploring these new characters I just made, yada yada, etc. However, if you haven't noticed, I like to abandon a lot of my projects. And so, this chapter sat about a third the way finished for a looooooooong while. So, I decided to give a quick wrap up, and then we'll see if this story ever gets another chapter.

So, in other words, indefinite hiatus. Yippee. (Apologies.)

Also, as some of you can probably tell, this chapter was not spell checked, nor grammar checked. I'm going to be putting that effort into term papers and scholarships.

Wow this is a long and rambly good-bye.