A/N- Hi everyone, back with another chapter! Before you all get into reading, I have some things to say. So, in chapter twenty, I forgot to write about Chris's jacket, but he does have it on after his duel with Jenner, so I thought I'd clear that up, and I apologize if I may have confused anyone. Also, I may likely not be updating this fanfic for a while. I have family coming into town, so I will probably have a lot on my plate once they arrive. Plus, my birthday is coming up in about two weeks. This one is a pretty significant milestone for me, and my family wanted to do something big for it, so yeah, it'll definitely be something XD

Thank you to everyone who understands. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I will see you soon!

Reviews:

jarmet: I'm getting there, my friend. I am just taking my time writing this fanfic ^^

STG96: Lol, I couldn't resist and just had to write that in. And yeah, even though Chris is concerned for Mrs. Brisby's safety, he does understand all the same where she's coming from for sure ^w^

Fan Boy 101: Thank you, and yeah, that was precisely what I was going for when Chris answered Isabella's question, and I'm glad that what I wrote out was to your liking! And very true, my friend, and you'll definitely just have to wait and see ;)

ric castle: Haha, if only, and you may or may not be right about that!

godzillafan1: Thank you, and I definitely plan to! I'm determined to finish this fanfic at least sometime this year :D

Chapter 21

And the Story Continues

The meeting had finally concluded, and the plan was now established. Mrs. Brisby would drug Dragon, with Chris and Justin coming with her, but only to witness her doing it—even if it might stress Chris out—while Arthur and the rest of the rats prepared to move the Brisby home with the necessary equipment. Every move made would be a gamble when nighttime surfaced, and they would either succeed with flying colors or fail miserably. All they could do was go with what they had.

Justin went with Mr. Ages to get the powder ready while Arthur marched on to prepare a group of rats to help him gather what supplies they would need for tonight: shovels, crowbars, block and tackle, rollers, etc. In the meantime, Chris and Mrs. Brisby followed Nicodemus back to his living quarters so he could finish telling his story to them, and Chris was secretly all too eager to return to it. He recalled Justin mentioning a 'Toy Tinker,' so he was definitely agog in where that would go.

Once more, Chris and Mrs. Brisby stood before the Spinner, a wild breeze sweeping through the room, cutting through their garments and whipping at their hair and fur as neon green highlighted parts of their bodies and blotted the middle of the device, electricity worming through it. All the while, Nicodemus continued where he had left off with the story, keeping his tone even. "We left the Boniface Estate on the first of May. We knew a lot more than when we let ourselves in. We had been there eight months."

"Justin spoke of a Toy Tinker," Chris began. "Is it someone you and the others met?"

"Not met. Found. Despite that, we had yet to do so as it took place in late summer."

Some imagery began to take shape in the device, and it returned to its job of presenting the story as Nicodemus's words carried out through the chamber.

"When we departed, we began searching for a place to live permanently, or at least where we could stay as long as we wanted. We had a pretty clear idea of what we were looking for as we had discussed it on multiple occasions."

All the rats, along with their mice companions, packed what items they would need for the trip—mostly food—but did not take anything valuable or that would alert the homeowners that someone had taken advantage of living here and likely stole something, not that the group was going to anyway. Before they all left, they saw to it making the mansion spick and span, returning the items to their rightful place, and making sure everything was the way it was before they made their leave. It did take a while, but they made time work, not leaving even a crumb of food in sight. They were used to cleaning by now, so it was nothing new to them.

On the early morning of May first, the party blew this popsicle stand, and their traveling began once more. While it was a pity they couldn't stay, they knew that this was bound to happen sooner or later, and nothing could be done about it. It had been nice for them while it lasted, though, including all the hours of reading, and they all felt wiser and more mature than they had been since their experience at NIMH. And now, it was time for them to take on the world yet again as they searched for a new place to stay.

"After eight months in the Boniface Estate, we were not sorry to move out. It had given us shelter, free food, and an education, but we were never really comfortable there. Everything in it was designed for animals who looked, moved, and thought differently from the way we did. Also, it was above ground, which never felt natural to us.

"So, when we left, we decided that our new home should be underground, preferably a cave. But where? We thought hard and studied map landscapes. Finally, we reached some conclusions. To find a cave, we would have to go where there were mountains—there aren't many caves in flatlands. And for food, it would have to be near a town or, better, a farm."

The batch of rats and two mice were progressing in their travels, taking breaks and resting as much as possible, reverting to their old routine after breaking out of NIMH. As the days wore on, they often spoke of a new potential home and how great it would be to finally settle down for good without having to move constantly in fear of the humans and what they could all agree was that they wanted their home sweet home to be peaceful and quiet; something roomy and safe. A cave ought to do the trick for sure.

All that was left to do was unearth the perfect one for their future, their children's future, and their children's children's future, and so forth. It was worth foraging for, parlous or not.

Soon, on a very sunny morning, they found themselves in a vast wilderness preserve with a copse of trees, sunlight winking through them as birds flitted among them and warbled their songs. Ground animals scampered and wound through the tree trunks on occasion, the wind whistling softly, with streams burbling over rocks, forbye rolling hills, towering mountains stabbing the sky, and flowers—dandelions, sunflowers, lobelias, and so many other wildflowers—dotting the luscious green grass, full of life, grace, and beauty. A place like this was a breath of life, a little touch of heavenly light.

It did not take long for everyone to comprehend where they were when they came upon a sign that said: Thorn Mountains National Forest. Under that and a line in a smaller font, it said: Protected Wilderness Preserve.

"It took us two months of steady traveling and before we knew it, we found ourselves in a place called Thorn Mountains National Forest—we're under the edge of it now. There were plenty of caves, most of them never visited by people as nature preserves are restricted from being driven and flown into. We looked at many of the caves, some big, some small, some dry, but mostly damp. Before we chose this cave and this farm, however, we found the Toy Tinker and his very ancient truck."

The group trodded to different caves, inspecting each one, testing them out, and making the pros and cons for them before moving on to a different one. So far, though, none of them were standing out to them. Was it too much to ask to find the best-fitting cave for everyone and their standards? Perhaps, but it wasn't like they were asking for anything fancy. All they wanted was a humble home.

After a couple of days flew by, though, they noticed something peeking out in the distance. At first, it was hard to make out, but after getting a better look, they discerned it to be an atavistic truck concealed somewhat within some shrubbery. It had a nice red and gold paint job and was so polished you could practically see your reflection in it… However, that wasn't the only thing that appeared in the rodents' peripheral visions. About a foot or so away, there lay an elderly man in a prone position on the ground. His hair was hoary, he had a weathered face, and his complexion was bluish-purple. No breath had escaped him, nor was he moving.

The man was demised.

"It began as a sad sort of thing. We found an older man lying in the woods one morning near some tire tracks not so far from here, and he was dead. We don't know what he died of—we guessed it might have been a heart attack. The poor man did not deserve to die this way, especially not alone. Even when death came to claim him, he at least deserved a burial. So, we did just that for him. Not by digging a grave but by covering him with a high mound of leaves, stones, twigs, and earth. While we wished we could've made his burial more proper, it was all we could do for him at that moment."

After burying the deceased man, the party went to check out the truck. It was quite a nice truck indeed, as it also had tiny windows draped by pearl-white curtains, and sandwiched between them in gold letters were these exact words:

THE TOY TINKER

Toys
Repairs
Hobby Kits
Model Sets
Electrical Toys
All Work Guaranteed

"It was no surprise to anyone that the truck had belonged to the old man. He was a peddler and mender of toys, and the red and gold wagon was his shop and home. He had driven into the woods to camp for the night, even when he likely knew it was against the law. We could see where he had made a campfire, carefully surrounding it with stones and clearing away the brush so he would not set the woods afire."

A few minutes later, a few of the rats pinpointed one of the wheels was wedged in the ground, and near it was a shovel. It did not take them long to deduce what might've happened to the older man.

"We saw what had probably caused the old man's death: one wheel of the truck had sunk into the soft earth and was stuck. Judging by the shovel near it, he had been trying to dig it out. The work had been too much for his body, and he had started to go for help when he collapsed. That much we could gather just by looking."

A way in was finally found in the truck, and no one wasted any time squeezing inside. Before them was quite something to behold. It was pretty spacious, and while it wasn't as massive and fancy as the estate they had lived in for eight months, it was still big enough to accommodate a mischief of rats and a couple of mice. In a small-sized space, one could see that this had been the old man's bedroom/workstation, with his cot, desk, folding chair, some essentials, etc. As for the rest of the space, the group's eyes rested on something their brains slowly began registering from their free reading time: toys. So many of them ranged from toy trains to yo-yos, dolls, and so on. A kid would've squealed in delight at all the possible toys to play with like they could've been in toy heaven.

"With the old man no longer having a beating heart, the truck now belonged to his heirs. Though we didn't know who he was, and even if we did, we had no way of notifying anyone. So, we supposed that the truck now belonged to us. It might almost be more accessible to tell what wasn't in it. That truck was as roomy as a small bus, and the old man hadn't wasted a square foot of it, not that it was cluttered. On the contrary, everything was neatly placed on its shelf, hook, or cabinet.

"It took us a while to understand what a treasure we had perceived. As you might expect, the truck contained a big stock of toys. It also contained a little space for his workspace and living quarters. There was a tiny refrigerator with food and some canned stuff."

Almost immediately, the rats and the couple of mice began sizing up the toys and trying to figure out how they worked. They were filled with awe as they went down the rabbit hole of toy testing; these toys were a work of art. Anyone could tell that so much effort and heart were put into them.

"Most of the toys—we thought at first—we had no particular use for. There were toy automobiles and trucks, windmills, merry-go-rounds, airplanes, boats, and many others, mostly running on batteries. It was entertaining to look at them; we even tried some of them. For a while, the floor looked like Christmas morning.

"Eventually, we grew tired of that and explored farther into the truck. Near the front, we found several large cardboard boxes, and when we opened them, we found that they were full of electric motors of assorted sizes—replacement engines for broken or worn-out toys. There were dozens of them, ranging from very small, no bigger than a spool of thread, to some so heavy we could hardly move them."

Curiosity taking over, they ventured deeper into the depths of the truck to uncover what else was out of view, waiting to be discovered, like archeologists. There were electric motor cars, ranging in all sorts of sizes. How peculiar. Naturally, they experimented with them, and it was quite a wonder how humans could come up with something like this. The human mind was but a mystery.

Then, someone received everyone's attention when they pointed out a large steel cabinet. They noted that it was locked when attempting to open it, and they made it their mission to find what secrets lie inside it. Maybe the old man had a skeleton in there. Who knew? There was only one way to find out.

The key needed to be found.

The party fanned out, fossicking through the old man's cabinets, drawers, and basically anywhere that might have a key, but they eventually uncovered it and fished it out from a faux book box, which they never would've guessed at all. With that, they inserted the key into the lock, turning it clockwise, and the steel cabinet granted them access. Swinging the doors open on squeaky hinges, they peeked inside, and their find greeted them. Thankfully, it wasn't a corpse—though the rodents already knew that the old man was innocent—but something else that had excitement gushing through their veins. There was an assortment of tools, and the best part was that they were the right size for a small animal to hold, like rats and mice.

"Then, we found the real treasure: the old man's tools. They were neatly arranged in shining rows inside a steel cabinet as big as a trunk. There were screwdrivers, saws, hammers, clamps, vises, wrenches, pliers, and many other tools you could think of. The beauty of it was that since they were designed for working on toys, they were nearly all miniature, easily small enough for us to handle. Yet they were not toys; they were made of the finest tempered steel, like the tools of a watchmaker or a dentist."

The jackpot was hit—almost too good to be true. The rats and two mice poured their eyes over the tools, trying them out without being reckless enough that would result in someone getting injured. These would definitely help them out immensely.

"With these tools and all the motors, there were many possibilities of what we could do with them, but that was when we hit a wall. We had no electricity.

Everyone flicked their gaze to one another, some scratching their heads in puzzlement. Where could they draw out some electricity? The old man obviously couldn't have run these tools off batteries, albeit he could with the small motors, but not the actual ones and actual tools. If there was any indication, though, the leading source that the old man seemed to have relied on to bleed electricity into his apparatuses was electric outlets when all eyes noticed some black cable arrayed on a hook.

At that moment, a new quest began for the rats and mice from NIMH: locating a receptacle outlet.

"We split into squads, taking different routes in the nature preserve to try and find a little town or farm, while a few others decided to stay behind in the old man's truck. I was among one of the squads with Jonathan, Justin, and three other rats, never throwing caution to the wind."

The Spinner materialized Nicodemus, Justin, and Jonathan, along with their three other companions, trekking through the woods, trying to stick together as much as possible and ready to evade at any moment from danger if it came down to it. They sometimes passed whispers to one another but, for the most part, kept as silent as much as possible for their safety.

"However, as we picked our way through the wilderness preserve, we failed to notice some camouflaged trapping snares that were not meant for us; thus, a rat in our squad named Beatrice fell prey to one of them."

A screech ripped out of someone's throat, and the others stopped dead in their tracks, their heartbeats halting. They slowly turned toward the source of the voice, only for their jaws to drop when they saw their companion, Beatrice, bound by a trap snare, dangling from a tree limb. Panic touched Beatrice's eyes, swinging back and forth like a pendulum, making her vulnerable and exposed to prey.

"We were about to attempt to rescue her when we heard footsteps approaching, growing ever closer."

There was a snap of a tree branch that drifted to the squad's ears. The person doing illegal hunting was now here, coming to claim his prize. The adrenaline kicked in, and the five remaining who hadn't wound up in a snare quickly went into hiding. They didn't want their comrade to get taken away, though, and they tried to devise a strategy to save Beatrice. But how could they do it? Maybe they could ambush the human? But that was more foolish and risky than when they freed themselves from NIMH. Be that as it may, the closer the person got, the less time they had…

And the less time Beatrice had to live another day.

A human shadow slanted across the ground, and the others held their breaths, hoping not to get caught like Beatrice. Valiantly, they peeked their heads out a little from their hiding spot, but what they witnessed was not what they were expecting. Instead of a person clad in some hunting gear that would blend in with the environment and gripping a rifle, they saw that he was wearing some average clothes: a shirt with the logo of a college swim team, some jeans, and a pair of white sneakers. He had a bag strapped to his back with a nice-looking Kodac camera in hand, and everyone soon could make him out more with each step he took. He seemed young-looking, with brown hair, green eyes, and a bit of a tan.

This was definitely no hunter.

Chris's breath caught in his throat. Was that…

"Chris, that's you," Mrs. Brisby said in awe.

There was no denying it; it was him, striding through the woods. All at once, a memory came rushing through his mind's eye, a memory almost long forgotten had the Spinner not presented it. A few years ago, Chris came to visit his family over the weekend before he had to return to college. Around that time, the college he attended hosted a photography competition, which came with a decent prize for the winner. Of course, Chris jumped at that opportunity and wanted to capture photos that would bring out the feels. What better way to obtain that than in the wildlife?

Chris recalled when he wanted to venture deep into it, to get to the heart of it all, and the nature preserve seemed to be the best place to do so, even when he knew that he could get into some trouble. While it had been foolish—he didn't plan on blighting anything, and thankfully, he didn't—it was worth it to him as he got what he came for. Those photos almost placed him first but ended up second. Though that was, Chris still got a prize that was still good.

How could he have forgotten this part while in the nature preserve? The part where he saw a female rat trapped? And oddly enough, she looked exactly like–

"Yes, that it is, Mrs. Brisby," Nicodemus confirmed. "This day is one I will never forget."

Chris had heard what sounded like an animal in distress, and that was precisely what it was when he came across a rat snared in a trap that was not supposed to be here in the nature preserve—those blasted hunters. While he really wasn't a fan of rats, how could he leave the she rat like this? The young man couldn't let the poor thing succumb to something the hunters would have planned for her, which was likely death. Chris didn't know how much time he had, but he wasn't going to wait and find out and had to make haste with emancipating the rat.

He set down his camera and ate up the distance between himself and the snared rat. The rat squealed in fear, trying to swing away and squirm out of her trap, but to no avail. Chris didn't take long to reach her as he whipped out his pocket knife, unfurled the blade part, and gingerly grabbed hold of her. In a fluid motion, he cut the snare holding the rat against her will. Then, he kneeled, gravitating his hands toward the ground to set the she rat free, and she scurried off into hiding.

Chris couldn't help the small smile that crept across his mouth. He felt good about himself, and now the rat was no longer in danger. He may never see the rodent again, but he at least did a good deed.

As he pushed to his feet, Chris noticed that more traps were lying around, and a crease formed between his brow. This would not do. A newfound determination overcame him, and one by one, he tampered with each of the traps. The nature preserve didn't need this, nor did the wildlife. Unbeknownst to him, he was being watched.

"To say that we saw this coming was an understatement. We never imagined a human would've saved Beatrice, but you did, Mr. Fitzgibbons. It's rare to see humans act with such kindness for such things, let alone to a rat. If you hadn't saved her, she would not be here to this day with her family, and she is forever grateful for what you did. You and Mrs. Brisby have met her daughter a couple of times now: Isabella."

The squad was agape as they scrutinized Chris from the shrubbery. Did that actually just happen? It indeed did, with Beatrice still in the flesh. After checking on her to ensure she was okay, they continued observing Chris without him knowing. This human didn't seem to be like a lot of others, and his actions proved that.

Chris swiped away the sweat sheening his brow. His work was done. He double-checked, but once he was sure he had gotten all the traps, he stuffed his pocket knife back in his pocket, scooped up his camera, and decided to call it a day. He felt like he had plenty of pictures to work with anyway, so he ambled back to the farm. Once he got back, he was definitely calling a wilderness ranger to give them an anonymous tip about some hunters who may still be lurking in the nature preserve.

"It perhaps would've been a good idea for us to backtrack and return to the old man's truck much earlier, but after what you did, we did the opposite of that and followed you, and you were never the wiser. We just felt safer around you, like you were our guardian angel. Silly as it may sound, we just had a good feeling about you."

Some time had passed, and the rats continued to tread on Chris's heels. That was when they saw it: a farm. Now, how lucky were they?! Their day just kept on getting better and better! When Chris's frame disappeared into the farmhouse, the squad began feasting their eyes on the farm before them, admiring it to such an extent.

Then, their gazes fell on a particular rosebush, and they glanced at one another with such hope filling their faces. This was it—just what they'd been looking for. What made things even better for them was that there was a cave not too far from here. Things were looking up for them once again.

"This was the beginning for us when we followed you back to the farm, and we soon began to build our civilization right under your and your family's noses."