Mother Loose
Irene Callaci
built-in hints cat character graphics child protagonist compass status display cover art fairytale family gender-neutral protagonist IF Competition 1998 IFComp Game multiple solutions recommended for children walkthrough Xyzzy Awards 1998
It's been one of those days. It started out bad and just got worse: You're seven years old and in trouble a lot. You try to be good and to do as you ought, but nothing, it seems, goes exactly as planned. For instance, today things got quite out of hand: you poured your own milk, but it spilled on the floor; the cat wanted out just as you slammed the door; you didn't remember to turn off the faucet; your brother, poor thing, is still locked in the closet. But that wasn't all. No, indeed. Did I mention that things got much worse? They did. Pay attention: you're lost and alone and nothing's familiar. You wander around for a while until you're ready to panic. Then, out of the blue, an egg on a fence asks for help--and from you!
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What was that?

You freeze, all your senses on alert. Not mineral. Not vegetable, either. That means...animal? Your eyes scan the countryside, swiveling like searchlights, and pause briefly on a grove of trees to the north.

"No, not there! Up here!" guides a voice edged with impatience. As you whirl around, peering up, you squint and shield your eyes against the sun's glare. Waving at you from the top of a rickety wooden fence is a well-groomed egg, who confesses, "I could use a bit of help, if you don't mind."

After a long and rather awkward silence, the egg mutters, "It's very rude to stare, you know. When I was your age, children were taught to respect their elders, not gawk at them as if they were animals in a zoo." The egg crosses his legs, folds his arms and pretends to ignore you.

[Press a key to begin.]
You press any the key
The ramshackle wooden fence in front of you seems to lurch from one horizon to the other. Although it hasn't fallen over yet, it threatens to at any moment, and if that egg isn't careful...

The footpath running along the fence veers sharply north.

The egg hums a little tune your mother used to sing at bedtime.
You look at myself
You're seven years old and in trouble a lot. You try to be good and to do as you ought, but nothing, it seems, goes exactly as planned. For instance, today things got quite out of hand: you poured your own milk, but it spilled on the floor; the cat wanted out just as you slammed the door; you didn't remember to turn off the faucet; your brother, poor thing, is still locked in the closet.

But that wasn't all. No, indeed. Did I mention that things got much worse? They did. Pay attention: you're lost and alone and nothing's familiar. You wander around for a while until you're ready to panic. Then, out of the blue, an egg on a fence asks for help--and from you!
You examine the egg
Although somewhat short and rotund, the egg takes obvious pride in his appearance, wearing neatly pressed dark slacks and a white, button-down shirt with the initials H.D. embroidered on the collar. His necktie is conservative, his shoes polished, his handkerchief clean and folded.

The egg wobbles ever so slightly on the narrow ledge of the fence.
You climb the fence
The fence is much too high and unsteady for you to climb. How on earth did that egg get up there?
You ask the egg about the egg
"Not a lot to tell, really," demurs the egg.
You ask the egg about yourself
The egg looks shocked. "How could I possibly know anything at all about you? We've never been properly introduced!"
You go east
You trudge along, trees to your left, fence to your right. After a little while, you sit down to rest. The fence and the road look the same here; nothing has changed, except that now you're completely alone on a road to nowhere. Discouraged, you stand up and trudge all the way back to the egg.
You ask the egg about the fence
With an embarrassed laugh, the egg admits, "Unfortunately, I've gotten myself into a spot of trouble. I am unable to descend from this fence without risking major injury."
Xyzzy
A hollow voice says, "Fooled you!"
You jump
You jump on the spot, fruitlessly.
You go west
You trudge along, trees to your right, fence to your left. After a little while, you sit down to rest. The fence and the road look the same here; nothing has changed, except that now you're completely alone on a road to nowhere. Discouraged, you stand up and trudge all the way back to the egg.
You look at your surroundings
The ramshackle wooden fence in front of you seems to lurch from one horizon to the other. Although it hasn't fallen over yet, it threatens to at any moment, and if that egg isn't careful...

The footpath running along the fence veers sharply north.

The egg removes a handkerchief from his pocket and polishes a pair of spectacles.
You go north
Bravely, the egg calls after you: "My life is in your hands! I trust you will return shortly to rescue me!"

The sun has disappeared. Only a narrow north-south passage winds through the forest here; trees and gnarled undergrowth barricade all other exits. Chill air seeps up from the ground and coils around your body, reaching down your neck with insistent, clammy fingers.
You go north
Wet branches slap your face, their icy needles stinging. Dense underbrush creeps in from all sides. With each step, mud oozes into your shoes. Insects drop from above and crawl through your hair; knuckles scrape against rough bark. The path hooks from south to southwest here, slithering between the trees like a snake. Faint rustling sounds catch your ear, but when you turn to look, all is still and quiet.

At your feet, a green and yellow basket lies on its side. Whoever dropped it must have been in a hurry, because the contents have spilled out and are strewn everywhere.

An iron pot has come to rest at the edge of the footpath, near a tree.

You can also see a cracked porcelain dish and a bent spoon here.
You look at the pot
The pot is deep and flat-bottomed, with a curved handle that crosses from one side to the other for easy carrying. Although the iron pot has started to rust, you can see where something has dribbled out from under the lid and run down the sides.

The whispery rustling grows louder.
You take the pot
Taken.

You glance around nervously. The rustling seems very close now.
You listen
You hear whispery, rustling sounds coming from behind the trees.

The rustling sounds stop.
You take all
picnic basket: Taken.
cracked porcelain dish: Taken.
bent spoon: Taken.

Suddenly, from the corner of your eye, you glimpse a streak of moth-eaten fur hurtling toward you from the forest! Your heart races, yet you stand paralyzed with fear; your mind screams at your unresponsive body to flee. Run! Run for your life!

Too late. Alas, too late.

"Boo!" snarls a big, bad wolf, who is huffing and puffing from all the exertion. His eyes narrow into slits as he studies you closely. "Hey, wait just a minute! You ain't Little Red Riding Hood."

The wolf leans casually on one elbow and watches you, chewing on his toothpick.
You ask the wolf about the toothpick
The wolf snarls at you and chews on a toothpick.

The wolf yawns widely enough for you to count all his teeth.
You count the teeth
"Huh?" The wolf raises an eyebrow.
You ask the wolf about the little red riding hood
"Nice kid, yeah? Too bad about her grandma."
Kiss wolf
"The shy and retiring type, I see," leers the wolf, shifting the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.

The wolf yawns widely enough for you to count all his teeth.
You ask the wolf about the grandma
"Watch it," growls the wolf, "or you'll be talking to my lawyer."
You ask wolf about the wolf
The wolf snarls at you and chews on a toothpick.

The wolf leans casually on one elbow and watches you, chewing on his toothpick.
You kick wolf
"Oh, yeah?" sneers the wolf. "You and who else?"
You ask the wolf about yourself
The wolf grins widely. "Sure thing. Just step over here where I can get a better look at you," he coaxes. "Come on, don't be shy."

"Listen up," warns the wolf. "In case you forgot, I get blamed for everything around here. So watch it. I ain't takin' no rap for you."
You ask the wolf about egg
"An egg? On a fence? Okay, okay, I'll bite." The wolf howls with laughter. "Get it? I'll bite! Oh, man, that's a good one!"

The wolf loiters in the area, keeping an eye on you.
You ride wolf
"Huh?" The wolf raises an eyebrow.
You eat the wolf
"You got it bass ackwards, baby," growls the wolf.

The wolf loiters in the area, keeping an eye on you.
You eat you
"A smart aleck, huh?" The wolf eyes you curiously. "Better watch what you ask for, kiddo. You might get it."

The wolf yawns widely enough for you to count all his teeth.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
a bent spoon
a cracked porcelain dish
a picnic basket (which is open but empty)
a pot (which is closed)
You look at the basket
Woven from green and yellow straw, the picnic basket has seen better days. One corner is dented, and the straw is ripped where a handle was once attached. The picnic basket is empty.
You open the pot
Using the spoon's handle, you break the seal between pot and lid. Ever so cautiously, you lift the lid and peek into the pot but just then the wolf lets out a blood-curdling howl, and you jerk your arm back abruptly. The lid flies out of your grasp and rolls out of sight.

Fortunately, you still have the pot. In it, you see some pease porridge.

The wolf grins at you as he twirls the toothpick in his mouth.
You examine the spoon
The spoon is slightly bent, as if it has been stepped on.

The wolf grins at you as he twirls the toothpick in his mouth.
You eat the porridge
Ecchhh! Nasty stuff. You decide to get rid of it before someone gets sick. You look around for an inconspicuous spot, and hastily dump the pease porridge. It soaks into the ground, but a shiny golden hairpin remains!
You go to the southwest
The footpath snaking down from the northeastern forest has widened here into a country lane. Gravel crunches beneath your feet and a warm breeze riffles your hair as you walk in the sun. Some distance to the west, a few small cottages flock together like children telling secrets. Smoke curls from the chimney of the cottage nearest to you. Beyond the village, further west, a clock tower rises above the surrounding roofs.
Go west
Blooming with color and fragrance, a tidy garden snuggles against the stone cottage to the south. Ivy frames the whitewashed front door; starched white curtains hang in a diamond-paned window. A faint path forks southeast and southwest around the cottage, toward the back. To the north, across the lane that runs through the village, a few small cottages line the road. The clock tower looms further west, silhouetted against the sky.

Gradually, the steady, monotonous hum of machinery drifts into your consciousness.
You open the door
It seems to be locked.
You kick the door
Violence isn't the answer to this one.

The wolf sneaks up behind you.
You unlock the door with the hairpin
Glancing furtively over your shoulder, you slip the hairpin into the doorknob and jiggle it in the lock. Nothing happens. You twist and poke and jab and prod, until finally something clicks into place. Aha! You remove the hairpin, turn the knob ever so gently, and ease the cottage door open.

You're quite pleased with yourself, aren't you? Your mother, on the other hand, would be ashamed of you.

"I'll be right back," confides the wolf.
You knock on the door
You knock loudly on the cottage door, but no one answers.

The wolf sneaks up behind you.
You knock knock
"You may not know this, but knock knock jokes are my specialty." The wolf takes the toothpick out of his mouth and points it at you. "Watch. I'll demonstrate."

"Knock knock."
Who's there
"Who's there?"
Who's there
"Venice."
Venice who
"Venice who?"
Venice who
"Venice somebody going to open the door?"
You attack the wolf with the toothpick
"Whoa, baby!" The wolf slaps his thigh and guffaws. "Now, that's what I call funny!"

"I'm blowin' this joint," the wolf explains as he shoves his way past you. "I got places to go, people to see, things to do."
You unlock the door with the hairpin
(You don't need the golden hairpin when the door is open.)
The cottage door is already unlocked.
Go inside
From the scrubbed oak floorboards to the comfy, upholstered furniture gathered around the hearth, this feels like home.

A wooden spinning wheel in the corner revolves madly, its treadle pumping like a runner's chest after a long race. A skein of black yarn is wound around the bobbin; one loose end of the yarn flaps rhythmically with each rotation of the wheel.

You can also see a big, giant bag (in which is some soft wool), a medium-sized bag (in which is some glossy wool) and a wee, little bag (in which is some curly wool) here.
You look at the wheel
What's this? You find a sliding panel and a toggle switch on the underside of the spinning wheel's frame.
You turn off the wheel
You flip the toggle switch to the OFF position, and the spinning wheel slows to a stop.

The wolf is back again, hanging around.

The wolf leans casually on one elbow and watches you, chewing on his toothpick.
You examine the panel
The panel is made from the same wood as the spinning wheel and is flush with the frame. It's closed, and you can barely see the thin, rectangular outline of its shape.
You open the panel
The panel slides open to reveal a battery.
You examine the battery
The battery is black and red and heavy, with two snap fasteners at one end to hold it firmly in place inside the compartment.

The wolf loiters in the area, keeping an eye on you.
You knock
"Can't get enough of 'em, eh?" winks the wolf. "OK, here's one you may have heard before, but I still like it."

"Knock knock."
Who's there
"Wendy."
Look around
"Get it?" snickers the wolf, poking you in the side with an elbow.
No
"Huh?" The wolf raises an eyebrow.
No
"Huh?" The wolf raises an eyebrow.

The wolf loiters in the area, keeping an eye on you.
You take the battery
Carefully, you lift the battery from its compartment.
Look around
From the scrubbed oak floorboards to the comfy, upholstered furniture gathered around the hearth, this feels like home.

A wooden spinning wheel sits quietly nearby. Its bobbin holds some black yarn.

You can also see a wolf, a big, giant bag (in which is some soft wool), a medium-sized bag (in which is some glossy wool) and a wee, little bag (in which is some curly wool) here.

The wolf leaves after a quick reconnaissance.
You take all
spinning wheel: The spinning wheel is too heavy and awkward to carry, but you might be able to push it somewhere.
big, giant bag: You're already in trouble; one more misdeed won't make any difference. You pick up the big, giant bag and sling it over your shoulder.
medium-sized bag: Your mother won't be happy about this. When the time comes--and it WILL come, you're certain--you'll just have to talk fast and hope for the best.
wee, little bag: You can't juggle three bags full and everything else, too.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
a medium-sized bag (which is open)
some glossy wool
a big, giant bag (which is open)
some soft wool
a battery
a golden hairpin
a bent spoon
a cracked porcelain dish
a picnic basket (which is open but empty)
a pot (which is open but empty)
You look at your surroundings
From the scrubbed oak floorboards to the comfy, upholstered furniture gathered around the hearth, this feels like home.

A wooden spinning wheel sits quietly nearby. Its bobbin holds some black yarn.

You can also see a big, giant bag (in which is some soft wool), a medium-sized bag (in which is some glossy wool) and a wee, little bag (in which is some curly wool) here.
You look around
Blooming with color and fragrance, a tidy garden snuggles against the stone cottage to the south. Ivy frames the whitewashed front door; starched white curtains hang in a diamond-paned window. A faint path forks southeast and southwest around the cottage, toward the back. To the north, across the lane that runs through the village, a few small cottages line the road. The clock tower looms further west, silhouetted against the sky.
You go to the west
A cheery pink bungalow with gingerbread trim and a yellow painted door nestles behind the picket fence to the south. Grass covers the yard from corner to corner, except at the edges, where flowers dance with the fence. Circling the bungalow to the southeast and southwest, a faint path leads around the back. To the north, a few small homes peer across the lane, which has narrowed, but still runs east to west at this end of the village. The clock tower dominates the skyline to the west.

A white rectangle in the middle of the bright yellow door catches your eye.
You look at the rectangle
The placard is hand lettered on sturdy white posterboard. It reads:

All others, please knock knock
You knock knock
"Who's there?" a voice inquires from inside the bungalow.
Boo
The door opens a crack. "Boo who?"
You don'T have to cry
Before you can reply, the bungalow door slams open and a voice shouts: "Don't cry; it's just a joke!"

Then a whirlwind--no, it's a little girl--hurtles through the door and almost collides with you. "I just love knock knock jokes, don't you?" she giggles, clapping her hands and pirouetting in place. "I'm Mary. Who are you?"
You ask Mary about Mary
"Nope, sorry; can't help you with that," Mary apologizes.

"That's not yours, is it?" Mary asks, pointing to the hairpin. "It looks just like the one my friend lost last week. Want me to return it?"
Yes
"Thanks," Mary says, taking the hairpin. "My friend will be glad to get this back." She shoves the hairpin into a pocket of her jeans.
You look at Mary
She's barefoot, wearing faded jeans and a red sweatshirt with the initials "NRU" emblazoned across the front. Her short, pigtail braids stick out from her head like two antennae; her face and hair show traces of strawberry jam and toast, recently eaten. Two of her front teeth are missing.
You ask Mary about the nru
Mary looks down at the front of her sweatshirt. "Good ol' Nursery Rhyme U. I graduated with honors."
You ask Mary about the jam
"Nope, sorry; can't help you with that," Mary apologizes.
You ask Mary about the teeth
"One of 'em is loose, see?" Mary demonstrates by wiggling the tooth with her thumb and finger. "I called the Tooth Fairy and told her to get ready. Should be any day now."

A slight movement attracts your attention. It's that wolf again.

The wolf leans casually on one elbow and watches you, chewing on his toothpick.
You ask Mary about the loose
"Mother Loose disappeared a couple of days ago," Mary answers, her attention wandering to the ground at her feet. She stoops, holding her finger near a blade of grass, encouraging a ladybug to crawl onto her hand.

"Heads up!" shouts the wolf in your ear. "Ha, ha, made you look!"
You ask Mary about the wool
"Nope, sorry; can't help you with that," Mary apologizes.

The wolf leans casually on one elbow and watches you, chewing on his toothpick.
You ask the wolf about Mary
"Who?" The wolf sniffs haughtily. "Oh, you mean Miss Smarty Pants? She thinks she knows all the best knock knock jokes, but I got news for her. I been practicing."
You ask Mary about the garden
"My friend designed all the gardens around here; didn't she do a nice job? Her name is Mary too," she explains. "We went to school together, but she majored in horticulture, and I majored in knock knock jokes. Sometimes she can be very contrary. My mom says she has a green thumb, but it looks normal to me."

The wolf grins at you as he twirls the toothpick in his mouth.
Kiss wolf
Mary has better things to do.

The wolf leans casually on one elbow and watches you, chewing on his toothpick.
You look at your surroundings
A cheery pink bungalow with gingerbread trim and a yellow painted door nestles behind the picket fence to the south. Grass covers the yard from corner to corner, except at the edges, where flowers dance with the fence. Circling the bungalow to the southeast and southwest, a faint path leads around the back. To the north, a few small homes peer across the lane, which has narrowed, but still runs east to west at this end of the village. The clock tower dominates the skyline to the west.

Mary is here.

You can also see a wolf here.

"I'm blowin' this joint," the wolf explains as he shoves his way past you. "I got places to go, people to see, things to do."
You go southeast
Mary follows you around the corner of the house.

Grass surrounds you, acres of it, spreading across the countryside as far as you can see. A ribbon of flattened grass curves eastward, and another, not quite as fresh, circles the bungalow, branching northeast and northwest. A grass-covered hill to the southwest shimmers under the sun's heat; waves of green-gold grass ripple toward the crest of the hill, racing the wind to the top.

Mary is here.

A wooden ladder lies half-hidden in the grass next to the bungalow.

A cuddly lamb prances about, seemingly unaware of your presence.
You shut up
Mary has better things to do.
You ask Mary about the ladder
"Sure, go ahead and borrow it. But please return it when you're finished, okay? Leave it in the back, if you don't mind."
You ask Mary about the lamb
"I don't know what's wrong with Bernice these days," a puzzled Mary worries. "She used to follow me everywhere, but lately her attitude has been horrible. I think she's got a crush on that ram down the street, Horace. He's a bad influence."
You ask Mary about Horace
"My mom says Horace has an irresistible aura of danger and violence that's very attractive to women," Mary groans, rolling her eyes. "Bernice has it bad, all right; just look at her: she's hopelessly infatuated. I was hoping Mother Loose could give me some advice, but that's out of the question now."
You get the ladder
The ladder is too heavy and awkward to carry while you're holding anything else.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a battery
a bent spoon
a cracked porcelain dish
a picnic basket (which is open but empty)
a pot (which is open but empty)
You drop all
battery: Dropped.
bent spoon: Dropped.
cracked porcelain dish: Dropped.
picnic basket: Dropped.
pot: Dropped.
You get the ladder
Taken.

The wolf sneaks up behind you.
You get the basket
(first setting aside the ladder)
Taken.
You go to the southwest
"Bye!" Mary waves. "See you later!"

Grass sweeps up the hill like a brushfire, growing taller and thicker as it approaches the top where you brace yourself against the wind. You can see everything from up here: the forest, the village, even the fence where you first met the egg. The schoolhouse and its clock tower lie to the northwest.

A crumbling brick well sits at the very top of the hill, almost hidden in a nest of grass. It's the simplest of designs--no cute roof, no crank, no rope or bucket--just a simple, brick cylinder in the ground. The cover, if it ever had one, is gone. From deep within the well's depths, you hear faint scratching noises interspersed with pathetic mewing.
Go northwest
Both the playground and its adjacent schoolhouse to the south lie vacant and deserted. The bare, hard-packed rectangle of earth, despite a few faint chalk marks, shows no evidence that children may have once played here--or might ever play here again.

The lane ends its westward progress at the schoolhouse door. At the southern end of the school, a magnificent stone steeple towers above the village roofs. To see the clock from where you now stand, you must tilt your head back and point your chin at the sky. To the southeast, a gentle slope leads to a hilltop covered with wild grass.
You look in well
You lean far over the well's edge, peering down into darkness. Suddenly, a shadow at the bottom leaps up and scrabbles frantically at the brick sides, howling wretchedly and sending chills up your spine.
Describe the surroundings
Grass sweeps up the hill like a brushfire, growing taller and thicker as it approaches the top where you brace yourself against the wind. You can see everything from up here: the forest, the village, even the fence where you first met the egg. The schoolhouse and its clock tower lie to the northwest.

A crumbling brick well sits at the very top of the hill, almost hidden in a nest of grass. It's the simplest of designs--no cute roof, no crank, no rope or bucket--just a simple, brick cylinder in the ground. The cover, if it ever had one, is gone. From deep within the well's depths, you hear faint scratching noises interspersed with pathetic mewing.
You examine the fence
You're too far away.
You put the ladder in well
You lower the ladder into the well. It drops a few feet and hits bottom, but you can still reach in and touch it.
Down
You sling one leg over the ledge before you remember several television news reports in which children fell into wells and had to be rescued by the fire department. Maybe it's not such a good idea after all.
You climb the ladder
The only answer is a faint, faraway meow.
You examine the ladder
It's a perfectly normal wooden ladder: two parallel slats connected by twenty or so wooden rungs inserted at regular intervals about nine or ten inches apart. The rungs do seem a little close together, but perhaps that's because this ladder was made especially for short people. After all, who would be more likely to use a ladder?
You take the ladder
Taken.
Go south
You can only go northeast or northwest.

"Hey, what are you doing?" demands the wolf suspiciously.

The wolf yawns widely enough for you to count all his teeth.
You ask the wolf about the kitty
"So?" shrugs the wolf. "You want I should do something about it?"

The wolf leaves after a quick reconnaissance.

You can't see any such thing.
You go northeast
Grass surrounds you, acres of it, spreading across the countryside as far as you can see. A ribbon of flattened grass curves eastward, and another, not quite as fresh, circles the bungalow, branching northeast and northwest. A grass-covered hill to the southwest shimmers under the sun's heat; waves of green-gold grass ripple toward the crest of the hill, racing the wind to the top.

Mary is here.

A cuddly lamb prances about, seemingly unaware of your presence.

You can also see a pot (which is empty), a picnic basket (which is empty), a cracked porcelain dish, a bent spoon and a battery here.
You ask Mary about the kitty
"Poor thing," she sympathizes. "I hope it doesn't get eaten by a troll."
You ask Mary about the troll
"Trolls live under bridges, I think, but we don't have any. Bridges, I mean. If I were a troll, I'd hide in the well and scare people who stick their heads in."
You go northeast
Mary tags along behind you.

A cheery pink bungalow with gingerbread trim and a yellow painted door nestles behind the picket fence to the south. Grass covers the yard from corner to corner, except at the edges, where flowers dance with the fence. Circling the bungalow to the southeast and southwest, a faint path leads around the back. To the north, a few small homes peer across the lane, which has narrowed, but still runs east to west at this end of the village. The clock tower dominates the skyline to the west.

Mary is here.
Go west
"Bye!" Mary waves. "See you later!"

Both the playground and its adjacent schoolhouse to the south lie vacant and deserted. The bare, hard-packed rectangle of earth, despite a few faint chalk marks, shows no evidence that children may have once played here--or might ever play here again.

The lane ends its westward progress at the schoolhouse door. At the southern end of the school, a magnificent stone steeple towers above the village roofs. To see the clock from where you now stand, you must tilt your head back and point your chin at the sky. To the southeast, a gentle slope leads to a hilltop covered with wild grass.
Go east
A cheery pink bungalow with gingerbread trim and a yellow painted door nestles behind the picket fence to the south. Grass covers the yard from corner to corner, except at the edges, where flowers dance with the fence. Circling the bungalow to the southeast and southwest, a faint path leads around the back. To the north, a few small homes peer across the lane, which has narrowed, but still runs east to west at this end of the village. The clock tower dominates the skyline to the west.

Mary is here.
You go to the east
"Bye!" Mary waves. "See you later!"

Blooming with color and fragrance, a tidy garden snuggles against the stone cottage to the south. Ivy frames the whitewashed front door; starched white curtains hang in a diamond-paned window. A faint path forks southeast and southwest around the cottage, toward the back. To the north, across the lane that runs through the village, a few small cottages line the road. The clock tower looms further west, silhouetted against the sky.

The wolf sneaks up behind you.
Go north
You're not supposed to cross the street by yourself. Memories of the last time you tried it and got caught prevent you from attempting it now. You can only go south, east, west, southeast, southwest or in.

"Listen up," warns the wolf. "In case you forgot, I get blamed for everything around here. So watch it. I ain't takin' no rap for you."
Go south
The ladder is too big and awkward to carry through the door.
Go northeast
Wet branches slap your face, their icy needles stinging. Dense underbrush creeps in from all sides. With each step, mud oozes into your shoes. Insects drop from above and crawl through your hair; knuckles scrape against rough bark. The path hooks from south to southwest here, slithering between the trees like a snake. Faint rustling sounds catch your ear, but when you turn to look, all is still and quiet.
Go south
The sun has disappeared. Only a narrow north-south passage winds through the forest here; trees and gnarled undergrowth barricade all other exits. Chill air seeps up from the ground and coils around your body, reaching down your neck with insistent, clammy fingers.
You go south
The ramshackle wooden fence in front of you seems to lurch from one horizon to the other. Although it hasn't fallen over yet, it threatens to at any moment, and if that egg isn't careful...

The footpath running along the fence veers sharply north.

The egg flicks an invisible piece of lint off his shirt.
You put the ladder against the fence
You lean the ladder against the fence and stand back, not quite sure what to do next. However, the egg, surprisingly nimble for such an awkward-looking creature, turns himself around and climbs down rapidly, obviously accustomed to this sort of rescue service. Once down, he grabs your hand and shakes it vigorously. "Thank you, thank you so much," the egg exclaims again and again. "Really, I can't thank you enough."

Finally, his gratitude properly expressed, the egg waddles away, turning to wave goodbye one last time before he disappears completely. "You saved my life!" he shouts. "I won't forget you!"

You notice a familiar-looking wolf lurking in the vicinity.
You go to the west
Blooming with color and fragrance, a tidy garden snuggles against the stone cottage to the south. Ivy frames the whitewashed front door; starched white curtains hang in a diamond-paned window. A faint path forks southeast and southwest around the cottage, toward the back. To the north, across the lane that runs through the village, a few small cottages line the road. The clock tower looms further west, silhouetted against the sky.

"Surprise!" The wolf jumps out in front of you. "Gotcha that time, didn't I?"
You go west
A cheery pink bungalow with gingerbread trim and a yellow painted door nestles behind the picket fence to the south. Grass covers the yard from corner to corner, except at the edges, where flowers dance with the fence. Circling the bungalow to the southeast and southwest, a faint path leads around the back. To the north, a few small homes peer across the lane, which has narrowed, but still runs east to west at this end of the village. The clock tower dominates the skyline to the west.

Mary is here.
Go west
"Bye!" Mary waves. "See you later!"

Both the playground and its adjacent schoolhouse to the south lie vacant and deserted. The bare, hard-packed rectangle of earth, despite a few faint chalk marks, shows no evidence that children may have once played here--or might ever play here again.

The lane ends its westward progress at the schoolhouse door. At the southern end of the school, a magnificent stone steeple towers above the village roofs. To see the clock from where you now stand, you must tilt your head back and point your chin at the sky. To the southeast, a gentle slope leads to a hilltop covered with wild grass.
You examine the door
The schoolhouse door is solid oak. It's open.
Go inside
The abandoned schoolroom lacks not only pupils, but also books and pencils and chalk and paper and any other hint that someone might show up for school tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next. Rows of empty desks and chairs face the teacher's desk at the front of the room as if waiting expectantly for the day's lesson. The door to the north leads back out to the empty schoolyard. Stairs to the south lead up into darkness.
Go upward
Dimly lit stairs lead up toward darkness and down into the schoolroom below. Each step sings a different tune for you: one groans mournfully the instant you put your weight on it; the next squeaks in protest just as you step off. At the top of the stairs, a heavy, solid door stands firmly closed.
You open the door
It seems to be locked.
You look at the door
A thick, heavy door to the south blocks your way. Pale yellow light shines through a narrow crack at the bottom, like butter melting on the dark floor.

Faintly, through the closed door, you hear something ticking.
You look at the keyhole
There's a keyhole in the doorknob.

Faintly, through the closed door, you hear something ticking.
You look in the keyhole
You peer through the keyhole but can't see anything.

Faintly, through the closed door, you hear something ticking.
You listen
Faintly, through the closed door, you hear something ticking.

The wolf is back again, hanging around.

The wolf loiters in the area, keeping an eye on you.
You ask the wolf about the door
The wolf snarls at you and chews on a toothpick.

Faintly, through the closed door, you hear something ticking.

The wolf loiters in the area, keeping an eye on you.
You knock on the door
You hear an answering knock, faster and more urgent than your own.

Faintly, through the closed door, you hear something ticking.

The wolf grins at you as he twirls the toothpick in his mouth.
You keep going
You hear an answering knock, faster and more urgent than your own.

Faintly, through the closed door, you hear something ticking.
You talk to the door
You can only do that to something animate.
You go to the east
"Bye!" Mary waves. "See you later!"

Blooming with color and fragrance, a tidy garden snuggles against the stone cottage to the south. Ivy frames the whitewashed front door; starched white curtains hang in a diamond-paned window. A faint path forks southeast and southwest around the cottage, toward the back. To the north, across the lane that runs through the village, a few small cottages line the road. The clock tower looms further west, silhouetted against the sky.
Go west
A cheery pink bungalow with gingerbread trim and a yellow painted door nestles behind the picket fence to the south. Grass covers the yard from corner to corner, except at the edges, where flowers dance with the fence. Circling the bungalow to the southeast and southwest, a faint path leads around the back. To the north, a few small homes peer across the lane, which has narrowed, but still runs east to west at this end of the village. The clock tower dominates the skyline to the west.

Mary is here.

"Did you miss me?" barks the wolf. "I'm back."

The wolf shifts the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.
You go southeast
Mary tags along behind you.

Grass surrounds you, acres of it, spreading across the countryside as far as you can see. A ribbon of flattened grass curves eastward, and another, not quite as fresh, circles the bungalow, branching northeast and northwest. A grass-covered hill to the southwest shimmers under the sun's heat; waves of green-gold grass ripple toward the crest of the hill, racing the wind to the top.

Mary is here.

A cuddly lamb prances about, seemingly unaware of your presence.

You can also see a pot (which is empty), a picnic basket (which is empty), a cracked porcelain dish, a bent spoon and a battery here.
You get all
pot: Taken.
picnic basket: Taken.
cracked porcelain dish: Taken.
bent spoon: Taken.
battery: Taken.
You go northwest
Mary follows you to the front of the house.

A cheery pink bungalow with gingerbread trim and a yellow painted door nestles behind the picket fence to the south. Grass covers the yard from corner to corner, except at the edges, where flowers dance with the fence. Circling the bungalow to the southeast and southwest, a faint path leads around the back. To the north, a few small homes peer across the lane, which has narrowed, but still runs east to west at this end of the village. The clock tower dominates the skyline to the west.

Mary is here.

You can also see a wolf here.

The wolf leans casually on one elbow and watches you, chewing on his toothpick.
You go southeast
Grass sweeps up the hill like a brushfire, growing taller and thicker as it approaches the top where you brace yourself against the wind. You can see everything from up here: the forest, the village, even the fence where you first met the egg. The schoolhouse and its clock tower lie to the northwest.

A crumbling brick well sits at the very top of the hill, almost hidden in a nest of grass. It's the simplest of designs--no cute roof, no crank, no rope or bucket--just a simple, brick cylinder in the ground. The cover, if it ever had one, is gone. From deep within the well's depths, you hear faint scratching noises interspersed with pathetic mewing.

You notice a familiar-looking wolf lurking in the vicinity.

The wolf loiters in the area, keeping an eye on you.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a battery
a bent spoon
a cracked porcelain dish
a picnic basket (which is open but empty)
a pot (which is open but empty)
You go east
"Bye!" Mary waves. "See you later!"

Blooming with color and fragrance, a tidy garden snuggles against the stone cottage to the south. Ivy frames the whitewashed front door; starched white curtains hang in a diamond-paned window. A faint path forks southeast and southwest around the cottage, toward the back. To the north, across the lane that runs through the village, a few small cottages line the road. The clock tower looms further west, silhouetted against the sky.

"Did you miss me?" barks the wolf. "I'm back."
Go inside
From the scrubbed oak floorboards to the comfy, upholstered furniture gathered around the hearth, this feels like home.

A wooden spinning wheel sits quietly nearby. Its bobbin holds some black yarn.

You can also see a big, giant bag (in which is some soft wool), a medium-sized bag (in which is some glossy wool) and a wee, little bag (in which is some curly wool) here.

You notice a familiar-looking wolf lurking in the vicinity.
You examine the soft wool
The soft black wool is thick and cushiony.

The wolf exits, stage left.
You examine the yarn
The black yarn seems very strong, almost like rope. One end of the yarn is wound around the spinning wheel's bobbin.
You examine glossy
The glossy black wool is airy and buoyant.
You get the yarn
You unwind the yarn from the bobbin.
Tie the yarn to the basket
The handle is gone, so you tie the yarn to a loose piece of straw and give it a tug. The yarn slips off. Then you try to poke the yarn through an undamaged part of the basket's weave, but the straw is so tightly woven that you can't find a gap big enough.
Inventory
You are carrying:
some yarn
a battery
a bent spoon
a cracked porcelain dish
a picnic basket (which is open but empty)
a pot (which is open but empty)

"Heads up!" shouts the wolf in your ear. "Ha, ha, made you look!"
You tie the yarn to the pot
You tie one end of the yarn to the pot handle.

"Don't mind me; I was just leaving," mentions the wolf over his shoulder as he skulks out of sight.
You go outside
Blooming with color and fragrance, a tidy garden snuggles against the stone cottage to the south. Ivy frames the whitewashed front door; starched white curtains hang in a diamond-paned window. A faint path forks southeast and southwest around the cottage, toward the back. To the north, across the lane that runs through the village, a few small cottages line the road. The clock tower looms further west, silhouetted against the sky.
You put pot in well
You lower the pot into the well, letting the yarn slide through your fingers. Oh, no! The yarn is yanked from your hands without warning. Both the pot and the yarn fall to the bottom of the well.
Tie the yarn to well
You'll have to untie the yarn from the pot first.
You examine well
You look down into the well, which is very deep and very dark, but...oh, yes, something moved down there!
Tie the pot to well
You're just being silly. Stop it, or I'll tell your mother.
You give the hose to the kitty
(first taking the well)
(first taking the well)
(the village to the kitten)
(first taking the village)
That's hardly portable.
You put the yarn in well
You'll have to untie the pot first.
Inventory
You are carrying:
some yarn
a pot (which is open but empty and is tied to some yarn)
a battery
a bent spoon
a cracked porcelain dish
a picnic basket (which is open but empty)
You put the basket in well
You throw the picnic basket into the well. In a few moments, you hear a faraway splash and an angry, screeching yowl.
You go northeast
"Hi there," Mary waves. "Nice to see you again."

Grass surrounds you, acres of it, spreading across the countryside as far as you can see. A ribbon of flattened grass curves eastward, and another, not quite as fresh, circles the bungalow, branching northeast and northwest. A grass-covered hill to the southwest shimmers under the sun's heat; waves of green-gold grass ripple toward the crest of the hill, racing the wind to the top.

Mary is here.

A cuddly lamb prances about, seemingly unaware of your presence.
Go north
You can't, since the bungalow blocks your way. You can only go east, northeast, northwest or southwest.
You go to the east
"Bye!" Mary waves. "See you later!"

With no fences to hinder it, the waist-high grass flows unimpeded for miles, like water downstream, covering the world from here to the horizon. Almost hidden by the grass, a narrow path forks northeast and northwest toward the front of the cottage. A swath to the west lies flat, as if someone waded through it not long ago. At the far edge of the meadow, against the western sky, a few cloud feathers drift leisurely behind the clock tower's silhouette.
Go north
You can't, since the cottage blocks your way. You can only go west, northeast or northwest.
You go east
Prickly weeds and burrs weave through the grass, creating a tangle impossible to penetrate any further. You can only go west, northeast or northwest.
Go northeast
Blooming with color and fragrance, a tidy garden snuggles against the stone cottage to the south. Ivy frames the whitewashed front door; starched white curtains hang in a diamond-paned window. A faint path forks southeast and southwest around the cottage, toward the back. To the north, across the lane that runs through the village, a few small cottages line the road. The clock tower looms further west, silhouetted against the sky.
You go east
The footpath snaking down from the northeastern forest has widened here into a country lane. Gravel crunches beneath your feet and a warm breeze riffles your hair as you walk in the sun. Some distance to the west, a few small cottages flock together like children telling secrets. Smoke curls from the chimney of the cottage nearest to you. Beyond the village, further west, a clock tower rises above the surrounding roofs.
Go northeast
Wet branches slap your face, their icy needles stinging. Dense underbrush creeps in from all sides. With each step, mud oozes into your shoes. Insects drop from above and crawl through your hair; knuckles scrape against rough bark. The path hooks from south to southwest here, slithering between the trees like a snake. Faint rustling sounds catch your ear, but when you turn to look, all is still and quiet.

"Did you miss me?" barks the wolf. "I'm back."
You enter
From the scrubbed oak floorboards to the comfy, upholstered furniture gathered around the hearth, this feels like home.

A wooden spinning wheel sits quietly nearby.

You can also see a big, giant bag (in which is some soft wool), a medium-sized bag (in which is some glossy wool) and a wee, little bag (in which is some curly wool) here.
You put the battery in the wheel
You snap the battery into place inside the compartment.

The wolf is back again, hanging around.

The wolf loiters in the area, keeping an eye on you.
You turn on the wheel
The treadle begins to pump, slowly at first, then picking up speed. Soon the wheel is spinning frantically.
You examine the wheel
The spinning wheel is turning so rapidly that you wonder if the whole thing will fly apart and hurl pieces of itself through the air. The bobbin, in particular, looks like a dangerous projectile.

The wolf leaves after a quick reconnaissance.
You turn off the wheel
You flip the toggle switch to the OFF position, and the spinning wheel slows to a stop.
You examine the bobbin
The bobbin is a wooden spindle that collects the finished yarn or thread as it spins. It's empty. The bobbin and spinning wheel are at rest.

You notice a familiar-looking wolf lurking in the vicinity.
You put the yarn on wheel
You wind the loose end of the yarn around the bobbin.

The wolf leaves after a quick reconnaissance.
You turn on the wheel
Slowly, the wheel begins to turn, creaking under the weight of the iron pot. The winding yarn drags the pot behind it and eventually lifts it off the ground. When the bobbin can't turn any further, you flip the toggle switch off again.
You take the pot
(the pot and the yarn)
Taken.
Look around
A cheery pink bungalow with gingerbread trim and a yellow painted door nestles behind the picket fence to the south. Grass covers the yard from corner to corner, except at the edges, where flowers dance with the fence. Circling the bungalow to the southeast and southwest, a faint path leads around the back. To the north, a few small homes peer across the lane, which has narrowed, but still runs east to west at this end of the village. The clock tower dominates the skyline to the west.

A wooden spinning wheel sits quietly nearby. Its bobbin holds some black yarn which is also tied to a pot.

Mary is here.

You can also see a wolf here.

The wolf yawns widely enough for you to count all his teeth.
You drop the pot
(the pot and the yarn)
Dropped.
Up
You're not supposed to cross the street by yourself. Memories of the last time you tried it (and got caught) prevent you from attempting it now. You can only go south, east, west, southeast, southwest or in.

The wolf exits, stage left.
You go southwest
Mary follows you around the corner of the house.

Grass surrounds you, acres of it, spreading across the countryside as far as you can see. A ribbon of flattened grass curves eastward, and another, not quite as fresh, circles the bungalow, branching northeast and northwest. A grass-covered hill to the southwest shimmers under the sun's heat; waves of green-gold grass ripple toward the crest of the hill, racing the wind to the top.

Mary is here.

A cuddly lamb prances about, seemingly unaware of your presence.

You notice a familiar-looking wolf lurking in the vicinity.

The wolf grins at you as he twirls the toothpick in his mouth.
Go northeast
Mary runs ahead, yelling "Come on, hurry up!"

A cheery pink bungalow with gingerbread trim and a yellow painted door nestles behind the picket fence to the south. Grass covers the yard from corner to corner, except at the edges, where flowers dance with the fence. Circling the bungalow to the southeast and southwest, a faint path leads around the back. To the north, a few small homes peer across the lane, which has narrowed, but still runs east to west at this end of the village. The clock tower dominates the skyline to the west.

Mary is here.

A wooden spinning wheel sits quietly nearby. Its bobbin holds some black yarn which is also tied to a pot.

You notice a familiar-looking wolf lurking in the vicinity.

"Listen up," warns the wolf. "In case you forgot, I get blamed for everything around here. So watch it. I ain't takin' no rap for you."
You put the pot in well
You lower the pot into the well, letting the yarn slide through your fingers. Oh, no! The yarn is yanked from your hands without warning and unwinds from the bobbin faster than you can catch it. Both the pot and the yarn fall to the bottom of the well.
You examine the yarn
The black yarn seems very strong, almost like rope. One end of the yarn is wound around the spinning wheel's bobbin; the other end is tied to the pot handle.

The wolf is back again, hanging around.
You examine the bobbin
The bobbin is a wooden spindle that collects the finished yarn or thread as it spins. This one currently holds a skein of black yarn. The bobbin and spinning wheel are at rest.

The wolf grins at you as he twirls the toothpick in his mouth.
You turn on the wheel
Slowly, the wheel begins to turn, creaking under the weight of the iron pot. The winding yarn drags the pot behind it and eventually lifts it off the ground. When the bobbin can't turn any further, you flip the toggle switch off again.
You take the pot
You already have that.

The wolf leans casually on one elbow and watches you, chewing on his toothpick.
You put the pot in well
You lower the pot into the well, letting the yarn slide through your fingers. Oh, no! The yarn is yanked from your hands without warning and unwinds from the bobbin faster than you can catch it. Both the pot and the yarn fall to the bottom of the well.

"Listen up," warns the wolf. "In case you forgot, I get blamed for everything around here. So watch it. I ain't takin' no rap for you."
You turn on the wheel
The treadle begins to pump, slowly at first, then picking up speed. Soon the wheel is spinning frantically.

"I'll be right back," confides the wolf.
Describe the surroundings
Grass sweeps up the hill like a brushfire, growing taller and thicker as it approaches the top where you brace yourself against the wind. You can see everything from up here: the forest, the village, even the fence where you first met the egg. The schoolhouse and its clock tower lie to the northwest.

A crumbling brick well sits at the very top of the hill, almost hidden in a nest of grass. It's the simplest of designs--no cute roof, no crank, no rope or bucket--just a simple, brick cylinder in the ground. The cover, if it ever had one, is gone. From deep within the well's depths, you hear faint scratching noises interspersed with pathetic mewing.

A wooden spinning wheel sits quietly nearby. Its bobbin holds some black yarn which is also tied to a pot.

You can also see a wolf here.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
a pot (which is open but empty and is tied to some yarn)
a bent spoon
a cracked porcelain dish
a picnic basket (which is open but empty)

The wolf grins at you as he twirls the toothpick in his mouth.
You examine the bobbin
The bobbin is a wooden spindle that collects the finished yarn or thread as it spins. This one currently holds a skein of black yarn. The bobbin and spinning wheel are at rest.

The wolf loiters in the area, keeping an eye on you.
Tie the yarn to the bobbin
You tie the loose end of the yarn to the bobbin.

"Later," growls the wolf, waving a paw in your direction as he trots past.
You put the pot in well
You lower the pot into the well, letting the yarn slide through your fingers. In a few moments, you hear a faraway splash and an anxious meow. Then you feel a tug, and the yarn swings in your hands. The pot feels heavier now.
You turn on the wheel
Straining to pull its heavy load up from the bottom of the well, the spinning wheel creaks and groans with each rotation. You peer down into the darkness. There! What was that? Something moved! Something has hitched a ride in the pot!

All of a sudden, you notice the yarn rubbing on the well's edge, fraying dangerously. You try to pull the yarn away from the sharp bricks, but it's too taut; there's no slack. After several tense minutes, the pot finally arrives at the top, and two wide green eyes peek out over the side. Just then, the frayed yarn breaks.

A tiny gray and white kitten leaps for its life as the pot clatters back down the shaft. Front claws gripping the rim, back claws scrabbling furiously against the inside bricks, the kitten at last manages to pull itself up to the safety of the ledge. It sneezes twice in the bright sunshine before jumping into the grass at your feet.

The spinning wheel, freed from the weight of the pot, begins to shake as it picks up speed. You reach over and flip the toggle switch off before the whole thing rattles itself to pieces. Purring, the kitten licks one paw and washes its face.

A slight movement attracts your attention. It's that wolf again.

The kitten arches its back and hisses at the wolf.
Pet kitty
"Nice kitty." The kitten purrs.
Pet wolf
"Don't touch the merchandise," warns the wolf.

"Listen up," warns the wolf. "In case you forgot, I get blamed for everything around here. So watch it. I ain't takin' no rap for you."
Kiss kitty
You give the kitten a great, big kiss and in return the kitten licks your nose with its sandpaper tongue.

The wolf leans casually on one elbow and watches you, chewing on his toothpick.
You eat kitty
The kitten squirms away from you.
You eat kitty
"Nah," declines the wolf. "I don't eat nothing with claws sharper than mine."

The wolf shifts the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.
You roll over
The kitten meows.

"Listen up," warns the wolf. "In case you forgot, I get blamed for everything around here. So watch it. I ain't takin' no rap for you."
You eat the wolf
The kitten ignores you.

The wolf leans casually on one elbow and watches you, chewing on his toothpick.
You throw the kitty at the wolf
(first taking the kitten)
The kitten has its own ideas about that. It squirms and wriggles until you set it free again.

The wolf exits, stage left.
You go northwest
Both the playground and its adjacent schoolhouse to the south lie vacant and deserted. The bare, hard-packed rectangle of earth, despite a few faint chalk marks, shows no evidence that children may have once played here--or might ever play here again.

The lane ends its westward progress at the schoolhouse door. At the southern end of the school, a magnificent stone steeple towers above the village roofs. To see the clock from where you now stand, you must tilt your head back and point your chin at the sky. To the southeast, a gentle slope leads to a hilltop covered with wild grass.

The kitten crouches low, wiggles its rear, and then pounces at nothing.
You go west
You can only go south, east, southeast or in.

"Heads up!" shouts the wolf in your ear. "Ha, ha, made you look!"

The kitten hisses at the wolf from behind your ankles.
Go inside
The abandoned schoolroom lacks not only pupils, but also books and pencils and chalk and paper and any other hint that someone might show up for school tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next. Rows of empty desks and chairs face the teacher's desk at the front of the room as if waiting expectantly for the day's lesson. The door to the north leads back out to the empty schoolyard. Stairs to the south lead up into darkness.

You notice a familiar-looking wolf lurking in the vicinity.

"Listen up," warns the wolf. "In case you forgot, I get blamed for everything around here. So watch it. I ain't takin' no rap for you."
Search desk
Which do you mean, the teacher's desk or one of the student desks?
You examine the teacher's desk
As you might expect, the teacher's desk contains several drawers:

The top right drawer, which is closed.
The top left drawer, which is closed.
The middle drawer, which is closed.
The file drawer, which is closed.

The wolf loiters in the area, keeping an eye on you.
You open top right
You open the top right drawer.
You look in it
The top right drawer is empty.
You open top left
You open the top left drawer.
You look in it
The top left drawer is empty.

The wolf grins at you as he twirls the toothpick in his mouth.
You open middle
You open the middle drawer.
You look in it
The middle drawer is empty.

"I'm blowin' this joint," the wolf explains as he shoves his way past you. "I got places to go, people to see, things to do."

You scratch the kitten behind the ears.
You open the file
You open the file drawer.

The kitten sits and watches you.
You look in it
The file drawer is empty.

You scratch the kitten behind the ears.
You go south
Dimly lit stairs lead back down into the schoolroom. Before you, a heavy, solid door stands firmly closed.

Faintly, through the closed door, you hear something ticking.

The kitten suddenly darts between your legs and zigzags up the steps ahead of you. At that very instant, a tiny brown field mouse scurries across your path, barely escaping with its life when you accidently step on its tail. Chaos erupts. The terrified mouse races in circles, dodging feet and claws. The kitten spits and hisses and rears back on its hind legs, then lunges for the mouse. You hop on one foot, howling with pain, having twisted your ankle while trying to avoid the mouse. To top it all off, someone...or something...is pounding on the other side of the door at the top of the stairs.
You look under the door
You put one eye to the crack at the bottom of the door, but all you can see is a few inches of wood flooring.

"Did you miss me?" barks the wolf. "I'm back."

The kitten arches its back and hisses at the wolf.

Someone...or something...is pounding on the door.

The field mouse cowers in the corner.
You put the spoon in the keyhole
That doesn't seem to fit the lock.

Someone...or something...is pounding on the door.

"Listen up," warns the wolf. "In case you forgot, I get blamed for everything around here. So watch it. I ain't takin' no rap for you."

The kitten crouches low, squirms, and then pounces for the mouse. The mouse, more experienced than the kitten at this sort of thing, leaps straight up into the air. The surprised kitten loses its balance and tumbles over backward.
You ask the wolf about the toothpick
The wolf snarls at you and chews on a toothpick.

Someone...or something...is pounding on the door.

Panting heavily, the mouse twitches its whiskers anxiously.
You take the mouse
As you reach for the mouse, it gives a terrified squeak and scurries in the opposite direction, out of your reach.

Someone...or something...is pounding on the door.

The wolf grins at you as he twirls the toothpick in his mouth.

The mouse makes a desperate attempt to escape under the door to the south, but retreats when the kitten skids into the door first. Immediately, the mouse circles back toward the stairs, sees you and reverses direction again, angling diagonally across the landing and into the shadows.
You take kitty
You scoop the squirming kitten into your arms, where it struggles to free itself, its eyes riveted on the mouse below. The mouse, quick to recognize this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, dashes under the door. With one last twisting backwards flip, the kitten launches itself from your embrace and lands on its feet, ready for battle.

Without warning, a single deep, booming gong rocks the tower. Your hands fly up involuntarily to cover and protect your ears, and you drop everything you're carrying. The vibration of the tolling bell resonates through your chest, even after the audible tone fades. In the silence that follows, you hear the sound of running feet, first nearby, then receding, from the other side of the door.

The kitten, ever curious, shoves one paw between the threshold and the door, groping blindly for the escaped mouse. A few swipes later, something metallic skitters across the floor and into the corner.

Faintly, through the closed door, you hear something ticking.

The wolf grins at you as he twirls the toothpick in his mouth.
You get the key
Taken.

Faintly, through the closed door, you hear something ticking.

The wolf yawns widely enough for you to count all his teeth.
You unlock the door with it
You unlock the clock tower door and open it.

"Don't mind me; I was just leaving," mentions the wolf over his shoulder as he skulks out of sight.

Loud clicks and whirring noises are coming from inside the room to the south.
Go south
Dim, greenish light from above reflects off an assortment of large brass gears mounted flat against a stone wall on the far side of the room. Taut cables run upward through a network of pulleys, vanishing into the gloom more than twenty feet above your head. The entire mechanism turns and meshes in a slow, rhythmic, hypnotic clockwork dance.

The kitten follows you wherever you go.

As your eyes adjust to the room's dim light, you notice a shadowy figure standing to one side.
You examine the figure
You squint, peering through the shadows. "Mom?"

It's your mother! What's she doing here?

The kitten meows for attention.

Your mother gathers you inside the circle of her arms and hugs until you can hardly breathe. Then she picks you up and twirls you around, skimming your feet over the floor as she whirls. She laughs out loud. "You found me!" When she puts you down again, you feel a little dizzy.
You examine the Mother
It's your mother! What's she doing here?

"I don't think I've told you much about my new job, have I?" asks your mother cheerfully. "I was nervous at the interview, but when I told Mr. Dumpty about you, he said my experience as your mother qualified me for any challenge I might face as Mother Loose."
You ask the mom about the kitty
"I suppose it followed you here all by itself?" your mother asks, smiling.

"I decided my first task as Mother Loose would be to fix this old clock," explains your mother, resting her hand on one of the cables. "It hasn't worked in years. You can't imagine how I felt when that heavy door locked behind me, especially since summer vacation had started and no one knew I was up here. Good thing I brought my lunch with me."
You examine the clock
The heavy brass gears, now tarnished with age, vary in size: the smallest would allow you to spread-eagle yourself across its surface, hands and feet at opposite edges; the largest spans three times that diameter. Sinewy cables as thick as your thumb disappear overhead after running through pulleys fastened with huge iron bolts to the walls and floor.

"The key must have jammed the clockworks," your mother says. "When the mouse ran up the clock, it jarred the key loose, and that's what started these gears working again. I'll bet you could hear those bells all the way to the forest."
No
"Pardon?" asks your mother.

Sighing deeply, your mother gazes at you without saying a word. Uh, oh. You know that look. Trouble. She crooks her finger at you to come closer, and you step forward unwillingly, eyes focused on the floor.

Putting one arm around your shoulders, she asks, "What am I going to do with you?" She squats down, brushing your hair away from your face and leaning close to whisper in your ear, "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

Find out what? Your mind gallops along the course of the day, trying to remember, trying to think, trying to figure out what kind of trouble you're in now.

Your mother stands up again and looks down at you from very far away. "Before we leave, tell me the truth: did you eat from a dirty spoon you picked up off the ground, attack the egg, break into the cottage, steal a spinning wheel and neglect to return Mary's ladder?"
No
"Your mother raises an eyebrow. "On our way home today, I think we might discuss the difference between real life and fantasy." The slightest of smiles tugs at her face. "Your understanding of the subject seems a trifle vague."

How does she do that? How on earth could she possibly know what you did or didn't do while she was locked inside the clock tower? How, how, how does she always find out? You'd give anything to know her secret, but she won't tell.
Yes
Crime may not pay, but honesty carries its own price tag, as you discovered long ago. You prepare yourself for the unpleasant consequences of telling the truth: first, of course, comes the inevitable parental lecture. Then, your apology, complete with a Promise To Do Better Next Time. With any luck at all, you might reduce your sentence with a Sincere Yet Cheerful Attitude, although if you attempt this too soon you could end up in deeper trouble for Not Taking Things Seriously.

You brace yourself, ready to face the music. To your utter amazement, you hear your mother say, "Thank you for telling me the truth. I expect you had other things on your mind at the time."

How does she do that? How on earth could she possibly know what you did or didn't do while she was locked inside the clock tower? How, how, how does she always find out? You'd give anything to know her secret, but she won't tell.
You look
"Yo, mamma!" The wolf pokes his head around the door. "Got a minute? Ain't none of my business, but you got trouble brewin'. There's a baby stuck in a treetop out here. When the wind blows, the cradle rocks like a rubber duckie on the high seas. If that bough breaks, the cradle will fall and--whammo!--down will come baby, cradle and the whole shebang, y'know what I mean?"
Lounge
Please give one of the answers above.