text: You sigh. "Okay, what's your advice then? But I've already tried everything, you know. I just can't figure out how to make a girl want to be with me."
  
  "See, now there's your problem right there. It's not about the girls! That's my advice right there: instead of trying to figure out how you can 'make' them love you, why not take a look at what you can do to make yourself more worthy of being loved in the first place? Then, have confidence that you...yes, even someone as..." The fairy gestures helplessly for words for a moment, "...someone as you as you, can achieve those goals and better yourself! And after that, anything is possible!"
  
  Wow, was that supposed to make you feel better? But there's nothing you can do but insincerely thank her and trudge off. You crawl into a hole and feel sad awhile.
  
  Then, you start mentally ticking off the squirrel girls you're aware of that are still single and that you have an interest in. So, not the ugly ones of course. But, there's...let's see...there's Burblebrook, you suppose. She lives across the river and has been friendly and talkative--some would say even too talkative--the few times you've run into each other. She's a red squirrel, like the rest of her family. Not that you have anything against red squirrels of course, they're just somewhat rare around here. They keep to themselves and have some strange customs, which is probably why no one else in your neighborhood has made a move on their chieftain's daughter.
  
  And then there's always Kissberry. But whoa, talk about out of your league. She's the most desirable squirrel girl around, but all the squirrel boys you know have been too intimidated to ask her out. And of course it doesn't help that her parents set impossible tasks for any would-be suitors that usually end in grisly death.
  
  You begin thinking of what you could do to make yourself worthy of their love.
  
  The last time you spoke to Burblebrook, she had blathered on excitedly about an annual event her family participated in, something she referred to as a 'charity nutting'. There's a stand of sacred trees fiercely guarded by her tribe, trees so incredibly virile that they get their nuts out even in the early Spring, and when you go there to nut, apparently, you're nutting for the poor, the elderly, and infirm.
  
  The idea seemed ridiculous at first, of course. Why would you ever want to think about some decrepit snaggle-toothed old lady squirrels while nutting? But now, you could see yourself nutting for anyone, if it raises you in Burblebrook's esteem.
  
  As for Kissberry... Well, that's all going to depend on what her parents have to say.
  
  > Court Kissberry.
  You go to seek out Kissberry, and find her shelling acorns.
  
  "Look, Barkbiter, I like you. I mean, you're a huge dork, but I like you anyway. So, don't even get any ideas about me, okay? My parents are seriously crazy and will get you killed," she matter of factly informs you. Sniffing out a worm hole and tossing the offending acorn aside, she selects another and uses her oversized front teeth to strip the shell away with machine-like precision and add it to a neat pile. "I've seen it happen plenty of times before."
  
  "Seen what happen?" A pair of larger squirrels suddenly drop down from a higher branch to land on either side of you. The female titters. "Oh, it's another little squirrel boy, making eyes at our daughter. How adorable."
  
  "Or were you just leaving, son?" asks the father, in a voice that suggests that would be very wise indeed.
  
  Stealing your nerves and building CONFIDENCE in yourself to achieve the impossible, you face him squarely. "Sir, I'm here to seek out your daughter's paw in marriage."
  
  "Ahh, it's been awhile since anyone's been willing to make the attempt, after what happened the last time. But come over here, my boy. Let's talk."
  
  Kissberry selects another acorn with a shrug. "Well, you're dead. Don't say I didn't warn you."
  
  Without giving you much choice in the matter, the parents draw you aside.
  
  "See, here's the thing. We love our daughter."
  
  "We love her very, very much."
  
  "We're not about to see her married off to some random idiot."
  
  "Or at the very least, we want it to be a very lucky random idiot."
  
  "So, we've devised a little test. A way to prove your worthiness, as it were. You willing to go through with it?"
  
  They eye you expectantly, rubbing their paws together with almost ghoulish glee.
  
  > No backing out now!
  They seem delighted to hear your answer, and waste no time in explaining what you must do.
  
  Far away, across the forest and across the wide open fields beyond, there is a tree. A very special tree, called the Jugglenut. Each of this tree's nuts are enormous, enough to feed an entire family, and they want you to bring them two. It seems no squirrel girl in Kissberry's family has ever been married off without having jugglenuts prepared at the wedding feast, a tradition going back countless generations to when the ancient pioneer squirrel who founded the family actually planted the tree.
  
  You set out immediately on the dangerous trek, dodging danger after danger as you make your way through dark and unfamiliar parts of the forest.
  
  Finally, you reach the edge of the wood, and beyond it stretches a sight that would strike fear into the heart of any squirrel; an empty, open field, not a tree anywhere to run to for safety and nothing but smooth hay grass for what must be nearly a mile. Far away, in the distance, you see what must be the tree you seek, standing proud and erect, offering its nuts to anyone brave enough to seize them.
  
  > go forth and take possession of the nuts!
  Proceeding with caution and trembling with fright at every strange noise and every time you startle a bird or a lizard hidden among the grass, you make your way across the field of destiny. The jugglenut tree vanishes from view once you drop down to ground level. You can only see the grass a short ways in front of you, and more than once fear you've accidentally wandered astray.
  
  As the day wears on, the light southerly breeze begins to shift in direction, bringing you quite suddenly a powerful scent of fox from somewhere quite close by. You freeze up, preparing to make a dash for...for where, you don't know. There's nothing but grass, and more grass!
  
  "Hah! I've got you now!" a triumphant voice yells, and you leap to one side as the hidden fox suddenly pounces.
  
  A vixen, a mature female but clearly still young enough to be inexperienced at hunting scrambles after you as you race across the grass, zigging and zagging this way and that to try and lose her.
  
  "Get back here, we have a lunch date!"
  
  Exhausted but with no chance to slow down or stop, you get a bit ahead of her with some clever maneuvering, only to be drawn up short when you stumble into an odd open area. Rainwater has collected into a kind of natural basin here, apparently used as a wallow for larger, hooved animals, and you wind up in a pool of water before you realize what's happening.
  
  All around the edges of the pool there's a collection of bright red mud, with patches of sharply contrasting black scattered through it. Looking at it gives you a desperate idea.
  
  > use the mud to disguise your fur.
  You roll around in the red mud, battering your tail, and then dabble the black mud on your paws and muzzle. You hardly finish before the vixen bursts into view, looking around frantically.
  
  "Hey," she says, walking up to you. "Have you seen a squirrel around here?"
  
  "N-no...what kind of squirrel would be in a field?" you say.
  
  "I dunno, a really stupid one that wants to be a meal, I guess."
  
  You realize you've been holding your breath and let it out slowly. "Umm...no, no squirrels here! Just me, a red fox, as you can see by my red fur. I was just having a bath here in the pool."
  
  "Oh, that must be why you're all wet, and why you don't smell like a fox at all."
  
  "Y-yeah, that sounds logical."
  
  "Anyway, I'm Mouse Eviscerator. What's your name, cutie?"
  
  "My name?" You think fast. "Uh...I'm...uh..." Well, you try to think fast. "........"
  
  She looks at you, waiting.
  
  "Bark...biter? Wait, crap."
  
  "Oh? Like the way a dog's bark is supposed to be worse than its bite? That's kind of neat, I guess. Are you from somewhere with a lot of dogs?" She tilts her head as she speaks, gazing at you with interest.
  
  "Dogs? Uh, sure! I lived by a farm, like, killed chickens and stuff all the time. Lots of dogs to dodge." Inspiration strikes. "My name actually comes from the time I bit a dog that was barking at me!"
  
  "Whoooaaaa. That's super cool. You must be really brave!"
  
  "Yeah, I know."
  
  "Anyway, I knew you must be from somewhere far away, since I know all the foxes around these parts and I've never seen you before. You're uh, a little on the short side, maybe, but I'd love to get to know you better." She winks at you.
  
  > get to know her better.
  It turns out that foxy ladies, or this one anyway, are quite forward about certain things and before long you find yourself enjoying her company immensely. Eviscerator is about twice as tall as you are so it's true in some ways you feel inadequate, but she doesn't have any complaints and seems to enjoy the time spent with you too.
  
  Afterwards, she invites you home to meet her family. You start to stammer out an excuse, but it's too late for that. You've gone too far. Your feeble protests fall on deaf ears as she steers you toward her den.
  
  "Why, who is this?" her mother asks.
  
  "Mom, this is Barkbiter, my new foxfriend. He's really sweet."
  
  "Oh. Well he's a little...small, isn't he?"
  
  Eviscerator giggles. "Not where it counts!"
  
  "Umm...nice to meet you, ma'am. But it's been a long day and I don't like to intrude, so maybe I should--"
  
  "Achoo!" A large male climbing into the burrow behind you suddenly sneezes. "Whew, sorry about that. Anyway, I'm Eviscie's father, and--"
  
  He sniffles, then sneezes again.
  
  "Odd." Eviscerator's mother is looking at you intently. You don't like it.
  
  "Do you have a cold, sir?" you ask politely.
  
  "No, just allergies."
  
  "But dear," the mother protests. "The only thing you're allergic to is..."
  
  They both turn their hungry yellow eyes upon you. "Squirrels!"
  
  Trapped in the dark foxes' den, the last thing hear is a strange mixture of sneezing, snarling, a complaining Eviscerator being grounded for a month. Oh, and someone calling you a pervert.