Bolstered and cheered by their victory, the mice celebrate with vigour. Rusty enjoys the pleasant company of friends and family and Bucksnort relishes the refreshing feeling of being out and about, doing some action yet again. They regale each other and all willing to listen of the great times they have had together and the thrilling battles won. Dirk enjoys the stories and records their banter for his journals.

The next day, however, a strange sight appears. A young mouse comes scurrying into town, ridding on a gigantic rabbit! Their town is threatened by a Terrible Beast, one too frightening to be able to even begin to describe, let alone comprehend how terrible it is.

“Please, sirs, we are in desparate need of assistance!”, the messenger cries.

The guard mice are excited by another chance to prove their might and test their mettle. Unable to get clearer details from the mouse, they decide to set out at once. The messenger pleads for them to travel as fast as possible and offers to privide them with mounts of their own so they can ride quickly. Distrustful of this “new fangled shinanagries”, Bucksnort is eventually talked into climbing aboard a rabbit and the party sets forth, quickly reaching their destination with less than a day of travel.

Once again the Guard mice find a town in disarray. Distraught mice scurry around in hushed voices fearful of the Beast within their midst. Taking one glance at the creature, Bucksnort turns towards the idiotic messenger and slaps him upside the head.

“It’s a snapping turtle, you ignorant nitwit!”

Sure enough, lodged between the partially crushed tavern and the bakery nearby is a giant snapping turtle, dozing and warming itself against the stones of the ovens, having wedged itself between the two buildings. Initially at a loss as to how to get such a large and recalcitrant creature to budge, the crew slips into the tavern to see if there is anything that can be salvaged, and sip a few brews.

After debating various ways to try to get the beast to move, it is decided that all the suggestions involving the townfolk are too dangerous. The turtle may lunge out and bite folk, it may head further into town, or may not even move. Eventurally the mice hit upon a plan to, literally, light a fire under its feet and motivate it to leave on its own. The bakery is already mostly destroyed, so Dirk and Rusty will torch the building, lighting the turtle on fire, and drive it to the lake. Bucksnort will climb onto its shell and slash at its face if it seems to be veering in a different direction.

Bucksnort carefully clambors across the shell and lashes a rope to the hoary shell near the turtle’s head as the other mice stoke the fires of the bakery’s remains. Soon the turtle begins to stir in discomfort as its warm bed begins to heat up. Soon it lunges to its feet with a bellow. Bucksnort leaps forward to lash the Beast’s eye in an attempt to drive it towards the water, but slips and tumbles off the turtle to end dangling from his safety rope.

The turtle in mounting agony trundles towards the waters as Bucksnort helplessly flounders trying to regain some footing. Dirk, seeing the desparate situation, scrambles across the flaming shell and grabbing the rope, reels his aged companion back up to safety, then both dive off into the sand on the edge of the lake as the great turtle wades back in and submerges himself.

Elated at their brilliant success once again, Bucksnort and Rusty set forth to celebrate. No sense in letting the cracked casks and kegs full of delicious juices and ales in the destroyed tavern go to waste and spoil!

The townfolk join in the revelries and a joyous party begins. Soon a feast is enjoined and festivities begin. A table of honor is laid out for our visiting heros as the rescued mice thank them for their bravery.

As our party sit there at the table, Dirk expresses his concerns with his companion’s recklessness in the handling of the Turtle Affair. After all, they burned down the bakery –“Ah, it was already boarderline ruins!”–, the fire almost spread to other parts of the the town –“but it didn’t, did it?”–, Bucksnort almost fell to be trampled or eaten or drug under the water and drowned –“One feels so alive with the blood coursing from the thrill of danger! Besides, you were right there and we live to have another day, my boy!”–, and now they are just ….

A beautiful young mouse who has been fawning around the table most of the night approaches Dirk at this moment with her bright glittering eyes.

“You were wonderful,” she exclaims. “I really admire you! Would you marry me?”

Dirk is aghast and at a loss of words. Bucksnort and Rusty exchange glances and laugh delightedly.

“See, my lad! Things are looking bright!” They wink and chuckle at each other. “Let’s let these delightful love birds have some time together!” And they stand up and move way from the table. “Dirk, the night is young, and so are you!”

Over the next couple of days Flower, as her name turns out to be, accompanies Dirk around. He tries to express that he is very flattered by her attentions, but he has duties, and he fears that he cannot leave the two older mice free to rampage across the territories unbridled –think of the chaos they would leave in their wake– and he’s not ready to leave the guard and settle down. Flower helps him gather herbs and medicinal plants and listens with rapt attention to his recollections of their travels.

Rusty and Bucksnort take merriment at Dirk’s discomfort and relax and enjoy the next couple of days as they prepare to continue on their exciting journeys.

Epilogue

Despite his initial reluctance, Bucksnort ended up actually quite liking the traveling on rabbit back.

No aching joints and stiffness from war wounds, comfortable soft fur to nestle in while travelling at temendous speeds. Why, having a mount of his own would be be a wonderful experience. However, bunnies are so … tame. What would be grand would be a creature of cunning and might, one that could not only traverse the terrain, but carry him to exciting heights and thunder into battle. What he really needed, was a battle-coon. Ah, some day, he thinks, some day.