Why, Hawthorne, must you put in me a position where I have to balance my love of woodland fantasy against my complete exhaustion with chopping things down to build other things? There are two scurrying mammals wearing robes inside of me, and they both love Redwall, Mice And Mystics, and Mouse Guard, but might spontaneously combust if they have to craft another hatchet. A trailer, eh? Is…is that a mouse and an otter dancing on top of a table, each grasping a mug of ale of their tiny paws and dancing to fiddle music? Fine! Fine! I’m not happy about this, but Fine!