[ WP ] You have uncovered the dangerous secret behind why the Trix rabbit should n't get ahold of Trix cereal .

Colors blurred past the three of us as we trampled through the plains. I tried to keep myself from looking back; I had to accept that if I could n't see him, he was probably long gone. Poor Jimmy, it was his idea in the first place. The creature used to be so docile until we learned why it has been kept in near starvation for so long. I still can hear the beast's neck stretching, the scarring sound of it's bloodied teeth coming forth and white fur recoiling into stakes of malice. 
 Oh god, I can hear him screaming. He was too young... 
 
 No time to think. I can mourn if I live. I see a forest coming up; maybe we can hide this out. Who knows how long this rampage will last, though... 
 The silent grass begins to transition into the rattle of leaves, and the blur of environment turns into shades of brown and olive. The padded trampling of the beast never seems to have caught up, though. We begin to slow our pace, conserving our energy for -- no, I do n't want to think about that again. For now, we're alive. 
 
 Our wordless, solemn sneak through the forest continued for at least an hour before words returned to us. 
 
 `` It's... Getting late. We need to find shelter'' said Alice, still stunned and shaking. 
 
 She's right. Until now, I have been walking like a machine; focusing on my own existence and not even noting the surroundings. For all I know, we could have walked though a small city and I would n't have noticed it. It just feels like the wrong time to be doing anything given what still occupies our minds. 
 Thankfully, Peter quickly noted a small cabin. It's probably some abandoned hunter's shack, judging by the diminutive size. Upon closer inspection, it seems to have been abandoned for several decades, likely more. It still has four walls and a roof, at least. Upon creaking open the dusty door, it seems as though many of the supplies have been left here, too. 
 
 Alice and Peter begin setting up the place for the night, with Peter beginning a fire from the flint and steel he salvaged, and Alice making sure the ground had no fire ants or hornets, as are native to this area. 
 I looked around the cabin, finding some basic hunting supplies and a small reserve of unspoiled rations left in a sloppy pile in the corner. 
 
 `` Hey, maybe we should have a watch for tonight. Y'know, given what... Happened...'' 
 
 `` Sure thing, Pete. I want to go ahead and look over this journal I fond here, anyway. Maybe it can tell us what this guy had in this shack.'' I was attempting to have a relaxed tone of voice, but I could n't keep it going. 
 
 The others soon drifted to sleep, exhausted from the earlier sprint. 
 I flipped open the journal. It appears to be a sea log. Evidently the coast is not too far. 
 
 One particular page struck me as I glanced over the pages. Starting at at the entry for June 3, 1959, the handwriting became nigh illegible. It talked of some great storm that caused the crew panic. They shipwrecked near this forest, from what I could tell. The handwriting got better as they started to settle to the land, at least. 
 
 Before I knew it, I was at the last page. The final entry was dated February 9, 1961. No mention of this cabin came up, so I set the book aside and looked around again, taking note of the wall and peering outside. I raised a burning stick to the darkness. 
 Nothing. 
 I went back inside, prepared to wake one of the others for a rotation of watch. Suddenly, I noticed something on the back of the book. The dark writing was hard to see on the aged leather, so I must have missed it. Something seemed off about it. A chill shot through my hand as I grasped it once again. 
 
 > January 1, 1970 
 > 
 > The creature is here. I know why the storm came. It wants us here. The thing transformed. Crew dead. You're dead. run 
 > 
 > TRIX ARE NOT FOR RABBITS 
 > 
 > ~ Captain John L. Crunch, final log
