Our Friend the Forest Mouse

The woods leaned heavily as the wind whipped through the trees. Their branches creaking and whimpering in pain as elbows knocked into one another. The incoming storm filled the air with a charge. Our friend, the forest mouse, could feel the static dance across his brown fur, making the hairs stand at attention. Nervously, he ran his tiny paws over his face and ears to discharge some of the static. He would have to start running soon.

Rain weighed heavy on the darkening clouds but did not yet spill over. Instead, they gathered and stirred up above. The swirling changing the sky from black to green. Danger was immenmient. Anything could happen.

Our friend raised his nose as high into the sky as possible, stretching his tiny body to its full three-inch length. He breathed deeply. Tasting the humidity in the air. Looking for a sign—the smell of a particular burrow hidden underneath an old stump. If there was anywhere for our friend to go, it was that wooden fortress.

Calibrating himself by twisting and turning, our friend quickly found his destination: to the west, away from the coming storm and deeper into the woods. A distance that could be managed if he pushed his hardest and ran as fast as he could manage. There would be little room for error. 

The sky continued getting greener, the wind howling between the trees, a cacophony of sounds as the forest was swept up and battered. It was then that the first drops began their heavy descent. Big fat drops that could drown flies mid-fall. The kind that could knock a forest mouse off his balance.

Our friend gathered himself into a sort of runner’s starting position, his haunces raised, ready to spring him into action. He steadied his breath and waited for the starting gun. Lightning flashed across the sky in an instant. He counted down the seconds to the sound of the thunder, timing when the storm would make its landing. As the deep rumbles shook the forest, our friend bolted from his hidden position, running as fast as his four legs could take him; off to the west, where the fortress would protect him. 

The storm’s sieging forces were moving quickly, and a forest mouse was a very vulnerable fellow under these circumstances. But Mother Nature had knighted our friend with an advantage. His small size and speed made him the perfect navigator for this neighbourhood. He’d spent his life here and knew all the hidden nooks and crannies, the underground tunnels and the canopy highways. Even on the darkest nights, our friend could always find home—one of them, anyway. 

Halfway to the fortress, our friend pauses once more. He stands high and tests the sky. Seeking answers for this calamity. The forest is quiet. You can smell the fear of small things in between the rain. He knew his friends were safe; they had never ventured this far. It was his curiosity and sight-seeking nose that led him away, sometimes foolishly. 

But he was almost there. The scent of the fortress was more pungent now, and he knew of its tunnels, which could take him safely home. Back to the warmth of his den, tail tucked around his friends. 

The storm had made land, and trees were panicking. The rain poured out of the sky in great buckets, taking leaves and debris down with them.  The forest floor was slick with mud now, making the terrain even more challenging to navigate and washing away some trail markers. There was an ever-present crackling in the air, and the thunder seemed to increase from rumblings into growls, like the badgers on their bad days. 

Our friend took off bolting again. Ducking and diving between the larger drops of rain as best he could. Their brutal assault would do nothing but slow him down and make him sore tomorrow morning. So he ran, his little legs working as fast as they could, sometimes launching him up into the sky before his mind could catch up with where he was going. It was pure instinct that took over now. All he could do was hold on. 

Suddenly, the woods illuminated for one awful moment, turning the moss, leaves, and branches into scenes from a horror movie. Their abstract shapes transforming the familiar forest into something more sinister, older and unknowable for just a brief blink of an eye. There was a loud crack of lightning as electricity connected with a tree not far from the forest mouse. Had the conditions been any dryer, a fire would have started. Fortunately for our friend, the rainy season had indeed been rainy for once. 

The distance between the forest mouse and the fortress was down to mere strides now. He could feel that swelling sense of safety rise in his fuzzy chest, and his legs began to slow down so he wouldn’t crash upon arrival in these slippery conditions. But thinking too hard about his safety, our poor friend was jinxed. His back paw slipped out from under him, mere mouse steps from the fortress’s front door. He felt a terrible pain as he leaned on his side and attempted to scramble upright. But the heavy mud pulled him down, and he couldn’t gather a steady grip. 

Safety turned to panic as our friend, the forest mouse, struggled to pull himself from the mud. The villainous storm drowned out his frustration. There were even a few curses. Fortunately, his friends were near. They had been tracking his scent since they felt the first rumblings of thunder deep in their underground burrow. They had been worried he’d get trapped by the storm.

Relief flooded our friend when he saw his rescuers. As a team, they worked to pull him from the mud and led him to the cover of the tree stump. Tonight, they would be safe again. The ancient woods would protect them as they stood their ground against the storm. For the mice were the caretakers of the forest, and the trees knew that. Together, mouse and wood curled into each other, warm and protected, while thunder rumbled overhead.