Illustration by Jillian Rees
Deep in the strange forest—half dead and sprinkled with the bones of long extinct creatures—was an even stranger nest. It was large and rotting, parts of it collapsed and covered in foliage. But it was The Mouse’s favorite place in the entire forest. The large nest was full of the prettiest rocks The Mouse had ever seen. These rocks were flat and could be pulled open and they were full of leaves. The leaves, in turn, had colorful markings on them. The leaves were mesmerizing, fascinating, and oddly delicious. On occasion, the markings looked like things The Mouse had seen. Sometimes, even The Mouse themself would be in one of the rocks.
The Mouse found the pareidolia too uncanny and often theorized to the other mice that these rocks were constructed by some great beast no longer in the forest. A beast that, perhaps, walked on two legs and kept the mice of old in cages and could wield fire as if it were earth. The other mice usually told The Mouse that they were being “hysterical” and to “shut up.”
It was when The Mouse was in this strange nest that The Friend came to talk. The Friend was The Mouse’s only friend, which The Mouse was quite fine with. Unlike the other mice, The Friend always listened to The Mouse’s theories.
“The council,” The Friend began, then hesitated, his whiskers twitching, “has decided to send you to The Big Meeting.” The Big Meeting was the annual meeting of the denizens of the forest to discuss things of relevance to the forest as a whole.
“Why?” The Mouse asked, “I spend all my time here looking around. I’m not good at the whole ‘maintaining the sociopolitical balance between the species’ thing.”
This was a very good point.
“Because,” explained The Friend, “you weren’t there when The King said not it.”
This too was a very good point.
The Mouse knew this, so they sighed and went back to rooting around. The Friend went to help in silence, likely because he knew there was no talking to The Mouse when they were like this.
Despite three days notice, The Mouse arrived late to The Big Meeting. Days were a strange thing. To the flies, they were eons. To the turtles, just moments. To the mice, they were pretty long. A lot happens in a day when you are small. This was a fact everyone in the forest knew.
So although The Mouse had known about the meeting, if anyone really expected them to show up on time—they were expecting too much.
The Mouse squinted in the light and continued on their way to the meeting place, which was marked by a large and twisted tree at the center of the forest. The Tree was picked for this honor because of how unlike a tree it was. Shiny, gray, and leafless, it was stark compared to the trees around it, which were far from lush but had much softer bark. No bird or squirrel could make its home in The Tree’s branches. One time a woodpecker attempted to nose at it, then found himself with a cracked beak.
The Mouse entered the ring of grassless dirt around the meeting place. They did happen to notice that they were the last one to arrive but felt no guilt or shame over it.
Predators, prey, and tricksters alike milled about and conversed as they waited for The Mouse’s arrival. It took everyone a minute to notice The Mouse already had arrived—again, they were quite small.
The Owl noticed first.
“Oh finally, there you are. Are they the last one?” The Owl’s head turned towards The Dog.
“Yup, yup, yup,” The Dog answered, leaping to her feet. “We were waiting on the Mouse. Everyone’s here. Owl, Dog, Bear, Wolf, Bee, Horse—”
“I didn’t ask for a whole list,” The Owl informed her. The Dog sat back down. “Okay, so I guess we should get started. Squirrel, would you like to start?”
“Squirrel,” The Dog echoed. The Owl eyed her suspiciously. But, when The Dog did not continue, The Owl turned back to the branch where The Squirrel rested.
The Squirrel cleared her throat. “Yes, I am this Big Meeting’s Head Squirrel, I have won the trials and proven myself to be The Most and Best.”
“Most and Best,” the other representatives echoed.
“Racoon,” The Dog murmured, a bit too late to be disguised by the chorus.
The Squirrel cleared her throat again.
“Yes, so, I would first like to ask whoever believes they have the most pressing issue to speak up now.”
“I have something,” said The Dog.
“Do you just want to finish naming all of us?” asked The Squirrel.
“Yes.”
The majority of the animals all groaned in a cacophony of anguish. The Mouse settled in amongst some smooth rocks and grimaced.
“Oh, let her finish!” The Mouse called. They thought perhaps The Dog could fill up the time with her list and they wouldn’t have to listen to anyone’s problems.
The Dog perked up at the suggestion.
“No!” The Squirrel dismissed with an amused chitter. “Now does anyone have any actual business?”
“I do,” The Bear bellowed effortlessly. Bears were decisive like that. They either didn’t say a word or were as loud as possible.
“You have the floor,” The Squirrel graciously offered.
“Oh, thank you,” The Bear dropped down and rolled around for a moment before sitting back up to present his problem. “The dirty, villainous, evil, spiteful, vandalizing, conniving, idiotic…” it seemed for a moment that he might stop but then he opened his mouth again. “Dastardly—”
“Okay!” The Squirrel interrupted. “Is there a point to this list?”
“The beavers have chopped down a tree. A tree with exquisite rough bark that had no bitey-bugs living in it and was perfectly sized for scratching all of a bear’s back in one shimmy.” The Bear demonstrated the aforementioned shimmy and pouted.
“We can find a new tree for the bears?” The Squirrel offered.
“This will not do, that was our favorite tree.” The Bear shook his head. “Me and my sleuth have already decided we will eat all of the beavers for their crimes. I just wanted to let everyone know.”
“I’ve got a problem with that!” The Beaver yelled.
“Beaver,” The Dog noted.
“That would have annoying effects on the ecosystem. Eat one beaver and let the issue rest.” The Squirrel decreed.
“Hey!” The Beaver yelled again.
“ALL OF THEM! I wish to devour the whole of their species and then find the bones of their ancestors to pluck them from my TEETH!” The Bear roared. He stood up on his hind legs and waved his front legs around wildly.
“No,” The Squirrel said.
The Bear sat back down and pouted again. “Fine.”
“This is rude!” The Beaver complained.
“This is nature,” said The Squirrel. “And I am the Most and Best.”
“Most and Best,” everyone repeated.
The Bear gestured to his eyes and then to The Beaver with two sharp claws and The Beaver sighed.
“Does anyone have something else?” The Squirrel asked.
“Yes,” The Rabbit stepped forward.
“Rabbit!” The Dog yipped.
“Go ahead,” The Squirrel graciously allowed.
“I don’t know if anyone else has noticed but the forest is kind of dying?”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.
The Mouse had noticed but hadn’t been particularly bothered by the barren trees, wilting grass, and wiry flowers. The other mice had managed to find enough food amongst the dying wood.
“Is this really an issue for the whole forest?” The Coyote asked.
Everything got very, very loud. To the point where The Squirrel had to bang a rock against The Tree to settle everyone.
“What is THAT supposed to mean?” The Rabbit asked when it got quiet enough.
“I don’t eat plants, I eat you.” The Coyote shrugged.
“But I eat the plants! How will you eat if I can’t? What will any of you predators eat once we have died? Our bones?” The Rabbit asked, “the skeletons of trees?”
“I’d be fine with that.” The Vulture said.
“Vulture,” said The Dog.
No one else had an answer.
“Well…” The Squirrel hesitated, “I guess we will,” she winced, “need to eat each other.” Everyone thought it over. And then began, once more, to talk over each other.
“I for one,” called The Deer, who had a penchant for violence and a naturally large voice, “see no problem with this.”
The Horse, The Groundhog, and The Ant all nodded.
The Mouse, who had been thinking about a particularly odd rock and only half listening, was struck quite suddenly with an Opinion. It was rare for them to feel one coming on so substantial that it demanded to be spoken. But this Opinion took hold of The Mouse’s entire body in a taloned, unrelenting grip.
“No,” The Mouse squeaked. “No, what? No! I mean. . . it’s fine for you to eat us,” they nodded at the Owl amongst the other predators, “but us eating you? No! Do my teeth look like they were made for Squirrels? For deer? I am a mouse! I eat mouse things, leaves, fruit, and grains. And then I am eaten. That is what I do! That and rummage! ROUGHAGE AND RUMMAGE! What kind of mouse would I be if I did not do these things? What kind?”
“Will you starve to be a mouse? Is it that important?” The Deer asked.
“Yes,” The Mouse answered timidly, shrinking back.
“Will your brethren? The forest is dying. We all know it! Look at our Great and peculiar Tree around which we gather. It has never lived. Soon we will be all that is living. I’d rather be alive than a deer. I quite like the whole living gig. Being a deer is secondary.”
“But you are The Deer,” The Mouse almost whispered.
“Deer.” The Dog repeated.
“It’s not worth my life,” The Deer shook his head.
The Mouse twitched their nose. The forest was overwrought with bones and skeletons of things that they could not give names to, too rotted to even recognize. Nests too big and too intricate to have been built by any of the species of the forest. “Everything dies,” The Mouse said, in a far steadier voice. “That is the way of things, we can’t help it. We will all die and be forgotten and something else will build a home over our graves. But I can be a Mouse and you can be a Deer while we are still alive. This is all we have, it is our lives.”