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Bitterbrush watched with squinted eyes as that strange mouse scurried around outside. She was absolutely ridiculous, and Bitter had never seen another mouse remotely like her.
Mice had coats of gray or brown or gray-brown, with a white underbelly. This mouse was white all over, aside from only her ears and nose and paws, which were a shiny black. She would be caught soon, standing out as she did, especially with the way she was moving. She kept running along a little, then stopping to sniff every single thing in her path like she had never seen a plant or a stick or a post before, not even bothering for cover.
Would it be better, if the strange, stupid mouse were the one taken up by an owl or hawk or snake or fox? It was one more meal that wasn’t herself. Then again, it was one more meal for the owl or hawk or snake or fox. One more well-fed monster with the energy to hunt her down.
No, it would be better if the strange mouse was protected after all. And she really was like nothing Bitterbrush had ever seen before. So maybe she was a little curious, too.
Bitterbrush chirped to the strange one, and even so far away, that caught her attention. She made a beeline right for her, still not trying at all to stick to cover. It was as though she’d never been outside before.
“What are you doing?” Bitter asked as soon as the strange mouse was firmly in her hovel. “You’re going to get yourself eaten out there, acting like you act, looking like you look.”
“Eat me?” she squeaked. “Who on earth would do that?”
“Almost anything!” Bitterbrush could hardly believe her ears. “Have you never been outside before?”
The strange mouse drooped down a little, looking smaller than she really was. “I haven’t.”
“You’re from in there?” Bitterbrush nodded to the house. She never went in there: the only building she ever went inside was the barn. There were different dangers in the house, different sorts of predators she knew less of. Better not to risk it.
But the strange mouse tutted no. “A different house. I was taken care of by a young human. She calls me Princess Minnie. But one day my human left and didn’t come back, and the bigger humans took me away and left me here.”
Princess Minnie shuffled further into the hovel, brushing against the nest. “I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. I want to go home!”
She was more helpless than a pup, in some ways. A pup needed to be cared for, but it would grow up and learn to fend for itself and leave the nest. Princess Minnie couldn’t do that. Even if she were taught, she would always be too easy prey.
There were times Bitterbrush wished to go home. It was hard to remember, it was so many and many and many months ago, more than three. It was before both of her litters were born and grew up and left themselves. But there was a time when she was a pup, when she didn’t have to worry about surviving, finding food, protecting her young. She simply existed in a warm pile with her siblings, and that was all.
And it was getting colder. And there was no one to pile with now, not with the pups grown.
“You can stay here,” Bitterbrush offered. “You stay inside like you’re used to. There is plenty of food. If we ever run low, you will have to leave, but for now you can stay. And when I have my next litter, you can watch the pups while I gather food. It will be good for us both.”
“Really? Oh, thank you, thank you!” Princess Minnie rubbed up against her, far too familiar far too quickly, but Bitterbrush found she didn’t mind. It was cute, in a way, like a courting male, but less annoying.
“Here. You can have some of my seeds and then we can cuddle,” Bitterbrush instructed. “This is your home now.”
Her very own strange mouse.
Bitterbrush watched with squinted eyes as that strange mouse scurried around outside. She was absolutely ridiculous, and Bitter had never seen another mouse remotely like her.
Mice had coats of gray or brown or gray-brown, with a white underbelly. This mouse was white all over, aside from only her ears and nose and paws, which were a shiny black. She would be caught soon, standing out as she did, especially with the way she was moving. She kept running along a little, then stopping to sniff every single thing in her path like she had never seen a plant or a stick or a post before, not even bothering for cover.
Would it be better, if the strange, stupid mouse were the one taken up by an owl or hawk or snake or fox? It was one more meal that wasn’t herself. Then again, it was one more meal for the owl or hawk or snake or fox. One more well-fed monster with the energy to hunt her down.
No, it would be better if the strange mouse was protected after all. And she really was like nothing Bitterbrush had ever seen before. So maybe she was a little curious, too.
Bitterbrush chirped to the strange one, and even so far away, that caught her attention. She made a beeline right for her, still not trying at all to stick to cover. It was as though she’d never been outside before.
“What are you doing?” Bitter asked as soon as the strange mouse was firmly in her hovel. “You’re going to get yourself eaten out there, acting like you act, looking like you look.”
“Eat me?” she squeaked. “Who on earth would do that?”
“Almost anything!” Bitterbrush could hardly believe her ears. “Have you never been outside before?”
The strange mouse drooped down a little, looking smaller than she really was. “I haven’t.”
“You’re from in there?” Bitterbrush nodded to the house. She never went in there: the only building she ever went inside was the barn. There were different dangers in the house, different sorts of predators she knew less of. Better not to risk it.
But the strange mouse tutted no. “A different house. I was taken care of by a young human. She calls me Princess Minnie. But one day my human left and didn’t come back, and the bigger humans took me away and left me here.”
Princess Minnie shuffled further into the hovel, brushing against the nest. “I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. I want to go home!”
She was more helpless than a pup, in some ways. A pup needed to be cared for, but it would grow up and learn to fend for itself and leave the nest. Princess Minnie couldn’t do that. Even if she were taught, she would always be too easy prey.
There were times Bitterbrush wished to go home. It was hard to remember, it was so many and many and many months ago, more than three. It was before both of her litters were born and grew up and left themselves. But there was a time when she was a pup, when she didn’t have to worry about surviving, finding food, protecting her young. She simply existed in a warm pile with her siblings, and that was all.
And it was getting colder. And there was no one to pile with now, not with the pups grown.
“You can stay here,” Bitterbrush offered. “You stay inside like you’re used to. There is plenty of food. If we ever run low, you will have to leave, but for now you can stay. And when I have my next litter, you can watch the pups while I gather food. It will be good for us both.”
“Really? Oh, thank you, thank you!” Princess Minnie rubbed up against her, far too familiar far too quickly, but Bitterbrush found she didn’t mind. It was cute, in a way, like a courting male, but less annoying.
“Here. You can have some of my seeds and then we can cuddle,” Bitterbrush instructed. “This is your home now.”
Her very own strange mouse.