Scavenging School

Right after the sun had set, there was movement on the fallen leaves sprinkled across the ground. Flashing through the grass was a young field mouse, about two weeks old, already past his childhood and into adolescence. His fur reflected a brunette shade, mingled with the golden light from the sun. Suddenly he stopped, sniffed around, and wandered off in confusion. Somewhere behind him sounded another of his kind.

“Musion, don’t get too excited for it yet. You’ll soon be killed by a predator.”

“Mother,” replied Musion, “I’m old enough for this. You have got to believe me when I say that I can fend for myself.”

“All right, rest assured. Go on, I’ll keep watch from here.”

Musion scanned the area around him. From a blackbird’s view, he seemed like a miniscule, lost traveler low on food and water. Musion stood cautiously, again sniffing the air for any smells of food, but he could smell nothing. “Perhaps,” he thought, “there’s no food around here.” He moved forward and sniffed, then to the sides, and turned his body a full circle; still, he could detect no food. He ventured farther; each time he passed through a tussock of grass was another mystery‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—would there be seeds, nuts, grains, or fruits for him to consume? Desperate, Musion turned toward his mother for help, but he stopped himself midway: he did not want her to regard him with such pity and dishonor. However, he needed not think anymore, for his mother was already next to him.

“Musion, I think something’s wrong with you,” she said, then turned away from him, presumably toward their nest. “Honey, come and see your son! He doesn’t even know the differences between grass and seeds.”

“I know, Mother!” said Musion. “Grass is tall and seeds are round‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—”

“It’s all about the smell, darling. You can’t forage if you’ve got no sense of smell.”

“What is it, Legar?” said another mouse in a deep voice.

“You see, Felderth,” replied Legar, “our son doesn’t know how to fend for himself. I’m afraid he might not survive in the wild when he reaches maturity.”

“Oh, right. We haven’t much time now.” Felderth turned toward Musion and said, “All right, son. Time for a lesson.”

“No!” replied Musion. “Let me do this myself. I’m old enough for this. If you don’t let me figure it out on my own, how am I supposed to live independently?”

“You’re right, but‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—”

“I’m not going to let you teach me anything, Father. I must discover the way all by myself. I demand that you both give me some alone time now. I’ve just started my day.”

“Darling,” said Legar, “you must be tired and hungry. Here, I’ll fetch you something to eat.”

In a moment Legar was gone, searching around them for food.

“You stay here,” said Felderth, and he vanished behind his mate as well.

A while later, after the sun was far beneath the horizon and the sky had turned dark, Felderth and Legar returned, bringing wildflower seeds with them. But all they could see was a vacant field, the grass barely perceptible, were it not for their night vision. The smell clearly indicated Musion’s presence just a few moments before: he had not listened to Felderth’s command. Panicked and hysterical, the mother went into a wild, stressful state.

“Oh, oh, our son is lost! He’s nowhere to be seen, or smelled. I knew he would be caught by a predator! This was our last hope in the litter! Didn’t I tell you to keep an eye on him? Oh, this shall be the last day of my life as well. I can’t bear such a burden any longer! Oh, Felderth, hold me‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—hold me quick! I’m about to pass out.”

“Stop making a fuss over this,” said Felderth. “You’re a grown-up, not a child anymore.”

Legar fell to the ground with a flop, her mate standing aside, watching passively. From behind them the grass rustled, but there was no wind.

“Felderth! Why did you let me fall? You’re so inadequate! You‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—”

Legar stopped dead in her tracks. Right before her stood Musion, nibbling on a tiny nut he had found. Felderth, who was facing his mate, could not see what was behind him.

“Oh, my Musion!” cried Legar, plunging toward him in an embrace, barely avoiding Felderth.

“What are the two of you doing here?” replied Musion. “I wasn’t gone that long, was I?”

“Yes, you were. You got me all worried! Now, as I was saying, you must be really hungry, so I’ve got you all your favorite foods‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—Felderth, help me with this!‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—I hope you will‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—”

“I will not accept your help!”

Musion stormed away, leaving his parents in the forlorn night.

The next morning, Musion returned home. The family nest was made of purely switchgrass blades, twisted and interwoven to contain their body warmth. Musion went to his usual spot, lay down, and let out a yawn. But before he could fall asleep, Legar interrupted him from outside.

“Darling,” she said, then entered the nest and settled beside him. “Since you don’t want our help, I thought maybe you would like someone else’s.”

“And that is?”

“We’ve enrolled you in a scavenging school. Sounds fun, right? You’ll meet new friends, learn lots of useful techniques‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—”

“Mother! Said I not that I’m reaching maturity? It’s only seven more moonrises from now. I’m too old to study in a school.”

“You’re going, darling, and that’s final. Get a good day’s rest and prepare for tonight. This is for your own good.”

Legar had said it so softly that Musion felt guilty for getting mad at her. Perhaps the school would not be as nasty as he had thought. Perhaps the teachers would be kinder than his parents here. With those fantasies in mind, he went to sleep‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—half intrigued, half resentful.

#

The sun went down at last. Musion woke up, and after much persuasion from his parents, he agreed to at least come to see the school. Felderth had said it was not far from home, but Legar insisted that the path was dangerous and demanded that Musion stay right in front of her at all times, while Felderth would lead the way. Musion found it to be exasperating, for he was reaching maturity and still his mother would not acknowledge it in the slightest. There was no need for that, as Musion thought, but there was no use in arguing with her. He kept silent and, rather begrudgingly, went on with their journey to the scavenging school.

The school was run by a family of five American Wirehairs‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—two of whom were the parents, and the rest were their children. They looked almost identical‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—from their chests all the way to their bellies and feet, it was as white as pure snow; their heads bore either gray or tan, with indistinct vertical black stripes. The distinguishing feature was the pattern on their backs: a mixture of dark gray and shades of sand‍. Any variation in the color proportions and distribution would set one cat apart from the others. But for Musion, it was enough to know the larger two were the parents and the smaller, and more childish, three were the young ones.

Accompanied by his parents, Musion arrived at the school. It was a storage house, made of wood planks stacked atop one another, with a triangular tile roof above. There was a door on one side and windows on the other three, but no doubt they were all locked. Musion would not have been able to discern the house if it were not for a faint lightbulb glowing right over the front door. From a distance, he spotted it.

“Is this the school that you were talking about?” he said.

“Yes, darling,” replied Legar. “But worry not. I’ve met other parents here who have also enrolled their children in this school. Today’s the first day, and everyone’s excited for it! You should be excited as well, my little boy.”

“But this is a man’s place!”

“It was abandoned recently,” said Felderth, “that’s why it still looks new. Rest assured‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—the humans won’t return.”

“That’s good and all, but how would one expect to enter?”

“Come around this corner.”

As they approached the house, there were squeaking sounds from a horde of young mice. The closer they got, the more words they could make out from the commotion, and as Musion turned the corner he saw all the other field mice his age waiting in front of the house, without their parents. Suddenly, Legar pushed him forward into the crowd and waved him goodbye, then pulled her mate out of sight. Musion had no way out, for everyone was blocking his path, and there were nearly a hundred of them. “A hundred for a single class!” he thought. “I ought to make some friends tonight, lest I‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—”

“Hello!” said a mouse, about three days older than him. “Are you new here? Oh, you look so young.”

“Thanks‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—er‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—my name’s Musion. You seem to have some experience with this place.”

“The name’s Rattle. And I have heard all there is to know about this school. The first, and most important one‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—are you sure you want to hear it? It can be quite scary, especially for someone young like you.”

Musion stayed silent before speaking. “Sure,” he said, “go on, Rattle.”

“The first, and most important‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—it’s run by a family of cats.”

Instantly, all the mice around him gasped and stared. There were cries of “What have you just said?” and “I don’t want to die!”

“Calm down,” said Rattle. “These cats are different. They’ve promised they won’t attack us ever. They’re here to teach us to scavenge for food, remember?”

The crowd believed him and died down. Another mouse broke from the pack and ran toward Rattle. This one was a female, and Musion figured she must have been a day younger than him.

“You’re always so knowledgeable, Rattle,” she said. “I’m starting to like you. Who’s this new pound of mud, anyway?”

“Don’t talk to him that way!” snapped Rattle. “He’s my new friend. Say hello to Musion. Musion, this is Scrappa.”

Before Musion could say anything, Scrappa interjected, “Oh, I’m so sorry about that. If he’s your friend, you’re mine too.”

“About that,” started Musion before he was cut off, “I think‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—”

“You know everything about this school, is that right?” said a much younger mouse to Rattle, about five days younger than Musion. “You know when we’ll start? For I’m getting itchy here.”

“Yes, I know,” replied Rattle. “It starts after the sun dips below the horizon, which is about now.”

They waited and waited, staring intently at the sun, eager to begin their first day at school. The sun descended slowly, and they all anticipated patiently. The chatter subsided as the ground swallowed the last sliver of light. This reminded Musion, and he looked for the entrance, which was unobtrusive at night, even with the lightbulb’s help. At last he noticed a wide opening on the wall that he had missed, and from inside the shed came the sounds of cans falling, boxes bumping, and cat meows. All the attendants tensed up, but they remembered what Rattle had said: that these cats were not there to devour them, and so they calmed themselves just before the Wirehair family showed up. First came the head of the family, the father, followed by his mate closely behind. A moment later, the three siblings exited the house, scuffling with one another for position. As the parents greeted the mice, the siblings stopped fighting at once.

“Welcome to our scavenging school!” said the father. “My name is Kaztor, and with me is my mate Kaztett. Should I introduce you to our children, as well? Jasmine, the oldest brother, who you can see is trying very hard to keep his dignity when the other two keep bothering him. Nyfella, the sister, who moves with steps lighter than yours‍, which is why she’ll be the perfect model in our class for how to move. And lastly, we have Prath, the youngest brother, and he’s still fighting to get to the front. What a shame! Anyway, their personalities can sometimes be quirky, but you’ll soon get used to them. And don’t worry, even though we’re cats and you all are mice, we don’t eat you. We have plenty of food in the shed.”

Kaztett, the mother, upon seeing her young ones fight again, whispered lightly, “Children, quit it! Everyone’s watching us.”

“I don’t feel so good about this,” said Musion quietly to his newly-made friends. “They may be trying to hide something from us.”

“Oh, you’re thinking too much,” replied Rattle.

“He’s right, Musion,” interposed Scrappa.

“Wait, his name’s Musion?” said the youngest mouse.

“Yes,” Musion answered, “what’s yours?”

“Therenti. Nice meeting you.”

Musion was about to speak when Kaztor’s voice filled the air again.

“With that being said,” he said, “shall we begin our first lesson now?”

There was not even a pause before all the attendants cheered, full of enthusiasm for the school. Only Rattle, who was too old for this, and Musion, who could not stop disliking the Wirehair family, did not cheer and merely watched the others. They began entering the building, led by the cats. Therenti sprinted toward the entrance, scrambling to squeeze through, followed by Scrappa, whose excitement was no less than his. The other two decided to wait a few moments before going in.

Inside the shed, it was dim, lit only by a single light on the ceiling. Everywhere Musion found metallic shelves holding food cans, cardboard boxes, carpenter’s tools, and electrical wires. The sight alone was enough to unsettle him, let alone spending a night with the Wirehair family. Composing himself, Musion focused on walking onward, and that was when he had a question for the cats.

“Kaztor, sir,” he spoke up, “why aren’t you five asleep by now? To my knowledge, cats aren’t nocturnal in the slightest.”

“Oh, no, no,” replied Kaztor. “We’re just working extra hours at night here. You won’t have to stay long, because the art of scavenging can be taught in merely a few days.”

“Did you hear what he said?” said Musion to Rattle. “They’re definitely up to something.”

“They’re not. Don’t think about it.”

“Hurry up, you two snails!” Scrappa called out from the front.

“We’re coming!” replied Rattle. “Musion, let’s move.”

Shortly after, everyone gathered in an open space inside the shed. Kaztor went on to lecture the mice and give them instructions, while Kaztett and the three siblings provided them with entertainment by miming the actions. It was fascinating to watch and listen to the lesson, especially for the younger ones. Musion fell for it, too, and soon he became captivated by the dynamics of the Wirehair family‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—perhaps, he thought, they would keep their word and leave the mice alone. He could only hope for the best.

“That’d be everything,” said Kaztor suddenly. “Now, let’s practice, shall we? All of you, explore this place. You needn’t search for food‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—merely exploration will do. Take all the time you need. And one more thing: the men left a few traps scattered around the shed, so stay clear of them. Should you run into one, we’re here to help. Let the fun begin!”

The immersion was broken, and Musion no longer felt respect for the American Wirehairs. There was no way he would fall for their trap again‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—he had to be cautious at all times, and even more so when no one was paying attention to their safety. He reunited with Rattle, and there he learned Scrappa and Therenti had already gone away. Rattle suggested a joint venture between the two of them, and, having no other choices, Musion reluctantly agreed. They scrambled across the floor, climbed up to the shelves, leaped between abandoned books covered in dust, and wound their way through mazes of wires. Musion and Rattle had a good time together, laughing and messing around with each other, and occasionally they would pass the cats and the traps, which always sent both of them into a frenzy, only to calm down a few moments later. The more they traveled, however, the more mice they found confined inside the traps, including their friends Scrappa and Therenti, until Kaztor called everyone back to the open space. There, only Musion and Rattle remained.

”Where are the others?” said Kaztett upon their arrival. “Where are your friends?”

“I think,” said Jasmine, the oldest brother, suddenly, “I think they’re all in the traps.”

“Or maybe,” inserted Nyfella, the sister, “they’ve all gone outside because they were afraid of us?”

“I wanted to play with them,” Prath, the youngest brother, spoke up. “It was fun playing with them. Now they’ve all disappeared.”

“Er‍‍‍‍‍‍—” interjected Rattle, “I believe they’re all in the traps right now. Would you please‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—”

“Oh, right,” said Kaztor. “I’ll do it.”

While he was gone, the rest could hear contraptions going off, followed by screams from the mice‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—mostly high-pitched‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—but it was unclear whether they screamed out of fear or joy. After some time Kaztor returned with the entire horde of mice accompanying him like microscopic soldiers protecting their leader. Out of the mice, Scrappa and Therenti sprinted toward their two friends.

“Rattle, Musion!” shouted Scrappa. “It’s good to see you again! I was trapped there for hours‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—hours, that’s what I’ll say‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—with hundreds of others like me, and I couldn’t find Therenti anywhere. That was until I looked at the trap next to me and found him there. It was like magic! We conversed to pass the time, from one side to the other, until this cat‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—whatever his name is‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—came and freed us. He ought to be trusted.”

“Rattle,” said Musion, “I still don’t think staying in this school is a good idea. Perhaps the cats left the traps here by themselves?”

“No,” replied Rattle. “They said the men had done it.”

“So why didn’t they clean up before letting us in?”

“Well, my best estimation is that they want to simulate the real, brutal nature as closely as possible. Still, no one went missing, right?”

“Right, I can only hope so.”

In the early morning, when the sky was still dark, they were dismissed from class, and indeed none of the mice was missing. They all went home in a scurry, promising to return the next day. Musion appeared to be cheerful, but he knew too well he would try everything to escape the Wirehair family, for they haunted his thoughts. Anxiety pervaded his actions, but he tried to conceal them all lest anyone grow concerned for him. In a dash he was back at his nest.

“How was school today, darling?” said Legar. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“No, I don’t want to be there for another moment! Mother, please‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—I implore you‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—release me from this misery and let me leave that school.”

“You’ll leave it when you’re mature anyway, which is only six moonrises from now. Stop whining like a baby and prove that you can be independent. Did something go wrong today?”

Musion thought about it for a while. Perhaps nothing had gone wrong, and he was merely overthinking. Perhaps it was his prejudice against the Wirehair family that caused him to despise them so much. At length, he said, “No, not exactly.”

“You see? There’s nothing to worry about. You only need to get through this for a short time, and then you’ll have your own life as you wish. Is that all right?”

“That sounds fine to me.”

Musion could only hope no one would go missing in the lessons to come.

#

When night came, Musion discovered that the lesson would take place outside‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—with potential predators lurking all around. The cats reassured them that they would be protecting them during their expedition. “Today is all about practice,” said Kaztor when they were outside the shed, lit by the flickering lightbulb above the front door. Nearby, a river rolled down the gentle hill, wide enough to scare the young mice and prevent them from wandering into danger. “Begin!” said Kaztor, without giving them any new instructions. It would be purely practice, as he had said.

It was clear that there were no traps in the wild, but predators would be roaming over the area, and the only protection the mice had was from the Wirehair family‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—if they would keep their word at all. Musion refused to go anywhere ten yards further from their starting point, so his friends left him hesitantly, promising to return soon‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—except not all of them did. When Kaztor called everyone back, only Scrappa and Therenti appeared. Rattle, apparently, was nowhere to be found.

Soon two other friend groups shouted out that they each had lost one of their members. This sent the crowd into disorder, and Kaztor and Kaztett took a while to calm them down. It was at this moment that Musion realized the three siblings must have retreated to the shed earlier.

Back at home, Musion decided to confront Legar about the problem.

“Mother,” he said, “I request that you let me abandon this school once and for all, for what I’ve seen today. My friend Rattle and two other mice I don’t know went missing. That can only show one thing: this school is dangerous! The cats vowed to protect us, yet it didn’t happen the way it should have. I demand that you let me out of this school at this instant! I can bear this no longer.”

“Darling,” replied Legar, “you’re just overreacting. Oh, my poor child, you’ve gone through so much. Perhaps the loss of your friend has been overwhelming your emotions. Are you sick, my child?”

This only made Musion resent his mother even more. Why was she not listening when he had experienced the situation firsthand? What was she to judge him, that he was sick, a physician? But there would be no use talking to her now; she never seemed to listen. With a grudge, he dismissed the matter and went to the nest.

The moon rose for another time. Musion was back at the shed for another lesson‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—it seemed that the cats would alternate indoor classes and outdoor practices. This time, having already explored the area, they had to find food, however little or much. As it had been before, Kaztor lectured as the other cats provided entertainment, but Musion could not fall for it anymore; he tried to detect any unusual activities in their actions but did not find anything deplorable. “Since the food is limited,” said Kaztor, “this will be a first-come, first-served approach. You’re allowed to share, but no fighting is permitted. Does everyone understand me?” And with that, the mice went into a hysteria, thrilled to finally be able to rummage for themselves.

With only Scrappa and Therenti remaining, Musion was forced to go with them, but he refused to move once he spotted the nearest food source: a cluster of almonds. The other two soon grew annoyed with him, and so they left him behind, promising once more that they would return shortly. This reminded Musion of the previous day, and despite his best effort to stop them, it was all in vain‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—they had already vanished into the dark places of the storage room.

Musion stood there alone, each second getting more and more restless by the silence around him. Suddenly, he heard a strange noise around a corner, but could not identify it clearly‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—was it an object falling, food being swallowed, or a muffled scream, or all at once? Intrigued, Musion came to investigate. He approached the corner and, not taking his eyes away from it, saw a vast, indistinct shadow gliding across the floor. Was there another creature in the shed? What was it doing there right at that moment? Stepping slowly, Musion turned the corner and saw Prath licking his paws with no mice around. During his bewilderment, Kaztor called everyone back to the open space. Musion waited for his friends, and after a while, only Therenti came back.

Many others had also gone missing. The friend groups had to merge because there were too few left in each‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—some only had one remaining member, who each was lamenting their friends’ disappearance, but quickly moved on. In total, no more than twelve mice remained in the building.

Morning came, and Musion was back at his nest. In front of him was Legar, and to his right sat Felderth. The two parents listened to their son attentively.

“Mother,” he said, “today one of my friends went missing again. This can’t keep happening! Soon my only standing friend will leave me, and it’ll be my turn sooner or later! I can’t stay there anymore. I saw Prath the youngest cat licking his paws while there was no one around, and when we regathered Scrappa my friend was missing. Poor little thing, she was‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—oh, it’s too terrifying: I can’t say it aloud! I’m confident that I know the reason for her vanishing. But, dear the Flower of Mother Nature, I’m unable to articulate it. It’s haunting me in my thoughts! I demand right at this instant that you let me stay away from that school once and for all!”

Legar was perplexed, and so was Felderth. The two eyed each other before Legar spoke.

“Darling,” she said, “you’re just hallucinating. I think you’ve caught a disease. Are you feeling ill anywhere, son? No, I won’t let you answer, for you will hide it from me. We’re going to see a doctor. Honey! Fetch a doctor for our son‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—a good and reputable one. Tell him to arrive immediately: it’s an emergency!”

Just before dawn, Felderth returned with a doctor‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—his only difference from a human clinician being the lack of medical equipment. The doctor went inside the nest and greeted Musion, who stayed silent. Although the doctor inquired about his problem, Musion insisted he was fine‍ and that everyone was misunderstanding him‍, so a formal diagnosis was necessary. They examined the food he ate, his droppings, his breath, his eyesight, and still found nothing abnormal. The doctor concluded Musion was merely tired and prescribed no special diet, only instructing him to rest and not worry about trifles. He left as the sun began to rise, and that morning Musion could not sleep.

#

“This is going to be the last time I’m here,” Musion thought as he entered the field just outside the shed. That day was another practice day according to the cats, and now the mice had to forage in the wild without being preyed on. Searching for food was the goal, and despite the small population of mice, they were as excited as on the first day they had attended the school. There was no teaching‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—no lecture on evading predators: only a few lines of instructions from Kaztor on what they should do. “Begin!” said Kaztor. Promptly the mice scattered into the dark forest; even Therenti did not wait for Musion to catch up. Musion decided not to engage in the practice and stayed alone in one place.

Kaztett, spotting him standing motionless, approached him.

“Aren’t you a little shy mouse?” she said. “Why don’t you come join your friends? Go explore the area and forage for yourself. You must be really hungry!”

“Thanks, I‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—”

“You mustn’t overthink it. Step forward, sniff the air for any signs of food, and stay away from danger. You can do it, come on!”

”Er‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—thank you.”

Musion unwillingly stepped forward along the riverbank. When he felt Kaztett had left him, he called out for Therenti, his only friend left.

“Therenti! Oh, Therenti, where are you? Answer my call, so I can know where you are and we can be together again. Therenti, respond!”

Suddenly there was a rustle in a tussock of grass, right before where Musion was standing. Transfixed, he focused on what he could hear. There was a squeak, that high-pitched one of a mouse, then a scream, suppressed as if in a helpless fight, and then silence. It sounded like Therenti.

“Therenti,” Musion called out, “is that you? Therenti, answer me!”

But there was no answer. Feeling ominous, Musion stepped closer and closer toward the tussock of grass, ready to reveal it at any moment. Each step closer accelerated his heartbeat even more. Finally, he paused right in front of the scene, blocked by only the grass he was gripping. With a swift and certain maneuver, he pushed the grass away, and gasped.

Before him lay Jasmine, the oldest brother, with a mouse in his mouth, the tail dangling just outside. This was definitely Therenti‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—there was no mistake of it. The cat was enjoying the taste of the lifeless body, slurping the unfortunate mouse and swallowing it whole. Musion stood there petrified, having watched the whole thing. This was what he had feared and warned everyone about, but no one listened‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—not a single one: they were all enthusiastic about their lives, only to have them cut off so suddenly and tragically. The Wirehairs soon noticed him and chased him down, but, not wanting to attract attention, they ignored him as he rounded a corner. He ran home as fast as his legs could carry him.

It was just before midnight when Musion came home.⁠

“Darling,” said Legar, “why are you home so early? Aren’t you supposed to be at the⁠‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—”

“No! I will never be back there again! I’ve had enough of this, no matter if you listen to me or not. I‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—I saw what happened. I saw it with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears, and felt it with my own body! I knew what happened. There’s no denying it now. My last and only friend remaining‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—Therenti, he‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—he went missing again! Oh, dear the Flower’s Blossom of Mother Nature, there’s no way‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—it will never leave my memory. I heard his voice. ⁠⁠I saw him! The poor Therenti inside‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—the‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—the‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—you know what that is: the very creature you always trusted‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—and you, too, Father‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—and everyone else in the class and all their parents and their parents’ mates. I tell you now, I saw Therenti‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—inside‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—it was the cat!”

Legar and Felderth stayed quiet for a while, trying to comprehend what they had just heard. At length Legar spoke.

“I think,” she said, “that perhaps you are insane. Had you a good morning’s rest today?”

“No! I know what I’m saying, and if you don’t believe me, you will all perish! Perish from this world, you must‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍—just like my previous brothers and sisters whom you’ve been telling me about. You’ll be in great jeopardy! You’ll endure the Thorn of Mother Nature, her Torrent and the Hailstone. Your eyesight will be permanently set at nig`ht, and your limbs will prove insentient. I’m mature now. I have full control over my life. I’m under no obligation to follow your commands when your wits are isolated from your heart! Do you understand now what I’m saying? I will leave the nest, forever, and there’s space for companionship if you like. Goodbye, Mother and Father, you’ve done your best, but I wish you would do better.”

Outside, it began to rain. There was no reason to care about it now, for the only thing on Musion’s mind was to get as far away from there as possible, and never to meet the Wirehair family again. As he ventured into the dark forest, it was unclear whether the moisture on his face came from the rain or from the tears streaming down his cheeks.