My ventures outside of the guild.

[Sireez]

Its been a looooong while since I last posted in this guild. Lots of things had happened since I had last been here. I have been in creative writing class writing up a story hugely inspired by the Redwall series. Also I have picked up and started readig my second book--Mattimeo. Its truely amazing and Brian Jaques is one of my favorite authors. As a token of my apologies I shall post my story which I plan on continuing and later try to publish as my teacher says I very well could. Without further ado I do present to you the Tales of Havenwood . . .

Marylinn gets captured

Within the boundaries of the capacious kingdom of Stonewell, near the king’s castles, lies the Stonewell Monastery, a large convent part of the mice’s Roman Catholic Church. At the center of the compound, lies the church, beautifully constructed from the finest limestone collected by the first mice of Stonewell. Located at the northern end of the house of worship, the high altar where the father of the abbey delivers his service to those who inhabit the monastery. To the western side of the semicircle where the altar comfortably sits, an aperture opens to the scriptorium which lies beneath the comprehensive library. On the opposite side of the holy space, another egress conveys the sacristy through which the monks access the sacramental bake house. Fourteen columns in all, two rows of seven on each side, line the building; provide support to the arches, which serve as the ribbing to the ceiling. A series of sixteen oak benches, crafted in the workshop of the compound, furnish the interior in two rows of eight. Enormous stained-glass windows fill the east and west walls refracting light into different hues, illuminating the spacious church. To the rear end another, smaller altar grabs the attention of those exiting through the archways located on either side leading into the extravagant foyer of the three towers. The east, west, and south towers house various records and accounts of the Monastery, which the monks believed did not belong in the library. Guest quarters reside along the western wall of the facility. Monks of low rank use these when visiting. A separate edifice, reserved for guest monks of superior rank, stands nearby; the structure includes a kitchen and bathhouse. Just north of the special quarters stands the Catholic school of the convent accompanied by yet another building set aside for the school masters to rest. Further north past the garden, resides the house for blood-letting intended for use in the infirmary nearby. Two buildings alone signify the northwestern most point of the abbey, the main Bathhouse and kitchen for the infirmary and house of novices. Two small chapels sit back to back eastward from the kitchen. Cloisters sit on both sides of them, each surrounded by a single structure enclosing the courtyards. The infirmary occupies the west buildings which include a refectory, calefactory, dormitory, master's room, and chambers. An identical edifice contrives the house of novices. Many more buildings populate the Stonewell Monastery still.

Sister Abigail, a nun who had already weathered the multitude of trials accompanied with entering the religious order of the Catholic Church and taken her solemn vows, sauntered through the eastern courtyard in the invigorating air of the early late-spring morning. Others scattered throughout the cloister, greeting each other before tending to their duties of the day. Fresh dew rested on the vibrant green grass the gardeners so proudly tended to. Summer crept upon the abbey slowly, but definitely, soon they would have their paws full with the harvest.

“Good morning Marylinn.” The wood mouse accosted her friend. She had her nose buried in the word, intensely studying the scripture. Marylinn had not yet become a full fledged nun. Taking her temporary vows three and a half years ago, she now petitioned to establish her perpetual profession.

“Hello, Sister Abigail,” she squeaked after a moment and quickly shut her bible. The deer mouse rose to her feet, the grass crinkled under light weight as she stood like loose paper, Marylinn folded her arms, impelling the little black book lightly into her bosom. “I’m just studying the good word of the lord.” A nervous smile found its way through her uneasiness. The thoughts of the petition plagued her already heavy mind causing her to feel an added sense of anxiety to her insecurity.

Marylinn stood at a height of three inches including her large round ears. Her long frivolous tail extended another three inches out from beneath her habit. Maple brown fur covered her body like a blanket, too small for its intended use, revealing her off-white underside that extended from the bottom of her mouth down to the base of her tail, cloaking her paws in the soft white cloud. Small drops of honey she called eyes mixed with the sweet complexion of her maple fur, producing a delightful hue. They sat neatly behind a pair of round black rimmed glasses. The spectacles seemed to complement her traditional habit quite nicely. Sleepless nights disrupted Marylinn’s appearance. She looked weary almost empty, hollow like the shell of a once living turtle.

“You look troubled,” Abigail laid a hand to rest on her shoulder. Marylinn nodded as she pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Care to talk about it?”

“Well,” she trailed off in search for the words. Her entrance into the order did not torment her alone. Marylinn had an apprehensive feeling that something unfortunate would soon happy to her. “My petition to profess my permanent vows I’m wondering if they will approve.” She quickly answered her friend now biting her lower lip hoping she would accept it.

“Of course they will, they may be slow but the masters will accept you.” Abigail swiftly laid her dear companion’s troubled thoughts to rest. “Now let us head over and get breakfast.” The two departed for the serving hall. Upon their accession to the refectory Abigail pointed out why this summer had great value. She explained that every four years the creatures of the Stonewell monastery take an extra day, the very one gained during the leap year, and celebrate the harvest of that year with a grand feast. A true sight to behold, many flock here from other churches to celebrate this grand occasion.

“Oh yes the last one I remember faintly,” Marylinn smiled “I was a different mouse back then much has changed.” They slipped through the main archway just as two monks walked out Brother Jonathan and Brother Nathan conversing about the large fish they caught for tonight’s supper. Light chatter flooded the room along with the light clatter of spoons and forks hitting bowls. The exquisite aroma of the fresh nut bread hung in the pleasantly tepid air, Marylinn and Abigail inhaled the scent and held it inside for as long as possible before letting it go, No other food pleased them more than newborn nut bread hot out of their mothers womb. A table at the front of the room held the morning’s sustenance. A various assortment of nuts nestled next to the precious nut bread followed by blue berries, and apple juice produced earlier the sunrise. The pair picked their food and sat down at the end of a table. Marylinn seated herself across from Abigail.

“I think you need some time to clear your little head.” Abigail openly suggested as she nibbled on her nut bread.

“Yes but we hardly ever have a free moment.” Marylinn replied with a frown.

“That’s why you should go with the other sisters outside of the convent, I’m sure they’ll let you go with them.”

“Well if you’re certain that will do me some good.”

“Positive.” Abigail smiled sweetly to her friend. Marylinn munched on her bread and ripped on the cold apple juice. She rarely went anywhere outside of the religious community that she knew so well. With her course of action decided, Marylinn finished up her breakfast and said her goodbyes to Abigail and the other nuns who had taken their seats next to them.

After a short walk from the refectory Marylinn met up with Sister Lucinda, an older mouse that many looked to for guidance, had gathered up the other nun’s to collect nuts for the midday meal. She happily accepted her request to join them on their hunt.

“Thank you, Sister Lucinda” Marylinn showed her gratitude with a small curtsey. She and three others accompanied Lucinda that morning. They all left through the north chapel out into the Havenwood, an immense and exuberant forest occupying much of the land north to the monastery. Among the trees, Maple counts for well over half of the mass expanse. They canvassed the area outside of the abbey for the delicious seeds with great luck. An abundance of them littered the shaded floor of the forest. The nicely woven basket Marylinn carried overflowed with the brown stones from which they would build their meals. She found an affable spot to sit down for a short rest. The deer mouse set her basket down before seating herself against the trunk of the maple tree. A cool breeze swept over through the brush, Marylinn wrapped herself within her habit, and slowly she drifted off to the land of dreams.

Marylinn awoke in a wooden cart with her hands tied together with rope. She searched, but could not find the place she fell asleep at. The cart rocked back and forth as it moved through the forest. A piece of clothe covered her mouth rendering her unable to speak. What about the others? She thought, but quickly found the answer to her question. Sister Lucinda along with the other three mice too sat tied and quieted by other pieces of cloth. Who had captured them? She thought with the answer staring her in the face.

Rats, the vermin of the forest. The loose band of thieves and rabble-rousers exasperate all who indwell within Havenwood. They alone tarnished the reputation of this land. The rats plundered the forest, hucksters have oftentimes fell victim to their nefarious schemes, and every creature lived in fear of them. The ornery, narcissistic, and vulgar Daniel Wicker commands the horde of rapscallions. He has an almost unnatural abundance of strength despite his size. Standing at the size of a mouse Daniel often looses his temper over the issue of height. He once killed his second in command for calling him a mouse. Dirty brown fur covers his body like an old carpet ready to be thrown out. A myriad of scars litter his body from head to toe, Blisters sheath his arms right up to the repugnant crooks of his paws, the rat’s battered tail, which matched his mangled ears, extends outward from body. One scar stands out among the rest like an oasis nestled in the desert; it spans the length of his spine from the base of his neck to the trunk of his dingy tail. There a serpent bit into Daniel’s back injecting poison into the site. The band of rats rushed their leader to the medicine squirrel of the forest and persuaded him to help. She had to cut open his back and introduce maggots to the wound to devour the decomposed tissue. The near death experience had not change Daniel in the slightest; he still remained the same spiteful rat.

The cart halted and now two rats, Scarab and Hedgy, unloaded Marylinn and the other frightened nuns like their loot. They forcefully led them into their cavern hideout on the north side of haven wood forest. Nothing more than a simple hole in a rock, their entrance easily eluded those in search of their. Marylinn took note of the beautiful scenery of the forest before descending into the maze below.

Unexpected news
Prison, a place sister Marylinn never thought she would ever find herself; a nun should never find herself within the dank confines of a cell, though now it did not matter. Her days as a sister belonging to the Catholic church of Stonewell had ceased. Captured like a rat, by rats of all creatures. She had spent a week wasting away in the small limestone chamber. The rats had carved out a cavity in the deepest part of the cavern. A wooden gate with iron hinges that the rats anchored into the cave wall. A large iron lock sealed her in with no hopes of escape. A thin sheet of water canvassed the floor of the caves adding to the cool humidity of the dark air. The far off noise of the liquid dripping down from the tall ceiling echoed through the grand subterranean area. The gloomy air of the limestone cave felt cold and thick, almost as if it had a weight to it. Marylinn sat in a patch of dried grass and maple leaves the oafish rats had crudely gathered and laid down as a stage for their lewd exploitation of the small deer mouse. In the week that passed since they captured her, the mouse had time to ponder her present situation.

“Why not just kill me like the others?” Marylinn interrogated the muggy air. Only the dripping noise of the mineral rich water answered her. Though the frail mouse did not want to admit it, she knew why they kept her alive; it made her sick to her stomach ‘Am I to live out the rest of my days as their slave?’
Marylinn sat in the limestone cell with her head buried in her folded arms covered by her damp, squalid habit. The rats had stretched and tore it when they had grabbed at her. Thoughts of them still troubled her even though the shrewd bandits had retired for the night. Marylinn wanted to distance herself from reality. As she began to lose herself in sleep, distant noises snapped her back to reality; however, the noises quickly ceased. She peered out into the darkness; the nervous deer mouse felt the presence of someone just outside the wooden door. Sifting through the black sand of the darkness, she found two rubies staring back at her. Her little heart skipped a beat and a chill ran up her spine from the tip of her tail. Marylinn’s honey brown eyes flooded with fearful tears. ‘Have they returned to do more vulgar acts on me?’ She thought as she bit down on her quivering bottom lip. Swallowing her fear, she consolidated what little bits of courage that dwelled within her.

“WH-who are y-you?” she inquired.

“My name is Sa’id Nassar,” a calm assuring voice answered her. “I have come to free you.” Marylinn let out a heavy sigh of relief though an uneasiness still hung inside her; she did not recognize the name. None other than the fabled hero of Havenwood forest, which surrounded the thieving rats’ cave, had come to liberate Marylinn from the cold prison, in which they kept her. His name buzzes through the terrace in the treetops of the tall trees that span the great area that Havenwood covers. The valiant Sa’id, an albino squirrel, has saved many throughout the provinces belonging to the squirrels. Pure snow white fur covers him from his small pointed ears down to the tip of his soft cloud-like tail. Bright blood red eyes accompany his seemingly flawless fur. On his right paw, he lost his middle finger from a past struggle with the rats’ leader. Sa’id strapped a leather casing to his forearm that holds a dagger which can be slid out in the place of the absent finger. The crafty squirrel created it to use as a dagger if he finds himself without any other means to defend himself. Three leather belts swathe around his waist holding many useful items. Amid these various items, a sword he has dubbed “The Moon’s Sliver”. A beautiful cutlass forged by his paws alone, crafted from iron and silver, in short, a curved longsword with a fuller cross-section. The hilt consisted of a silver chappe and cross-guard, a black grip, and a silver pommel with a single ruby embedded into it. He chose to encase the brilliant blade inside an ordinary and rather dull scabbard. A single strap, which he affixed to the left side of his belt, runs around his chest over his right shoulder giving support to the weighed down belts. A simple black, hooded garment with long sleeves along and two small shields that fit over his shoulders make up his attire. Though few have actually met Sa’id, they know when they have stumbled upon the hero of Havenwood.

“Are you able to walk on your own?” he inquired, piecing together the puzzling situation.

“Uh, yes,” She replied after a brief moment of thought, “Though I am very weak.” Marylinn struggled to her feet. Without a moment to spare, Sa’id went to work; the crackerjack of a squirrel picked the lock, loud clanking noises radiated out from the iron grip that held the wooden gate shut. Soon the lock dropped to the floor with a clang that echoed through the caverns. The squirrel pulled the gate open; it creaked sharply, cutting through the muggy air. Quickly, he rushed to the weak mouse imprisoned by the thieving rats; Sa’id caught her just as she fell, and he prevented her from hitting the ground.

“I’ve got you,” he assured Marylinn, “now let us make haste.” Sa’id turned around and knelt down. “Hop on my back.” She nodded and did as he instructed, wrapping her arms around the squirrel’s neck as he looped his arms around her legs. Standing at almost twice her size, carrying her would prove an easy task for him. After making sure he had her secure, Sa’id dashed off into the darkness with the weak mouse. He moved just as swiftly and silently as the wind blew through the treetops he called home. Many of the rats laid around in drunken slumber; this made his trip that much easier, and only the cavern walls witnessed his rescue. The two made it out into the cool twilight of the early summer morning, Marylinn fell asleep to the rhythmic motion of his pace, she had never before slept so peacefully.

Morning soon befell the Havenwood terrace; the golden rays of sunshine from the sunrise flooded the den where Marylinn rested. She lay upon a pallet that consisted of a sheet over rich, soft grass. A pillow held her little head, abating any discomfort she might have otherwise felt. The little deer mouse nestled under a blanket that kept the cold air of the tree-top dwelling at bay. Marylinn’s habit lay, neatly folded, to the right along with her glasses. She began to stir from her slumber, due to the growing luminosity of the late-spring morning. Her eyes opened slowly, the calm air illuminated as twilight became light, and she looked with surprise at her new surroundings.

Marylinn found herself lying in front of a fireplace within a lowered circular platform used as the den of the quaint home of a squirrel. The multi-level dwelling had a circular shape centered on the main branch which cleverly housed the hearth. Furniture encircled the heart of the abode, a chair, small table, and a sofa stood on a simple rug in the den. A kitchen, sleeping area, and small workshop surrounded the outer part of the home. Two apertures on either side of the structure served as an entrance and exit. The east led to the outdoor bathing platform and the west led out to a far-reaching branch where other trees could be accessed. As she observed the dwelling Marylinn couldn’t help, but meditate over how exactly she got to this place.

“Sleep well?” a voice startled the mouse out of her deep train of thought. Suddenly the answer slapped her in the face the red-eyed stranger from the night prior! Marylinn turned to see Sa’id enter from the west doorway with a sack.
“Oh, yes.” She returned, almost forgetting he asked a question. The deer mouse sat up on the pallet, wrapping the blanket around her for warmth. Sa’id set the sack down on the counter in his kitchen before turning to Marylinn.
“Ah ‘tis good to see your awake.” The albino squirrel voiced the equanimity he felt towards a job well done. “How about something to eat?” Sa’id culled a walnut from the tawny haversack. Turning around he grabbed a knife from the set that hung from his kitchen wall. Prying open the shell of the nut with relative ease, Sa’id fixed a bowl with bits of the walnut and a berry he stored in his pantry for such an occasion, Marylinn accepted the bowl when he brought the dish to her. The sustenance filled her not only physically, but emotionally. The food comforted her; she felt a sense of relief intricately instilled within the berry and bits of nut like the woven material of textile. However, a trickle of uncertainty ran through her mind in the midst of her blanket of security, an enigma, the drop of poison that tainted the stream. She finished the satisfying meal so graciously given to her and set the bowl down.

“Thank you.” Marylinn expressed her gratitude politely.

“You are quite welcome, miss.” Sa’id replied with a valiant smile.

“Why so happy?”

“Because, my dreams foretold of you,” he explained “One week ago I dreamt a deer mouse, such as yourself, was imprisoned by the likes of those rats. I knew I had to go and free her.”

“And so that…was…me, why?”

“I don’t know, but something has been set in motion.” On that note, Sa’id climbed up the center branch of his home into his loft on the second level. After a few moments he returned, the squirrel jumped down in front of Marylinn; in his paws, he held an old scholar’s dressings for her to wear. “That being said, I must take you to get your physical status checked. Who knows what they have done to you.”

“Well, alright.” She grasped the worn, white robe.

“You can clean yourself up out there.” Sa’id pointed to the back doorway. Marylinn nodded and padded off to cleanse herself after a moment of hesitation. She bowed slightly as a token of her gratitude. She stepped out onto the balcony crafted from maple wood. The lively green leaves of the tree curtained the octagonal platform used for bathing purposes, closing off one from the rest of reality, an escape in the midst of it all. A sweet serenity swirled around the cool stillness of the air like fish through a pond, Marylinn approached the short stool laid out next a large bucket, water from secreted from the leaf, which hung over the basin, trickled into it for use when bathing. The mouse set the clothes on the wood railing before seating herself. Peering into the bucket of pure liquid, she found a small sponge adrift in the calm little sea. With the soft tool, she rid herself not only of the dirt, but of something more. Marylinn cleansed herself both physically and emotionally; washing away her troubling thoughts, the mouse quieted her mind.

Rustling in the leaves disturbed her quiet meditation like a ripple through a pond when a single flower petal kisses the surface. Marylinn turned to see the cause, but only leaves peered back at her. With caution she whipped back around to resume washing herself, she jumped half out of her fur, falling off of the stool she sat own. An owl with feathers as white as fresh snow loomed over her like grey clouds overcastting the rolling hillside. His large, bright, yellow eyes glared at her with great intensity as if he peered into her very soul, reading her like a book.
“Who are you?” she asked faintly.

“I am, Nikolai.” He spoke with a calming voice. Marylinn relaxed somewhat.

“Well, why are you here?”

“I bear wisdom.” The rather large bird gave a great hoot as he spread his wings, bringing them back quickly. “Held within you is the key to this forest’s purification. Within you lie three.” His old black beak turned up into a grin. “I have waited many years for this to come, before I go take this.” With the wave of his massive wing he pulled a leather rucksack, encased within the bag a root, a scroll, and three coins.

“What are these for?” Marylinn inquired disbelieving what she saw. She looked inside of the bag and studied the objects.

“When the time comes you will know.” With that, the ghostly white owl turned and flew away. “We will meet again Marylinn.” Nikolai’s voice faded into the wind. The mouse stood, bewildered at what had just unfolded before her. She quickly finished washing and dressed herself. The old scholar’s robes seemed to fit her perfectly as if the clothes waited just for her, longing for their rightful owner. Scurrying inside with the newly obtained rucksack fastened across her, Marylinn told Sa’id about the old white owl. The squirrel explained that Nikolai belonged to the forest of Havenwood as its sage providing help and giving wisdom to those who inhabit the forest.

“Now let us be off.” He told her as he approached his aperture. The two scampered across the branch leaving his dwelling, the mid-morning sun showed the brilliance of Havenwood, a light breeze flowed through the treetops much like a swift moving river. The third tree they came to, Sa’id stopped and looked down. Holding out his paw he told Marylinn to hold on to him. Once she had a firm grip on the squirrel, he pulled out a dagger. Without a moment of hesitation, the brave Sa’id leapt down off the branch with Marylinn. He expeditiously stabbed the tree to slow their rapid descent, they landed nicely at the base of the tree, and a strange calmness hung in the air like clothes out to dry.

“This way.” The albino squirrel directed the mouse and the hurried to their destination like shadows fleeing from the light.

“Who are we going to see?” Marylinn catechized curiously.

“Edna Marie, a shrew, she is gifted in the art of medicine.”

“And she’ll see if I’m sick or not right.”

“Precisely.” Sa’id spoke of the widely known medicine shrew of the forest, Edna Marie. She lived by herself in the eastern part of the forest under an oak tree. The rather shrewd shrew indeed had a gift for the fine art of medicine, like a highly skilled artist wielding his brush. She had a wealth of knowledge referring to all topics of the matter. Within her home she amassed an enormous collection of books, filled with notes, recipes, and most important of all records of whom had visited her. The library lay on the bottom level of her dwelling along with her study where she developed new recipes for cures. Nestled above, her kitchen and a place where her many patients could rest. Though Edna rather acted rudely toward others with a sort of outward honesty to everyone’s character, all held a deep respect for her, even Daniel Wicker, the harsh ruler of the thieving rats held her in a high place. However, Edna did not stand without fault, at least to most anyway; she helped anyone who came by, with much reluctance at that. No matter their past, no matter their state of being, no matter their social class, no matter their intentions she helped anyone and everyone.

Sa’id knocked on Edna’s small wooden door. Enough time elapsed before she answered for a family of ducks to pass by.

“Aye, who be makin’ all tha’ racket on me door?” The rather short shrew peered up at Marylinn through large round glasses. Her pale grey fur had a messy appearance that seemed to match her rather dull dress coupled with a simple shawl like an ordinary tea set with some wear and tear, giving it character. Edna then saw Sa’id, her eyes flickered with the sudden remembrance of his face and that night he came to her. The shrew had to amputate his right middle finger; all of her skill and expertise could not save his whole hand.

“Oh, it’s you,” she paused to sniff Marylinn, “ah, and who be this?”

“I-I’m Marylinn, Miss Edna.” The mouse answered, with a nervousness mingled in with the words. Her harsh tone could shake anyone to the core.

“I bring her for you to check; she had been captured by the rats recently.”

“For a price maybe.”

“Oh I think I might have something.” Marylinn shot back as she dug through the rucksack she carried. She pulled out the three gold coins and the root fell out as a result of her quick movement. Edna’s eyes ignited like lightning igniting a single tree on a prairie. The root from a mint-flower rare to the forest only grew in the northwestern corner at the edge of the forest bordering the marshlands.
“Ah yes jus’ the ingredient I’ve been lookin’ fer.” Edna bent over and picked up the rare root; examining the stem, scrutinizing its very soul the shrew confirmed the reality of it. Marylinn had a blank yet quizzical strewn upon her face; quickly the befuddled mouse stuffed the currency back into the sack. “Alright, mouse, let’s have a look atchya.” Edna went inside her home gesturing for them to follow. Sa’id closed the door behind him after Marylinn entered before him. The scent of the shrew’s brew saturated the thick, humid air. Breathing it in could cause someone to drown as if they had fallen into twenty feet of water. The shrew tended to her tea, setting the root on the oak counter beside her. She had a strange ambience that caught Marylinn’s eye.

Edna concluded the tea had finished brewing from the scent alone. From her cupboard, she pulled three small wooden cups; with a ladle she poured the murky liquid into each of the mugs and handed two of them to Sa’id and Marylinn. The baffled mouse looked down into the crudely made cup with a curious eye, the foggy, green tea appeared as though the shrew scooped it up from a pond, and her whiskers cringed at the aroma radiating from the brew. Turning her attention to the squirrel, Marylinn witnessed him scarf it down with no trouble. After a moment of hesitation, the nervous mouse brought the draught to her lips. She took in a draft of the near boiling liquid; the awful taste stained her tongue, thick, almost syrupy, the tea seeped to the back of her throat—sludge in her mouth. Marylinn involuntarily swallowed, her whole body warmed up as if she just stepped into the humid kitchen of her old monastery, a coughing fit ensued causing her to drop the cup as she clenched her collar. The aftertaste plagued her tongue a little while longer. Despite the repulsive taste, Marylinn did not get sick.

“Wha-” a cough intruded on her thought “What was that?”

“A wondaful remedy called Fish Spit.” Edna sipped on her mug “a toad showed me how ta makes it.” Marylinn’s right ear twitched along with her brow, in somewhat of a shocked state.

“It does take some getting used to though.” Sa’id added as he went to pick up the cup from the floor.

“Well, now that I’ve had my fill and fun, let’s have a look atcha.” Edna smiled, approaching Marylinn to lead her over to the den where her patients usually stayed. Three makeshift beds, crafted from throwing sheets over dried grass, laid about waiting to be occupied. The mouse sat on the middle one, as instructed. She set her rucksack down beside the bed. Edna then conducted a thorough inspection of her like a jeweler would a diamond brought by his shop, the shrew’s eye flickered at her findings, and a smirk set her face ablaze.

“Am I well?” Marylinn asked with worry flowing from her eyes.

“It depends on what ya wanna call ‘well’, yer not ill, but . . .” Edna trailed off into her thoughts, removing her glasses as she looked to Sa’id.

“But what? Tell me.”

“Well, there be no other way ta say this ‘cept,” The shrew replaced her spectacles and looked at Marylinn with an oddly warm grin as she gave the mouse’s stomach a soft pat. “Yer pregnant, my dear.”

“Pregnant?” her little heart skipped a beat as her breath ran cold. “I’m pregnant?” Marylinn inquired, expecting no response. A hush befell the dwelling, the whole forest in fact fell silent. Pregnancy, a status Marylinn thought she would not have to deal with.

Trouble with the Fall

A sweet aroma swirled about the pleasantly warm air within Edna-Marie’s home. From the special incense set out to burn, smoke ascended; a calming mood filled the quiet dwelling to the brim. Marylinn lay on a rather large mat constructed specifically for her by Sa’id. The squirrel assembled the bed from the freshest grass and finest leaves he collected in the northern end of Havenwood. Like fresh snow over hilltops, he covered the materials with a white sheet. The mouse, dazed, rested on her side under a soft blanket. Candles dimly lit the room, their incandescence added to the warmth; dancing about on their waxy platform, the small flames flickered and fluttered as Edna tended to Marylinn. Next to the shrew, a bowl of hot water sat on the floor at the bedside. Dipping a rag in the near boiling liquid, she placed it on the mouse’s forehead. Almost a month had passed since Edna pronounced the mouse pregnant; as everyone knew, mice give birth after about a month.

“How is she?” came Sa’id’s voice as he entered the shrew’s dwelling with an armful of dead foliage for the fire dancing in the hearth. He sauntered over to set fuel in a pile next to the source of warmth which Marylinn had laid just in front. He took a seat in front of the fireplace, offset to the right.

“I don’t know,” Edna began, “She should have gone into labor three days ago.” The shrew stood from her place on the floor and toted herself over to Sa’id. In the month that passed, the two had grown rather close, an unlikely instance for her of all creatures to feel affection towards another, yet it happened anyway. Carrying herself over to him, Edna sat comfortably in his lap. His arms wrapped around her like a blanket, except twice as warm, in the way that hot soup warms the soul. The two watched the flames dance about on their little stage—a beautiful performance from the orange actors and actresses.

“Everything will turn out alright.” Sa’id comforted her with his soothing voice that seemed to float gently on the air as a sailboat floats on the calm sea. Marylinn stirred silently on the soft mattress, opening her little, honey-brown eyes; the mouse gave a faint smile at the sight of those two curled up together in front of the fireplace.

* * *

Late June

Who knew giving birth could be so difficult. I still ask myself just how I was able to do it. Now I have three darling baby boys. Originally, I had a litter of seven pups, but sadly the other four died. The father, as I can see in them, is no doubt a rat. That has not gotten me down, however. I have given them names: Eliot, Isaac, and James. Already I can see each of their personalities. Eliot, rather curious and adventurous, likes to grab and feel things. Isaac, so sweet and quiet, observes the world around him from sight. I do see him squint a great deal so I think he might need glasses. James, or Little Jamie as I like to call him, is a real handful. He’s a rather mischievous mouse-rat. He likes attention and often cries. He is, of course, the smallest of the three and needs more care. I enjoy watching them grow, and as there mother, I love them with all of my heart.
It is a beautiful day outside. The sun shines brightly as a light breeze blows through the forest. When they wake from their nap, I will take them out to enjoy the beautiful day He has provided for us.

Marylinn J. Quillian

* * *

To Marylinn, it seemed not much time passed before her baby boys had grown into the springtime of their youth. They began attending school as the other children of Havenwood, fitting in quite nicely. As a loving mother to her children, Marylinn had grown a little older and wiser. They found a charming tree close to Edna—to build there home. Sa’id, along with some other willing helpers constructed the dwelling and furnishings inside.

Just outside in the cool air of twilight hours after dusk and before dawn, the three brothers played with the fireflies of the late summer. Their laughter radiated out in all directions like the light from the bright insects.

“Hey guys look what I got.” Isaac called out to his brothers, scurrying over them. Unfortunately, he tripped and the firefly he wanted to show them escaped from the grasp of his little paws. The incandescent glow of the bug seemed to change the color of their fur from a muted grey to a sleepy green, the flies’ humming buzz blended with the sweet aroma of the evening; a sweet taste slept in the air around them with a snoring breeze.

“You okay, Izzy?” Eliot inquired as he went to pick up Isaac’s large round glasses.

“You gotta be more careful.” James added, biting his tongue to hold off a fit of laughter as he helped his brother to his feet.

“Okay.” Sniffing with a nod, Isaac rubbed an eye. After wiping off the dirt from the glasses with a patch of fur, Eliot handed them to the fallen mouserat. Isaac sniffed again as he donned his corrective eyewear. The spectacles slid down his nose slightly in the usual manner. Soon a smile set his face ablaze with wonderment flowing from his eyes. The fireflies of the night danced around the twilight as all three watched in amazement.

Their playtime ended as Eliot heard their mother calling them for dinner. They scurried on home in the darkening night of the late summer. Marylinn stood in the open doorway leading into their quaint home. She watched as her sons hurried through the wet grass. They scurried inside after there mother stepped aside.

“Hi, Mama.” They greeted in unison after entering the dwelling. Marylinn closed the door behind them, keeping the cold at bay. Warmth radiated from the soft light of the lanterns.

“Wash up for dinner boys.” She told them in a voice that seemed to glide on the cozy air.

* * *

“Hello, Mary.” Dorothy’s voice sailed through the sea of fresh air. Marylinn turned her attention from her bible to the approaching mouse with a smile. The two had become fast friends over the summer. Often times, Dorothy helped out with her three boys.

“Oh, hello. How you today?” she squeaked, her paws shutting the little black book before she stood.

“Me, I’m fine, loving the day.” Dorothy returned heartily.

“Indeed, it is beautiful out today.” The two began walking towards the river to the east. The sun splashed brightly on their backs.

“So, did ya hear about the news?” Dorothy inquired, nudging her friend.

“What news?” Marylinn had a bit of confusion in her eyes. She hugged her book tightly and it pressed firmly into her soft bosom.

“You know, in the market…” she pointed towards the center of the forest, about where the large marketplace sat.

“Oh, I haven’t been since last week. What happened?”

“The king has made a decree and raised taxes on the merchants. They have no choice, but to raise their prices.”

“His magistracy reaches out here?”

“Oh yes,” Dorothy nodded. “His kingdom stretches far beyond the walls of Stonewell.”

“I had no idea. Back in the monastery, we only had to follow the father’s guidance.”

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot you’re not from around these parts.” Dorothy’s brilliant white fur and beautiful red eyes accentuated her playful smile. Marylinn smiled too and her eyes flickered as they reached the river, its quiet melody soothing the birds and the bees. Adjusting her glasses, she looked back at Dorothy.

“So, Mrs. Dorothy Blacksmith how’s life as a newlywed?” She nudged the white mouse. “I heard you just got married around the same time I gave birth.” Dorothy felt a deep blush ripening her cheeks.

“It’s absolutely wonderful. Edwin is so good to me.” She replied, bringing a paw to her soft cheek. Marylinn let out a little laugh before kneeling down at the water’s edge.

“Ah that’s good to hear.” Marylinn pulled out a tin flask from the bag she carried and set it down beside her. After studying the water carefully through her glasses, the mouse slid her paw into the stream. Her fur stood on end in waves as the chill of the water traveled up her arm and into the depths of her body. She let out a sweet sigh as the fluid slipped in between her fingers. Taking her other paw, Marylinn scooped up some and brought it to her nose. After a quick whiff, she sipped the cool water—the taste of purity.

“Tastes great, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yes, it’s wonderful.” Marylinn nodded as she filled her flask to the brim.

“That’s the taste of Havenwood. It comes all the way from Haven Lake in the mountains.” Just as Dorothy said, the river flowed from Haven Lake in the North. The lake collected in the basin of the Churibii Mountain where the gypsies lived alongside the mouse-tribe of the Churibii. Every fall, they come down to the market place for the Harvest Festival. They shared another laugh and the jollity radiated out into the warm sky.

* * *

At this time, all did not seem well however. With the new tax declared, tension rose as the tide in the king’s castle of all places. The kingdom of Stonewell suffered most from the taxes as King Lucious created many and frequently raised them. This nipped at his son furiously like an insect, irritating him immensely. Heir to the throne, Prince Alfen vowed to correct his greedy father’s ruling. But, the fact he wouldn’t come to power for another year and a half frustrated him greatly, tormenting him like the plague. Fuming at the news of the latest tax on the merchants, Alfen stormed to the throne room to have a word with the king. He grumbled to himself as he made his way through the stone corridor, dimly lit by torches on the wall. Portraits of crowned heads passed hung on the cold walls, staring at him with a stern glare as he passed by. His ancestry consisted of many prominent rulers—some feared, some loved, and some highly respected, though all noteworthy. At the end of the hallway, two knights stood guard at the entrance to the throne room, their armor flickering with the flame of the torches. The young mouse knew them especially well, Jonathon and Ambrose, as he visited them along with the other knights. Unlike his father, Alfen treated them more like brothers rather than pawns.

“Greetings, Prince.” Ambrose saluted him.

“Good day Ambrose, Jonathon…well not do much good day.” He greeted, slowing to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” Scratching his nose, Jonathon picked the mouse’s brain curiously.

“Oh, my father issued yet another tax increase.” Alfen turned and leaned against the large door. Looking down, he let a sad sigh pass through his mouth “I am going to have a word with my father. I think he’s gone too far this time.” Jonathon knelt down at his side and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“I admire your passion for the people.” He told him

“Indeed, that will make you a great king.” Ambrose added.

“Well, my words may be no use, but I cannot stand by and watch this any longer.” Alfen turned around after Jonathon stood aside. “I’m ready.”

“Alright, good luck.” Ambrose smiled before opening the door. Switching to his declaration voice, he announced the prince’s arrival to the king. “Now your majesty, presenting Prince Alfen.” He bowed as Alfen stepped into the overly luxurious room. He traversed the brightly lit room to stand before his father, who busily counted a bag of gold coins. A fine red rug led up to the golden throne which sat atop a raised platform. Various expensive and exotic items filled the royal chamber. King Lucious appeared equally as decorated. Over his pale fur, he wore his sapphire robe trimmed with gold with matching rings on both paws. A large crown, decorated with ornate gems and precious metals rested on a bed of fur in between his ears.

Alfen contrasted his father’s appearance greatly as he inherited one of his fathers many traits. He owned the same pair of bold green eyes. They showed confidence and a certain air that shouted his message. With fur more like silver, the young mouse found no need to decorate himself with expensive trinkets and things of that nature. He preferred to wear plain clothes and along with his late mother’s ring on a simple chain. Alfen loved his mother dearly and learned from her kindness.

Fifteen tense minutes passed as their debate rang through the castle. Like a church bell, the walls resonated with their voices. All of the many guards and servants paused from their duties as they heard the echoes. Alfen burst through the door furious and disheartened. Looking back at his stubborn father sitting on his fat rump, he shouted back in disgust.

“You’re absolutely revolting and you make me sick! It is you who makes this world so miserable for others!” His eyes welled up with tears as his voice filled with heartbreak “Father, I hate you.” He tore the family crest from his shirt’s shoulder and threw it at his father’s feet. The brass piece of work clanged as it skipped across the ground “I hereby disavow this family, but mark my words, I will return to these people—my people.” Alfen had just disowned himself and denied all rights to the throne. Before scurrying away he quietly told Jonathon and Ambrose to meet him by the east gate in half an hour. He wanted Ambrose to pack up his things.

The ex-prince, Alfen, stood at the gate with a bag on his back along with a change of clothes. He wore a black vest with a ragged shirt underneath. Around his waist, a belt held a pouch filled with an adequate bunch of coins.

“Hello prin- er Alfen, sorry about what happened.” Ambrose greeted as they approached.

“Don’t worry about it; I did what I had to do for the people.” Alfen told the both of them. “In order to help them I have to go away for a bit.”

“Where to?” Jonathon inquired

“Havenwood,” the young mouse smiled “I’ve heard the name come up in the records. I plan on coming back to claim Stonewell in the name of the people.” He pointed toward the east.

“And you want us to come?” Jonathon shrugged.

“Just one of you, Ambrose, I need you to stay behind and report what goes on while we’re gone. Jonathon, you’ll send us updates through Adam, a black bird that passes by.”

“It would be an honor to go with you, Alfen.” Ambrose bowed slightly in gratitude.

“Please, you don’t need to do that,” he chuckled “I’m not the prince anymore, and you can just call me Al.” he smiled.

“You got it, Al. Now we should get going.” Ambrose patted him on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” Jonathon added “your father can have you put away for treason.”

“Right then… I shall return, but until then I bid you farewell, friend.” Alfen saluted.

“And I shall await your return.” Jonathon replied as he waved them goodbye. Ambrose and all left out of the eastern gate and headed for the forest. With the sun to their back, the two looked forward to the days to come.

* * *

After setting up for the evening, Al went to look around the forest. The starry sky began to blanket the earth as the sun sank behind the horizon. The moon took its rightful place in the sky as the guardian over all creatures of the night. Light illuminated the forest, bringing out the brilliant icy colors. Blues and deep greens mingled with the wind, a soft melody sounds through the trees as the crickets play their instruments, the intangible waltz all around in a peaceful manner. Al looked all around with amazement flowing from his eyes as he had only dreamed of this sight. Mother Nature, as appointed by Him, arranged this ball of the forest every night. A certain flavor swirled about air like light mist—the taste of Havenwood. Al’s fur truly appeared as silver and his eyes flickered like emeralds as the moon cast its bright glow upon the mouse. He closed his eyes and felt its luminescence pour into his soul. Slowly, he pace towards the moon; the grass rustled quietly underneath his feet with every step.

Before he knew it, the moon carried him away into the forest, at the waters cool edge. He peered around and found another figure that had followed the moon—a pretty mouse with eyes like drops of honey and fur teaming with gold. Al sauntered to her side without a second thought. They embraced each other, enjoying the feel of another presence. To him, she felt soft and warm to the touch, while, to her, he felt slick and cool. She blushed warmly as he snuggled her so affectionately, soaking up his touch. Nuzzling her neck, they rested in the soft grass together; Al still held her close. Their tails mingled and played, wrapping just as they felt their souls. There, under the moonlight, the two mice shared a sweet kiss. The spell of the Havenwood moon captures yet another couple under its light—love at first embrace.