A little story and art teaser for my upcoming book Montague Mouse: “You have me and I have you, so we will never be alone. Not truly anyhow. No matter where we go and what will befall us, we will always be friends.” The frog brightened in a smile as Montague spoke, he pulled the little mouse in for a great big hug (...)
Patches of icy snow were still present on the muddy ground of the withered Moorwood, the winter had been long and hard. It was supposed to be spring now, but an awful silence had fallen over the woods. It was reason for great concern, for all animals know that silence is a sure sign that something is amiss. Life is never silent. There was, however, one little mouse who was not concerned, at least not at current. If he had known better he would have been very concerned, but as it was – he was very little and very hungry and had therefore little room for concern.
"There are witches?" Montague asked as he gave Svea an incredulous look. "Of course there are witches! All the best woods always have witches!" "But don't witches wish you ill?" "Yes, that's why they are witches." "So why are we going to find one?" "To find the North Star!" - Montague Mouse
"Carry on! We aren't fully lost yet!" It sounded from underneath the cat skull. Arthur responded with a ribbiting chuckle which momentarily agitated Montague. He suspected the frog didn't comprehend how serious the situation was, but what did it matter?
“In that moment on that day, the sun washed away the darkness from their mind and spirit. In that moment on that day, all that existed was the gentle wind of spring which caressed their faces as they tumbled through the fields of heather, euphoric with the scent of the fair flowers. In that moment on that day, everything was as it should be.” – Montague Mouse.
Marten’s gaze traveled from the owl to the fox, somewhere inside him a glimmer of hope sparked that Fox would volunteer himself but Fox looked away, frustration and pain evident on his features. He always prided himself on being an animal of action, but his red coat made him even more visible than the owl and although he was fast, Marten was undeniably faster and would have little trouble hiding, and Marten knew this.
Winter had come as it did every year; draping the woods in a beautiful carpet of snow that induced a quiet, content slumber among the woodland animals. After the appointment of the Marten, only some had left to seek the warmth of the South for good. The rest were no longer afraid. The Marten would surely be successful and save them all. He was a brave animal, a real hero, so they slept; snug and warm in their dens.