Wee Timerous Beasty

Glazed by the glare of the sun, three crows sit in the dead branch of an elm, dark portentous. They are ministers of breaking and entering, three weird sisters unphased by the elements. Come thunder, lightning and rainbows there mordant shadows fall. A cloud shutters the sun into a new attitude. 

At the base of the elm the small family of mice think this may be their chance. They are so hungry that they suck on their toes to survive. They are terrified of making a break from the shadows to find food knowing too well the nature of feather and claw above. The crows sit as still as stone. Unless they are fighting, and then they are actually very noisy, it is difficult to tell if they are asleep or awake. The mice cower and quake as they peep through the lattice of brambles that holds them safe. The crows caw and cackle making the mice’s delicate pink ears hurt at their uncomfortable words, words that seem to come from a dictionary of dark magic full of threat and malice.

Peony, the eldest of three, desperate for sustenance, encourages her sisters

"Gather ye rose buds while ye may, and rose-hips and sweet peas and beetles, for surely if we do not the three weird sisters up there will uncork the essence of our lives anyway and we will be no more than dust.”

“But Peony, we are scared. What if the carved three are watching, waiting to prey on us?”

“If we try to find food death is a possibility sisters but it is a certainty if we stay here any longer. Surely you see we cannot hide behind this wainscot of bark any longer?”

After some time and timerous uncertainty, the mice gather their baskets and make ready for the foray, hoping against hope that the goddess of creation will guide and protect them. They reach the opening of brambles with Peony in the lead. With a brave squeak of 

      “Sisters, with me,” they follow Peony into the light and make a dash through the tall grass. Three tails, like worms, snake and bob in the dirt as they scamper head long toward the safety of a nearby thicket.

A sudden whoosh and a down beat of wings causes them to scatter. The faintest scuffle is heard, a squeek, then silence. The sisters reach the thicket and cower low. They watch a fat spider sneak slowly around her web and gradually their galloping hearts calm to a steady rhythm. They breathe more slowly and look to each other for comfort. 

Where is Peony? The sisterhood look around and see that she is fallen, nothing left of her but marks in the dust, her mouse-like persona no more than a memory. In that moment they know she has saved them all. They will offer due ceremony, create a tent of fallen leaves, a resting place for her adventurer's spirit. They will always remember it was her who had shown them the way.