The Mouse Gets a Map

Because the mouse had rushed off into the dark of night, the forest around his home village now seemed more frightening than ever. The shadows of the trees stretched long and menacing as the pale light of the moon watched over the mouse. Here and there came a strange rustling that made the mouse's fur stand on end with terror.

The mouse did not look back, for he knew that if the familiar and the safe reached his heart one last time, they would carry his courage away with them. The mouse quickened his pace and pressed on, deeper and deeper into the forest.

Because no villager had been this far from home in many generations, the mouse quickly found himself utterly lost. He hopped up onto a stump he came across to look around, and sniffed the air with his whiskers swaying in the wind. The cold air stung his snout. Whichever way he looked, he saw only trees and darkness. The mouse felt despair rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down. He could not give up now.

The mouse was startled to hear something extra amid the sighing of the wind. Something eerie. Perhaps the flapping of wings. His whole body froze with fear. Instinctively he leapt to safety only a moment before it was too late. The owl that plunged past him seemed angry, which was of course understandable. After all, what had looked like a sure breakfast had just turned out to be a tricky catch.

What followed was a dance of leaps and swoops as the mouse tried to escape the bird he had, only a moment before, thought nothing but a myth. The owl's talons whistled through the air just a hair's breadth from the mouse's tail. The mouse ran as fast as he could, bounding over stones and roots. His heart pounded so hard he thought it would burst.

Just as the mouse's strength was giving out, and he was sure this was his final moment, something yanked him to safety inside a stump, and everything went pitch dark.

"Got you! You're safe now," came a voice from the darkness. "What on earth were you doing out at this hour?"

The mouse was too bewildered to answer. The attack from the sky and the flight into darkness, pulled along by a strange figure, had set his head spinning. He breathed heavily and tried to calm his heart.

"Well, never mind," the strange voice went on, and lit a lamp.

The light blinded the mouse, but as he slowly began to see again, his mind settled. For standing before him was a mole dressed in nightclothes. Of moles the mouse had heard nothing but good in the old stories. The mole had a kindly face and a long gray beard that reached almost to the floor.

"Th... thank you..." the mouse managed. "I'm... I'm on an adventure... I'm looking for the great pumpkin..."

"Is that so," the mole muttered, stroking his beard. "Night is no time for an adventure, unless you'd like to be eaten by an owl." Then he grew serious, and in the lamplight his eyes suddenly looked very old. "Or unless you have a very heavy reason to be out just now. This autumn the darkness is coming too early. Has your village felt it?"

The mouse nodded slowly, though he did not fully understand what the mole meant. He thought of the emptying stores and the quieting village, and something in the mole's voice made him sense that these two things were connected.

"You've had some luck, though," the mole said, surprising the mouse. "Come along with me."

The mole led the mouse down a passage to a library. The walls of the passage were lined with little shelves holding all sorts of marvelous things. The mouse did not recognize half of them, but to him they looked thrilling. He felt excitement and fear struggling in his mind, but there was something calming in the mole's confidence.

The library filled the mouse's mind with wonder. Its shelves rose from floor to ceiling, and they were full of old books and scrolls. The air smelled of old paper and candles. The mouse had never before seen so many books in one place.

When they came to a great chest of drawers, the mole rummaged for a while in its top drawer, plainly searching for something. He mumbled to himself and tossed aside all manner of junk. The mouse saw, among other things, string, candles, and pens of many kinds.

"Here it is!" he exclaimed all at once, an enormous button in his hand.

The button was beautiful and gleaming. It was made of dark wood, and strange lines and symbols were carved into its surface. When the mouse looked more closely, he realized that the lines formed a pattern that looked just like a maze.

The mole gave the button to the mouse and explained that it was a map to the great pumpkins. It had passed down through their family from one mole to the next, and no one remembered anymore where it had originally come from. The mole had always known that one day it would be needed. Now that day had come.

"But it is not only a map," the mole added quietly, and turned to look the mouse straight in the eyes. "It is also a lantern. Look." He pressed the lamp out, and for a moment the library was completely dark. Then the mouse saw that the button's lines glowed faintly in the darkness, as though they had drunk in light over the course of the day. "It shines brightest when there is too much darkness around you. Remember that. When the button glows, it does not mean you are safe. It means that something is stalking you."

The mole offered the mouse a place to stay as well, which the mouse gladly accepted. He had no more interest in going out to try his luck against the owl in the dark forest. The mole's home, by contrast, was safe and cozy. In its corner burned a hearth-fire that warmed the mouse's snout pleasantly.

While the mouse eagerly studied the map, the mole brewed them some cocoa. Because the map was an old button, there was plenty in it to marvel at for a small mouse who had never before seen even an ordinary map. In his village there had been no need for such things, for no one ever went far from the great oak.

The mouse turned the button over in his hands and tried to interpret its secrets. The lines and symbols formed patterns that seemed to mean something important, but what? Even the mole could not tell him much, for no instructions had come with it. His grandfather had always believed it led to the pumpkins.

"My grandfather always told me stories that the button finds its rightful owner when the time is right," the mole explained as he poured the cocoa into cups. "The time is right when the darkness comes too early. Your arriving here on this very night is likely no accident."

The mole handed the mouse a steaming cup of cocoa and sat down beside him. The cocoa smelled delicious, and the warm cup drew the last of the cold from his paws. They sat a long while in silence, drinking and looking at the map, as though it would reveal its secrets only to the patient.

Outside, the mist crept through the forest and pressed against the windows of the house, but inside there was warmth and safety. The mouse felt a quiet hope strengthening him from within.

"What do you know about the great pumpkin?" the mouse asked curiously.

"Almost nothing, really," the mole answered. "I know that many search for it, but I have never heard of anyone who found one. For you to have any hope of succeeding, you will need courage, luck, and perhaps a little magic." He fell silent a moment. "You will need one more thing. The most important of all. But of that I will speak to you before you leave."

The mouse thought about the mole's words. He had courage at least, or else he would not have left his home village. He had had luck too, for the mole had saved him from the owl. But magic? That he did not think he had.

The mole seemed to notice the mouse's worry. He set his cocoa cup down and looked at the mouse for a long moment.

"Do you know what I have learned over these years?" the mole said at last. "A moment ago, when the owl swooped, you had no time to think at all. But now, safe, you can look fear in the eye. When you stop and think about what you are really feeling, fear suddenly seems much smaller."

"How do you mean?" the mouse asked, puzzled.

"When you say to yourself, 'I am afraid,' the fear becomes something you can handle. It is no longer everywhere inside you; it is only one feeling among others. Then you can decide what to do with it." The mole leaned closer, and his voice turned grave. "Now listen carefully, for this is the most important thing. Out there is a cold that has no name. Your village elders call it the Darkness. It does no harm with teeth or claws. It makes you stop feeling. First it dims your fear, then your joy, then your longing for home, and when you feel nothing at all, you sit down to rest and never rise again. Do you understand?"

The mouse nodded slowly, though his heart went cold. "How can anyone fight against it?"

"Not with a sword," the mole said. "But in just the way we learned a moment ago. By feeling. When the Darkness tries to dim you, you must name what you feel, out loud if you have to. As long as you feel, it cannot have you. It is the only magic you have. Luckily, it is also the only one you need."

The mouse had never thought about feelings that way. In his home village, the unpleasant feelings, like fear and sorrow, were simply things one tried not to feel. Now he realized that this very thing, the pushing away of feelings, was what the Darkness wanted. He must still have a great deal to learn about himself.

"And what if you feel many things at once?" the mouse asked quietly. "Excitement and fear at the same time, say?"

The mole smiled warmly. "There is nothing wrong with that. Feelings usually keep good company together. The more of them you feel at once, the brighter the light that the Darkness cannot bear."

When it was time to sleep, the mouse hid the map away in his pack. The mole showed him to a snug little corner room with a soft bed and a thick blanket.

"Sleep well, little adventurer," the mole said, smiling. "Here you may sleep in safety. But remember, from now on: when tiredness comes too suddenly and too sweetly, it is not always your own."

The mouse wrapped himself under the blanket and thought about the mole's words. He felt out his own feelings, as though testing whether they could all fit inside the same heart. Excitement, fear, gratitude, and longing were all there, side by side.

"I've learned all sorts of new things," the mouse whispered to himself under the blanket, and smiled. Under the blanket, in the dark, he saw the button in his pack glowing ever so faintly, a reminder that the darkness was not far away.

Before sleep took him, the mouse saw the mole linger in the doorway, watching the mist that wandered through the night around them. The old mole stood there a long time, as though he were guarding something.