Copyright © 2018 Alpine Line Publishers LLC / Nicholas S. Casale

In those days, a wrong-hearted Cat Sorceress named Felicia Muur ruled over all mice.

Our people were slaves, forced to surrender the fruits of their labors to Queen Felicia's minions whenever they demanded. Mice were forced into one of two professions: farming or scavenging. The farmers worked their paws to the bone every day, and kept only the smallest part of their harvest. Scavengers had an even more dangerous existence; traveling into the ancient, ruined cities of the tall apes to seek treasures they would never be allowed to keep.

It was on one such scavenging mission that Mousey's father, Topo Souris, had disappeared without a trace.

One day, when Mousey was just a pup, after his daily chores were done, he wandered away from his mother's farmhouse, down to the creek to play. He kept an eye on the shadows cast upon the ground, knowing that if he stayed out until after sundown, the Queen's Nocturnal Patrol, vampire bats, would soon fill the skies, and he'd be fair game for them to snatch up to a place from whence he'd never return.

Mousey was never one for sports or competitive games. He did not play ball with the hedgehogs, squirrels, or even his twelve brothers and fourteen sisters, for even among other mice he was quite small. Instead, he liked to let his imagination carry him away to flights of fancy.

Sometimes he'd imagine himself as a noble warrior, or the pilot of an airship. Other times he'd imagine he was anything but a simple mouse.

At the creek, he hopped from one round stone to another, gripping the rocks with the pads of his paws. He pretended he was a bear, leaping from one mountaintop to the next while the ocean raged below him. Of course, as a child he had so little understanding of how large bears truly were. Fish far larger than he swam by, and he pretended they were whales, though he had only ever heard stories of such sea beasts.

His game of "Bear Jump" came to a halt, however, when a groan of pain fell upon his large ears. He hopped back to shore and followed the sound, until he found the source. Lying upon the shore was a frog, dressed in shining, silver armor. The frog was nearly twice Mousey's size, and his face was covered in bruises. He croaked in pain again, screwing his eyes shut.

Mousey glanced back and forth for any sign of an adult, someone better fit to help this poor amphibian, but he soon realized that if anyone was going to help this stranger it would have to be he.

"Always be wary of strangers."

This proverb was not just something his father and mother had taught him, but was well-known among mouse-kind in those days.

Even so, he could not leave this green amphibian to his fate.

"What's wrong?" he squeaked as he drew near.

"Oh, wee one," croaked the frog. "Great is my woe! I have been defeated this day in dreadful battle against insidious toads! Ten terrible toads trounced me at once, the cruel knaves! 'Twas an unfair fight, and I fear without healing I am not long for this world!"

"That's terrible!" squeaked Mousey. "But, I think I can help you. My Mom is a healer."

"I would be most grateful to you, little mouse!" croaked the frog. "But, alas, I am afraid I cannot walk. My injuries are too... injurious!"

"I can help with that, too," said Mousey. He hopped over to the opposite shore, where he'd spotted some driftwood. He took a stick with a Y-shape at the top, then brought it back to the frog. In Mousey's pocket were bandages his mother always made him carry with him, lest he skin his knee. He wrapped the bandages around the top of the crutch to make it softer under Sir Ranae's arm. Once he'd gotten the frog up to his feet, he slipped the stick under his arm, allowing his new, amphibious friend to use it as a crutch.

Mousey stood on the frog's side, opposite from the crutch, and supported him under his arm as they made their way back toward the town of Okber.

"You show great kindness to strangers," said the frog. "'Tis a rare thing, truly. Surely, one so virtuous will be blessed. Might I know my new friend's name?"

"I'm Mousey. Mousey Souris."

The frog nodded his head. "An easy name to remember. I am called Sir Ranae of the Dank Marsh." The frog tapped the symbol on his breastplate, which was a tree with vines hanging from its branches.

"Sir?" Mousey looked up at the frog's bruised face. "So, you are a knight?"

Sir Ranae faltered. He would have tumbled into the stream, had Mousey not caught him. "Have you not heard of my mighty deeds? The tales of Sir Ranae, Salamander's Bane? The stories of Sir Ranae, victor of the Slimey Swamp? The Champion of the Fearsome Fen? The Hero of the Black Bog?"

"I... I'm afraid I haven't," said Mousey. He scratched one of his ears and bit his lip. "Forgive me, we here in Okber do not hear many great tales. We only hear what Queen Felicia allows us to."

"Oh?" croaked Sir Ranae. His nostrils flared. "She must be a truly terrible tyrant to deny you such epics! When I am well again, I shall repay your kindness by showing her what is what!"

"Shhh!" Mousey glanced back and forth to be sure that none of the villagers nearby had heard the frog knight's words. Mousey had drawn enough attention to himself by helping this outsider. He didn't need to add talk of rebellion to the list of reasons for the weasels of the Day Patrol to pay him a visit. "Queen Felicia is a powerful sorceress," he whispered. "Her magic is great, and her wrath is terrible! You'd best not anger her!"

Sir Ranae sighed and nodded his head. "I see. She truly has a hold on your people." His tongue slipped out and licked one of his eyeballs. "Very well, I shall strive not to cause trouble for you, my friend."

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"Mom!" Mousey called out, as they drew near the farmhouse.

Mousey's mother looked up from her plow. Her eyes widened and pupils narrowed when she spotted the frog in armor her son was helping limp towards their house.

"Mousefred Souris! What are you doing?" she cried, pulling on her own ears.

"He's hurt!" Mousey squeaked back. "Please, help him!"

His mother groaned and rushed to the front door of the house. "Get him inside! Hurry!"

Always an obedient child, Mousey did as he was told. He brought the frog inside and eased him onto the top of the dinner table. As far as he could tell, it was the only surface big enough to support Sir Ranae.

Mousey's mother dug through the cupboards until she found a medicine bottle, one Mousey knew that he was never to touch without her permission. She filled a ladle with the contents, and held it up to the frog's lips. "Drink this. It will help with the pain."

"I thank ye kindly, ma'am," croaked Sir Ranae. He sipped the medicine and his face contorted in disgust. "Blech! Begging your pardon, ma'am, but might you have some that's gnat-flavored rather than... whatever this is?"

"I'm sorry, but blackberry flavor is all we have," said Mousey's mother, resting her paws on her hips. "We're not used to treating frogs in this house. If you don't want it—"

Before she could finish her statement, Sir Ranae gulped down all the medicine in the ladle at once. His whole body shook and he made a clicking sound at the back of his throat. "No. Thank you kindly, ma'am. I just need to be grateful for what help I can get."

"Yes," Mrs. Souris said, flatly. "Where does it hurt?"

"My face, my head, my right ankle, and my elbows," croaked Sir Ranae.

"Oh? Is that all?" said Mrs. Souris. She and Sir Ranae shared a chuckle.

She lifted Sir Ranae's leg and slipped off his boot. The frog winced as she did so, and his fingers gripped the edge of the table. "Looks like a sprain," she said. "Nothing broken, thank Heaven. Mousey, go fetch the splint and bandages."

"Yes, Mom." Mousey rushed off to retrieve the supplies she requested. As her treatment of Sir Ranae's injuries went on, he worked as her assistant, bringing whatever she said she needed. Soon, all of his brothers and sisters returned to the small hovel, all rattling off questions about the green beast who lay upon their dinner table.

"Children," said Sir Ranae, "I assure you, I mean no harm to you or your home. Your brother rescued me from a lonely demise, and your mother has been gracious enough to help heal my injuries."

Button, Mousey's oldest sister, scowled at her brother with arms folded. She shook her head, her great, round ears flopping back and forth.

Mousey had broken the cardinal rule that all mouse pups knew: he'd brought a stranger into their home. He gave his sister a pleading look in hopes that she would understand his act of compassion.

Soon, Sir Ranae had all of the children distracted as he told his own stories. He told of a time when he fought five toads himself, swinging his sword as effortlessly as a conductor's baton.

He told them of the time a bass had very nearly eaten him, but he fought his way back out of its mouth. Later that same day, he'd served the bass to his comrades for supper.

He told them of something called an "octopus," a creature that sounded far too bizarre to be real.

He spoke of the desert Snake King; a cobra who could spit his venom and kill his prey from afar. Sir Ranae had barely escaped that encounter with his life.

Most intriguing, though, was his tale of the Summer Fireflies. Thousands of luminescent bugs filled the air, and Sir Ranae felt as if he were walking among the stars. Each firefly told him a prophecy of the future, and since then he had seen all but two come true.

Like his brothers and sisters, Mousey hung on the frog knight's every word, excited to hear tales of lands so far away from the little town of Okber. They could hardly imagine just how enormous the world truly was, and what sorts of wonders it held.

The sun set over the horizon, and Mrs. Souris got to work on preparing bread for her children's supper, when there was a knock on the door.

All of the children fell silent in an instant.

"What is it?" Sir Ranae said, glancing up at the door to see what had them all so frightened. Mousey slipped a paw over his lips and motioned for him to be quiet.

Mrs. Souris trembled as she approached the front door. She rested her paw on the handle and asked, "Who's there?"

"Lieutenant Nycht of the Nocturnal Patrol," came a low voice from the other side of the door. "Open up. Now."

Mrs. Souris glanced back at her children and Sir Ranae, bit her lip, then slowly opened the front door.

Just outside the door stood six bats, each clad in black armor, with black helmets covering their faces. The one at the front was the smallest of any of them, and he shoved his way past Mrs. Souris as he entered their hovel.

Under the visor, his red eyes settled on Sir Ranae. "So, it's true."

Sir Ranae sat up, his fists clenched and his eyes narrowing to slits.

Nycht drew a sword from his belt and pointed the tip at Sir Ranae. "We've been looking all over for you, Ranae. The Toad King has offered a great reward to Queen Felicia for your capture, as I'm sure you've guessed by now."

"I will come quietly." Sir Ranae groaned as he stood from the table. "But only if you promise not to hurt these mice."

"Most of the family can go about their lives as before," said Nycht, his voice reverberating behind his steel visor. "But there is one we must take in for questioning. Which one of you pups is named 'Mousey'?"

All of the pups were silent, as was Mrs. Souris. Sir Ranae also kept his mouth shut, and sneered at the bat.

Nycht waved his claw to the other bats, and they all barged through the door of the hovel, crawling on all fours. Each stood on his hind-legs, drew his sword, and pointed it at the family of mice. "I don't want to get violent, but my subordinates do," said Nycht. "Mousey, whoever you are, you have until the count of five to step forward, otherwise we will put your entire family to the sword!"

"You wouldn't dare!" croaked Sir Ranae. He raised his fists. "I'm far bigger than any of you! I'll crush you all if you dare try!"

Most of the bats cackled under their steel helmets, their voices high-pitched.

Nycht shook his head. "Ranae, don't be a fool. You are injured and unarmed. Any fight would be one-sided. You will not save these pups, so do not give us more reason to use violence." Nycht turned to the mice again and said, "One... two... three..."

Mousey jumped to his feet. "I'm the one you want! Don't hurt my family!"

Nycht reached out and seized Mousey by the shoulder.

"No!" Mrs. Souris shouted. She reached out to push Nycht away from Mousey, but Nycht struck her face with the pommel of his sword. The blow sent her sprawling back onto the ground.

"Don't try that again, vermin!" growled Nycht. "I'm warning you!"

Mousey looked over at his mother, trying to see if she was still moving. She appeared to be breathing, but her eyes were shut, and she made no attempt to move.

The other bats all gathered around Sir Ranae, their blades still pointed at his face in case he tried to fight back. One slipped around to his back and clapped his wrists in manacles behind him.

The bats all pushed Sir Ranae and Mousey out of the hovel and out to the streets of Okber.

Mousey's skin felt cold under his fur as he looked up at the night sky. How many times had he heard a mouse scream in terror as bats carried them away into that blackness? Never once had he seen any of them return. What terrible fate awaited him? To what dark dungeon would these bats take him?

Nycht bound Mousey's hands, ensuring that the knots were tight. "If you do not struggle you will not fall," he said.

"Do not fear, pup," Sir Ranae whispered to Mousey. "I've been in far more dangerous situations than this."

Those were the last words Mousey heard before Nycht took off into the air, carrying him in his claws.