#tiny stories

“Pepper, dear, it’s time to eat,” he said softly, placing a worn and weathered paw on their shoulder. Pepper turned to look at him, but their eyes were still fixed on the distance, the hills and valleys beyond the trees. Russet sighed. “You know, your mother and I do wish you’d spend a little more time with us, Pepper. With your brothers and sisters, on the ground. The view up here is lovely, sure, but we just don’t think it’s safe for a young mouse to sit out on a branch, so high up and in the open, mind all wandering hither and yon. What if a bird snatched you up while you were daydreaming? What if you fell down? We worry about you.”

“But Papa,” Pepper said, “don’t you ever get tired of seeing the same tree trunks and burrows and dirt and grass every day? There’s so much more, you can just look and look and never run out of things to see if you go up high enough.”

Russet smiled, but the worry didn’t leave his eyes. “I think I’d rather see the same things every day and be safe and warm and happy with my family,” he told Pepper gently. “This orchard has been our family’s home for generations, we have everything we need here. The world out there is awfully large and largely awful, little one, and we mice are small and soft. The ground is where we belong, dear one, it’s as simple as that.”

“We may be tiny, but we’re swift and clever, too,” Pepper insisted with a huff. “Who can say how far a little mouse like me might travel and how much I might see if only I would try?”

Russet shook his head. “I know life seems so simple and free and wild to you now,” he said wistfully. “But until you’re old enough to know better yourself I’ll just have to ask you to trust your old Papa: the world is cruel, and you can’t outrun or out-think it for long. All you can do is find those places where you can be safe and happy and make your home there. And for me and my father and his father, that was here. And for you, Pepper, that’s with me. Now come on down and join us for supper.”