From Small Mice Mighty Bigfeet Grow
By Jenny Harrington
There are places that is and places that aren't. In between lies a third, the places that might be. It's in these might-be places where the Old Ones live and where the new stories are born.
Now, it's a common belief that old means wise, but that just isn't so. Old means old and wise means wise, and sometimes the two meet and sometimes they don't. In the case of the Old Ones, wise isn't usually a consideration. In fact, many of the Old Ones would consider wise to be an insult, something designed to hold them back from what pleasures they may take.
One day, in the land where the mountains meet the sea, Mouse was looking for some seed. Not just any seed, but her favorite seeds. She had stashed them away the previous summer. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn't find them. Her first favorite hiding place behind the old fir was empty. Her second favorite place by the riverbank was also empty.
Mouse thought long and hard, stroking her long, silken whiskers. “I might have put them underneath the rock that looks like a pine cone, or I might have hid them in that old hollow tree.”
Well, when one of the animal people goes looking into might-be places, it's only a matter of time before they find one of the Old Ones. That is exactly what happened to Mouse.
As Mouse carefully rolled back the pinecone-stone, she was surprised to find a giant seed underneath. Now, Mouse wasn't the smartest mouse but she was a thoughtful young mouse and she knew most of the plant people and their seeds, and she had never seen a seed like this one before. Twitching her nose and wriggling her beautiful whiskers, she walked around it a few times. Then, cautiously for she was also a careful mouse, she rapped on the seed three times with her dainty paw. One time for the clouds in the sky, one time for droplets in the sea, and one time for the rocks in the earth.
At first, the seed just sat there. Then it began to vibrate. Mouse took a step backward but she didn't run, not yet. Her curiosity was too strong. Finally, the seed split open and out stepped one of the Old Ones.
Now, Mouse had heard of the Old Ones but she had never met one, but she knew enough to recognize the figure that stood before her with his nut-brown skin, bark clothing, and mossy hair. She also knew enough to be cautious. The Old Ones weren't to be trusted, except for when they were, and a little mouse like herself could never be sure when was which. So she cocked her head to the side and waited silently, her intelligent black eyes peering pertly at the Old One as he dusted himself off much more energetically than what was required.
After a few moments he finally noticed Mouse. “Hmmph! So, what do you want? Why did you knock on my place? Hmm? Hmm? Hmm?!” On the third Hmm, he stamped his feet petulantly and seemed to grow three times taller.
Mouse refused to be intimidated. Instead, she drew herself up to her own full albeit diminutive height, but she still bowed her head respectfully. She wasn't the smartest mouse, but she was sometimes wise. “Oh Old One, I didn't know that seed was your place or I wouldn't have disturbed your much deserved rest.”
The Old One seemed mollified. The animal people knew that the Old Ones like to feel respected. “That's fine then, but it still doesn't tell me why you were there in the first place.”
“I was looking for my seeds. I looked where they should be, but they weren't there. Then I looked where they might be, and all I found was your place. So I thought they may be inside, but when I knocked there were no seeds. I apologize for disturbing you.”
The Old One shrank back down so he could be eye-to-eye with Mouse. “I see, I see, you want some seeds?” He spun around, laughing gleefully, “I have all the seeds that have ever been and all the seeds that ever might be! I will share them with you,” he stopped spinning, suddenly serious, “for a price, of course.”
Mouse said nothing. All the seeds that might be? That would be an awful lot of seeds indeed. She thought of all the other little animal people in the forest. Winter was hard and most of the plant people were asleep, so many bellies went empty. Sometimes all the animals that is suddenly aren't, when there is more cold than food. Mouse wasn't the smartest mouse, but she was a caring mouse. All the seeds that might be could save all the animal people that are.
She made a decision. “What is this price?”
The Old One laughed and laughed. “Why, your beautiful whiskers, of course, what a wonderful scarf they would make! When they are white with age, I will return for them. Until then, take this.” He rapped on the split open seed husk three times, once for the clouds, once for the droplets, and one more time for the rocks. It turned into a small glass pebble. He handed it to Mouse. “This key will take you to any might-be place that may ever be. Take what you want, but be careful. Once something is taken from a might-be place, then it simply is. Things that is can't be gotten rid of easily.”
In this time, the time before the two-legged people arrived along the northwestern shores, a mouse could live for years and years. Thus did Mouse. She used her glass pebble to open up might-bes for any hungry animal in the forest. These were good years, and the forest grew, the animal people flourished, and the world was peaceful. Mouse grew plump, but not too plump. She also grew smarter, but more importantly, she became ever wiser. Mouse was careful never to open up too many might-be places, because she knew that not every might-be was a happy place. There were might-bes that could destroy as well as those that could feed, after all.
Mouse grew old and her whiskers became white. One day the Old One stepped out from behind a tree while Mouse was grooming her face.
“Hello!” said the Old One, “It is time to pay the price, for your beautiful whiskers are now even more impressive with their snowy wisdom.”
Now, Mouse was an honest mouse and mouse was an honorable mouse, but she was also a pragmatic mouse. She had learned a lot about the might-be places and she knew there were might-bes that would happen whether she wanted them to or not. She had seen what would happen when the two-legged people eventually came, and she worried about her friends in the forest. Mouse had a plan.
“I knew you would be here soon. Please, sit down. I am just going to fetch a blade so that you can cut my whiskers without causing me too great of pain.” The Old One sat, pleased that Mouse was being so helpful. Mouse went into her little burrow hole and fetched the little pebble. She rapped it three times on the ground, once for the clouds, again for the droplets, and finally for the rocks. A little door appeared, and Mouse opened it and reached inside. Out came what she needed – two halves of a large seed.
Mouse gathered these up and stepped outside. The Old One remained seated, his back to her. Mouse crept up behind him as quiet as could be. SNAP! She brought the two seed halves together and trapped the Old One inside.
“Ow, hey! Let me out!” cried the Old One, for once he was trapped inside he couldn't escape until Mouse knocked three times. “You owe me, fair and square! I thought you were an honorable mouse!”
“I am,” said Mouse as she carefully begun plucking out her beautiful white whiskers, “and I will be giving you my whiskers soon, just as I promised.”
“Then why have you trapped me in here?” the Old One whined.
“I have looked in many might-be places, and helped many of the animal people and the plant people with what I have found, but everything I have found has not been good,” Mouse paused, gazing into the distance with her wise eyes, “a new people with only two legs are coming, wave after wave of them. They won't stay in the might-be places so the places that are must prepare for them. I must prepare for them.”
The seed shook, as if angry, “what does that have to do with me?”
Mouse sighed, “nothing really, but I would ask a boon. Please, make me a might-be that must-be. Let me protect the animal people and the plant people, and maybe even some of the two-legged people because they aren't all bad. If you do so, I will release you from the seed and give you my beautiful whiskers to do with as you please.”
The Old One knew that he had little choice, but he wasn't happy about it. The seed rolled forward then backward as the Old One thought and thought. Finally, he reached a decision. “Fine. I shall do as you ask. But you will henceforth not be of any of the places that is or any of the places that might be. Instead, you are of the places that must be but aren't. You will be the largest of the animal people but also you could be a two-legged people, yet none of the people will ever be quite sure if you even are. You will be an in-between people. From there you must watch and you must guide, protect, and heal, but you won't ever quite be.”
Mouse thought long and hard, her wise gaze taking in everything around her. She would give up much, and she would be giving it up forever, but at least she could protect all of the people are and that will be. “Fine,” she finally said. Then she rapped on the seed three times.
Out came the Old One, looking put out. He greedily scooped up her beautiful white whiskers, tucking them under his arm. Then he gazed long and hard at Mouse.
At first, nothing happened. Then Mouse felt herself stretching and growing. Soon she stood tall, on two legs, but these two legs were still covered in her satiny brown fur. So were her arms and torso and face, although the latter had flattened considerably. She looked down at the Old One, who was now just a tiny speck on the ground below, no bigger than the toe on her big foot.
The Old One wasn't cruel at heart, so he gave her a companion, and soon there were other big-footed people in the forest. The animal people and the plant people would see them sometimes, blowing away the ice from a robin's nest or carefully covering a fox's den to protect the young kits inside. Sometimes they would hear the ghostly calls of the big-footed ones, and they knew these were warnings of danger so they would stay safely in their dens and their nests.
Yet none of the animal people or the plant people could ever quite catch the bigfoots in conversation, and they could only see them from the corner of their eyes. Yet, there they are to this day, not might-bes but must-bes, in between people, protecting the forest and all the people as best they can.