Noble Blood Line
A story in two posts
On the day that he died, the little mouse woke up earlier than usual, came out of his hole almost at once, and began sniffing here and there in the grass for any signs of food. It was well into spring, the first one this particular mouse had ever seen. He had never known that his world could turn into so many shades of green, blues, violets, yellows, and other beautiful colors. He had only known white, and felt cold. It had always been winter for him.
A few weeks ago, the mouse noticed that the white stuff the world was made of was slowly disappearing and turning into water. He had been watching this transformation and he liked it. Of course not being a talking mouse he had done and felt everything by instinct. He began to emerge from his hole when dry warm air suddenly began to blow. It was a delicious air.
One night, nearly dawn but not quite, he woke up instinctively and went out of his little hole. Everything was still dark and it was cold outside. The mouse felt the urge to travel to that one place made out of stone because his instinct was telling him to go there. Of course he was scared because at that hour he would be very vulnerable to night predators. But this urge to go to that stone place was greater than his fears. Years of surviving had taught him to always travel in group, so he went to his neighbor’s holes and woke many of them also. They did not understand what was happening but deep down their own instinct told them they had to follow this one mouse. And so they all did.
When they arrived to the stone place, they saw two humans crying over some dead animal. They had never seen an animal like this before, huge and majestic looking, even in death, but the mice somehow understood that this dead animal was the key to their survival. At first the mouse leader did not know what to do, but was at least intelligent enough to observe the two humans trying to “gnaw” (as he saw it) at the cords which this dead animal had been tied with. And so he and the other mice decided to help. When the last cord was cut, they all scurried back to their little holes as fast as they could.
Now weeks later, the one time leader of the gnawers was taking his walk down the meadow and, somehow, in his own mouse way, was thinking about that one scary night. And he got careless. By the time he saw the bird-shaped shadow suddenly appear where he was, it was too late. His world went black.
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The blackness however didn’t last too long. It seemed a momentary thing, as if he had merely blinked his eyes. Then he found himself in what appeared to be his country, with the greens and violets and all the other colors as before, except now they seemed pure and impossibly bright, almost alive.
But the wonder of wonders was that all of a sudden, the mouse understood. He knew. At this moment, he even realized that he had a name. Somehow he had become a sentient being, a talking animal. But the wonders didn’t cease there, because as he was marveling at his new understanding, a bright creature, more beautiful than the shining sun, was approaching him. He immediately recognized this creature as the “dead animal” he had helped untie long ago. He tried to do or say something but he couldn’t because at that moment he also knew who this animal was. It was his King, His Saviour and the Maker of his world and this world. He lowered his head and a torrent of thoughts and a myriad of words came to his new mind. Of those words, he could only utter two:
“Dear Aslan.”
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