(Links to book below.)
The
banished mousemaids, Aster and Thistle, made do in the little grove
of trees amidst the sea of grass in the neighboring field. There, the
two mice had weathered much of the drought, surviving on bitter grass
seeds and last year’s dried rose hips that still clung to some of
the wild rosebushes.
Aster
had ignored the signs of drought. Upon entering the grove, the two
mousemaids had discovered a little pool of water trapped beneath a
limestone outcropping. Instead of rationing it, Aster had drunk the
water greedily. She hadn't counted on Thistle drinking as often as
her, given her complaints about conserving water. And now they were
in a fix.
As
she slurped the last few drops of water from the stone pool without
offering any to Thistle, she carelessly wiped her whiskers and
belched loudly. Thistle shot Aster a look of disdain, which Aster
returned.
“What’re
we going to do now?” Thistle asked. “That was the last of the water.”
“Obviously.”
“Well?
What’re we going to do?”
“We’re
going to shut up and think, that’s what we’re going to do,”
Aster replied, glaring.
She
watched the stocky mousemaid turn her body away from her and slump in
her usual pout. Aster sneered. Stupid fat mouse.
“We
could go look for the Fray,” Thistle said at last.
Aster
scoffed. “I
ain’t going to look for it. I don’t want nothing to do with
Evershade or
its water.”
“Well,
I don’t want to die of thirst,” Thistle retorted.
“You
go by yourself, then, and see how long you last without me.”
“Without
you?
You’re the one that got me in this mess!”
“Me?
You tricked that timid little ghost of a mouse just as much as I did!
Blame Roan, if you want to blame someone. He
banished us. Or blame the king. He told
Roan to banish us!” Aster spat back.
Thistle
shook her head and buried her face in her paws.
“Those
goody-goodies, thinking they’re all peaceful and perfect. They’re
just a bunch of cowards. Especially that snail.
Hiding in his tree, showing his face once or twice a season. He
shouldn’t even be
king! He can’t run or climb like us. He can’t even gather food.
He can barely move at all!” she snarled.
The
lanky mousemaid sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the
harsh voices of the crows across the field. Their croaks and caws
pierced the thick, humid air. Aster shifted her weight and peered
through the undergrowth in the direction of their noisy chatter.
At
the end of the field to the east rose up a dark forest of slender,
closely packed trees. They towered tall and gangly over the yellow
grass that separated them from the little grove where the mousemaids
sat. Aster stood and walked to the edge of the grove, gazing out
across the field at the forest beyond.
“The
Crow Kingdom,” she mumbled. She had always heard talk of the Crow
Kingdom, but she had never actually seen it.
Aster
studied the black trees in the distance, transfixed by the plan
hatching in her head. Somewhere in her mind she noticed that Thistle
had followed her to the edge of the little grove and now stood
looking at her. Aster turned and leveled her gaze on the short, ugly
mouse, a malicious smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she
sized up her follower.
A
most disturbing scheme to exact her revenge on Evershade and its
goody-goody inhabitants seeped into the darkest corners of Aster’s
mind like a disease. She turned away from Thistle and stood frozen in
place in a sort of trance, eyes hardened, a wicked grin morphing her
features into the face of absolute evil. The crows were the answer.
They had been the answer all along—she had just been too dim to
notice. But would they listen to her? She sneered.
Thistle
and Willow and that little ghost mouse listened to me. Surely a bunch
of dumb birds will be no trouble.
Aster
stood taller, puffed up with her own sense of superiority.
Yes,
they will
listen to me. And the community of Evershade will be brought to its
knees.
Such lessons to be learned....Who you associate with really matters in life.
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