Bell Ringer
Chapter 1
It was the early days of the spring of chestnuts, when the sun reached its zenith, casting its golden rays upon the blooming earth, an early-spring day unveiled itself upon the Vermorrian Flatlands. The zephyrs whispered gently, caressing the land with a tender touch. The air, cool and invigorating, mingled with the scent of new beginnings. Like a shy performer peeking from behind a veil, the sun emerged from its cloudy curtain, bestowing its warm glow upon the world. Across the vast expanse, fields stretched like a patchwork quilt, prepared for the planting season.
Amidst this picturesque scene, a little, golden-brown furred mouse-pup, ventured forth. She was adorned in a tunic of vibrant yellow, worn and well-loved, its hem reaching just past her knee. A small piece of cheesecloth graced her head, with her ears playfully poking through, serving as a charming head covering. She further donned an old apron, decorated with a delightful pattern of flowers, tied around her neck, resembling a capacious cape. With the grace of youth and the wonder of innocence, she pursued a butterfly, dancing through the meadow and up a nearby hill, drawing closer to the edge overlooking her humble abode and the fields that sustained her kin. At this precipice, she came to a halt, her gaze fixed upon the grandeur that unfolded before her, enraptured by the vastness and majesty of the world beyond. It was a moment filled with awe, as she took in the world before her.
“Ruuna, Honey? Come down now. It’s time to munch.”
A motherly voice called, as it carried through the wind.
“Oi! I’ll be down in an instant!” Young Ruuna’s childish voice replied playfully.
“Alright, don’t be late. I fear our fare might cool soon.” The young mum warned before going back inside.
“Right. Mr. Butterfly, I’m going to go home now and munch! I’ll be back after, I promise!”
Ruuna told her little fluttery friend before running back toward her home. Descending the grassy slopes of the cliffside hill, the young mouse-pup’s keen eyes, shining orbs of deep orange, soon alighted upon distant figures working in the fields. Her father, accompanied by two other beings, one of whom she recognized as her dear sister, and the other, a trusted companion of their family, toiled diligently, guiding a sturdy sleigh that assiduously ploughed the fertile fields. She enthusiastically waved her paw to them.
“Oi, Rosalind! Dada! I’m going home to feast now!”
She called with her paws cupped around her mouth. The distant figures stood and waved back confirming to her that she was heard. A joyous smile blossomed upon her visage and a delightful giggle escaped her lips, carrying with it the innocent mirth that danced within her heart. Remembering she was hungry, she continued traversing the path leading her back home, eager to partake in her mum’s home-made feast.
In the sloping grassy backyard, nestled behind the weathered farmhouse adorned with hues of blue and brown, a picturesque scene unfolded. Spread out upon a checkered blanket, an idyllic afternoon picnic awaited, betwixt the dwelling and the aged, partially empty woodshed.
At the epicentre of this culinary marvel, resided a large wooden bowl brimming with a delicious spring salad. Within its verdant depths, a medley of vibrant radishes, purple and golden carrots, luscious early lettuce, and hearty chestnuts intertwined, creating a tapestry of flavours. Seasoned artfully with an assortment of herbs and an array of other nuts, it promised a delightful symphony of textures, the crunchiness of the early root-vegetables marrying harmoniously with the nutty undertones.
Adjacent to this verdant masterpiece, Mum’s renowned baked potatoes graced a grand plate. Meticulously prepared, they were lovingly mashed and infused with fragrant herbs, chives, and rich butter, resulting in a velvety indulgence that would surely enchant the taste buds.
Furthermore, slices of fresh, warm bread beckoned, their golden crusts inviting one to partake in their simple yet comforting embrace. And to wash away the delectable fare, a sweet elixir of strawberry cordial stood ready, its ruby hue glimmering enticingly in the sunlight. The very essence of this feast filled the air, it could even bring the imaginary rock-giant out from hiding in the distant mountains; Ruuna thought as she approached.
“Mum, the fare smells so good! Are we having friends over?”
Ruuna asked as she opened and went through the yard gate, forgetting to close it.
“Yes, Harriet is coming over. Oh, mind the gate honey, lest we want the beetles to invade our feast.”
The young mouse wife said reminding her young, sometimes forgetful daughter to keep the gate closed. Ruuna stopped and turned to see that the gate was indeed still open, swaying in a stray gust. In a huff, she tottered over to close it again. Amidst a gentle squeak and a melodic clatter, the weathered wooden gate trembled, finding its place as it closed and secured itself.
“Right. Oh! Does that mean Dilly is coming over too?” Ruuna asked excitedly.
Swift as a dragonfly, Ruuna darted forth, eager to lend a helping paw with the cutlery her mum was carrying.
“Umm-hmm! I invited Harriet over as thanks for assisting to till the fields this year. And I inquired if Dilly, too, desired to join. She said that she was more than happy to tag along to see you.”
Unable to contain her growing enthusiasm, Ruuna wagged her tail with excitement, her tiny frame trembling with delight.
“We must be good until they arrive, and that means carefully helping me spread these utensils for our guests.”
“Right!”
Ruuna resolved, barely able to contain her excitement.
“Oh, I hope they get here soon! I want Dilly to meets Mr. Butterfly!” Ruuna giggled as she spoke.
“Mr. butterfly? Is this a new friend you’ve made?”
Ruuna nodded eagerly, excited to share about her adventures with the mysterious fluttering friend.
“Where is he now? Is he out in the fields helping to till?”
“No, he’s up there! Atop the cliff!”
Ruuna replied as she pointed up to where she had been playing before.
“Well, maybe he will fly down for a nice, afternoon splash of strawberry cordial.”
“Don’t be silly, mum! Butterflies can’t have cordial.”
The mouse mum entertained the idea as she poured a beaker to drink.
“Oh, why not?”
“Because it would make their bellies big and plump, and they’d be too heavy to fly!” Ruuna explained rather seriously.
Her mum nearly sprayed her cordial everywhere as she laughed at the idea of seeing a big plump butterfly struggling to flutter in the sky. As they awaited the arrival of their esteemed guests, the two mice, mother, and pup, engaged in a delightful exchange of words, their banter weaving a tapestry of laughter and affection.
-
Several hundred paces away, perched upon the gentle rise of a sprawling meadow, a figure emerged, casting a shadow against the horizon. He stood diminutive in stature, reminiscent of a gopher, wearied by the arduous passage of three sunsets over treacherous terrain. Gaunt and emaciated, his slender frame spoke of a prolonged hunger that had endured for what felt like endless seasons, yet his round potbellied gut aimed to dispute that idea.
The creature’s beard, though modest in size, appeared encrusted with twigs, mud, and the detritus accumulated since his last washing, though who knows how long ago that was. The remainder of his fur bore the marks of filth and grime, mirroring the mud-stained trousers and leather waistcoat he wore. Upon reaching the summit, he halted, allowing the refreshing zephyr to caress his countenance, while surveying the panorama that unfolded before his gaze. With a deliberate sweep from left to right, a sight ensnared his attention—a timeworn farmhouse, its form discernible in the distance.
“Ah, finally, someplace a beast can get some grub to fill his poor, empty gut. (chuckle)”
He reached down to his belt and with nimble paws, unfastened the tether that held his trusty, weather-beaten water bladder. The last remnants of precious liquid met his parched lips, quenching his thirst with each hearty gulp. Soon, the sack was empty; and he wiped his face with his arm as he cast the sack off to his side. Drawing in a deep breath, he expelled it with a resolute grunt, determined to press on toward his new destination.
As the sun shifted into cloudy skies, Ruuna’s patience began to wane, her anticipation mingling with an undercurrent of unease. The arrival of Dilly and her devoted mother seemed to be delayed, causing her heart to beat with a restless rhythm. Observing her anxious pup, Lilac thought up some words of encouragement.
“Darling, why don’t you meet with Mr. butterfly atop the hill where you were playing before? See if you two could spot Dilly and her mum coming?”
Lilac suggested as her daughter produced an almost worried but serious look on her face. Dilly had never been late for anything; Ruuna thought. What could be keeping her from Mum’s great spring picnic? With a stress like that of a bolder weighing on her chest, she only murmured one word as she got up to leave for the cliff-top hill.
“Ok…”
“Beware aloft, my child. I wouldn’t want you to stumble and get hurt.”
Lilac’s words were wise ones, but they seemed uneased yet concerned, though they appeared to graze Ruuna’s ears, barely registering in her troubled mind. Unfazed by the fading echoes of her mother’s counsel, the young mouse passed through the creaking wooden gate, retracing her steps toward the hill where she had frolicked and revelled in mirthful play. Yet, the spectre of unease persisted, clinging to both mum and pup like the morning mist to the verdant meadows. Lilac stayed at the picnic, watching her child hike back up the hill, as an ominous silhouette approached the homestead. Lilac noticed the shadow and turned to meet who it was that had approached, though the sun made it difficult to identify the beast.
“Hmm?”
“Nice day for a picnic, eh marm? Got any vittles to spare a beast in his plight?”
Had her husband been with her, Lilac would have told the beast to turn tail and leave, but she was alone in this moment. Biding time in case Brian should come, she maintained a kind demeanour in the gopher’s company.
“Oh… I suppose I could spare some mash, and a scoup of salad…”
A deceiving smile grew on the creature’s visage, baring the freshly missing fang in his upper jaw, as he took this opportunity to take new previsions, and perhaps something more.
-
With determination filling her every step, Ruuna trudged up hill to the clifftop crest in order to meet Mr. Butterfly. The capricious wind, now playing a sporadic symphony, hinted at approaching clouds that loomed ominously on the horizon, their advance palpable to her discerning gaze. A disconcerting tremor coursed through her being, causing her fur to bristle and her heart to quicken its beat. A tightness and sensation of doom settled upon her chest like a leaden weight, foretelling of impending peril.
The final strides, burdened by apprehension, elongated into an eternity. But when she reached the summit, her searching eyes met only emptiness.
“Mr. Butterfly? Are you there?”
But Ruuna’s voice seemed lost only to the winds. A stray breath swept over the crest, causing Ruuna’s form to shudder involuntarily, while her cape fluttered in wild disarray. In the tempest’s embrace, her cheesecloth headpiece was snatched away, stolen by the unpredictable breeze, vanishing into the realms of oblivion. A sense of loss tugged at her heartstrings as she turned in a futile attempt to reclaim what was now lost forever.
“No! My do-rag… I’m sorry Mum.”
A surge of melancholy welled within her, threatening to spill forth as teardrops pooled in her glistening eyes. The spectre of doom loomed, its grip tightening upon her fragile spirit. Drawn by an insatiable yearning for solace and companionship, she approached the very edge of the cliff, straining her gaze to discern any sign of Dilly or her caring mother, Harriet. Alas, the vista revealed naught but vast expanses of fenced fields, extending as far as the eye could see. Even her father’s presence eluded her sight, lost amidst the white curtains of mists throughout the valley.
The storm inched closer, heralding its approach with a gentle drizzle that whispered of the torrential downpour yet to come. Amidst this tumultuous backdrop, a scent, borne upon the capricious wind, caught Ruuna’s attention—an elusive whiff of smoke. Intrigued, she endeavoured to trace its origin, cautiously inching closer to the perilous precipice. Yet, as realization dawned upon her, fear surged forth, threatening to engulf her very being. The smoke, the harbinger of destruction, emanated from her cherished abode, casting its menacing pall over the haven she held dear! A voice cut through the wind, with anger and greed as it’s defining note, though it was swiftly deafened by the harsh breeze of the encroaching thunderstorm.
“OW! You wh-”
Ruuna didn’t recognize this voice.
“Dada?”
He never gets angry, like Dilly’s father does sometimes, right?
Agitated by a maelstrom of emotions, Ruuna grappled with her predicament, cognizant of the urgency that demanded action. Yet, in the face of an inferno engulfing her humble abode, with her parents absent from sight, doubt clung to her like a shadow. What could a diminutive mouse-pup hope to accomplish amidst the tempestuous fury of a storm? Yearning for the reassuring presence of Dilly or the enigmatic Mr. Butterfly, she sought solace in their imagined support.
And then, amidst the chaos, a figure materialized, emerging from the very threshold of her smouldering home. The silhouette paused in his tracks, causing Ruuna to instinctively lower her head and stiffen, she was now fear ridden and unable to move. The identity of this intruder eluded her, but her instincts warned of potential danger if discovered. Holding her breath with battered hope, she strained her ears, but the whooshing of the gusting wind and the gentle patter of raindrops drowned out any telltale signs. Moments stretched like eternity as Ruuna cautiously raised her head, only to find an empty path leading to her ajar back door. Looking left then right, she held her paws close to her, hoping that a saving grace would befall her, but alas, no such thing came. Looking down, she realized it was up to her to get home and put the blaze out.
“Only way back is down now…”
It would not be an easy descent. Gathering courage, despite her mother’s previous admonitions, Ruuna straddled the crag’s edge to confront the enigma that awaited within.
Nervously, she propelled herself over the precipice, her tiny form shuffling downward along the treacherous cliffside. The slick rocks soon betrayed her footing, and she found herself slipping uncontrollably. Panic surged within her, her velocity increasing with each passing moment. Desperation gripped her as she attempted to anchor her claws into the unforgiving stone, scratching and scraping painfully, but her efforts proved futile. Helpless and fear ridden, she closed her eyes, surrendering to the unknown, praying that this wouldn’t be her final cry:
“Aahhh! Uf! Ughf!”
She screamed then gasped, muffled, and squeaked as she tumbled, bounced, and somersaulted off the rocky cliff-face, her tiny frame at the mercy of gravity.
Eventually, she reached the perilous bottom where she uncurled and skidded to a halt, her stomach pressed against the damp grass. The impact was hard. There was a moment’s quiet as Ruuna lay, enveloped in the cool wetness of the grass. Soon, she gradually opened her eyes, only to be greeted by a brilliant spectacle—the heavens unleashed a fierce bolt of lightning, striking the earth with a great white flash. It seemed so near, but the lack of any sound meant it had to have been at least a good hour’s walk away, yet as soon as it had stricken, it had disappeared into the atmosphere. Still disoriented, Ruuna was left puzzled, as she waited for the sound to reach her.
Naught but only a few seconds later, the thunder boomed forth with a loud rolling -RumbLE!–
Overwhelmed by the deafening tumult, Ruuna instinctively covered her ears and screamed in terror, desperately shielding herself from the assaulting roar, seeking to preserve her fragile sense of hearing. The sound reverberated through the vast expanse, as rain cascaded in torrents, as if commanded by the thunder’s orchestration. Gradually, the thunderous symphony subsided, leaving behind naught but the relentless howl of wind and the steady drumming of raindrops.
With paws weakened and battered, her eyes filled with tears, and her voice strained and weary, she summoned the strength to push herself upright. Sniffles mingled with painful gasps; reminders of the tribulations endured.
“Mumma? Dada? Please…” But only the pounding rains and gusting winds answered the call.
The hurt mouse pup took several steps toward the burning house, she began to cry along with the gloomy zephyrs when she realized that her Mum and Dada were nowhere to be found. Ruuna, in her weakened state, sank into a seated position, seeking solace and a modicum of comfort. Her tail instinctively coiled around her ankles, an attempt to find relief and stillness within herself. Alas, the soothing effect she yearned for, proved elusive, failing to quell the storm of emotions raging within her.
“I’m scared…”
She continued as she sat and tightly held her legs, her snout concealed within her lap, while the rain continued its ceaseless cascade. 'Twas a saddened moment indeed, as she shed helpless tears for many a minute. Soon, blackness enveloped her as she succumbed to a lonesome, unconscious embrace.