the fox and the field mouseOnce upon a time, there was a lonely little field mouse living in a city on the sea.
The city was dark, dank, and deeply sick. Whenever the little mouse went out, all she heard was a choir of coughs echoing from every building. The gas lamps never seemed to work anymore.
One day, an elegant red fox arrived in town: he was sharp-witted, and an outsider, just like the mouse. The fox said it was his duty to try and cure the city of its sickness. Dutifully, the little mouse helped him. They fell in love.
The fox disappeared one night. He had gone up into the attic, into a mysterious glowing mirror, and vanished. The mouse tried to look for him, but he was nowhere to be found. She returned home and curled up in bed, and cried herself to sleep.
Days, perhaps weeks, passed. Time seemed to stretch on forever, and the little mouse used the mirror in the attic to traverse the town when she was not sleeping. The city was strangely empty now. Not a sound could be heard.
The mouse awoke one night to find her head filled with whispers. When she left her room, the mirror in the attic was glowing a swirling purple. It seemed to beckon her. So up to the attic she went.
When she entered the mirror, it was no longer a gate to other parts of the city, but a single, narrow corridor. The walls were stone and graced with dark creeping ivy. Candles lit the way forward. The little mouse treaded carefully.
The corridor opened into an ornate room. Large portraits hung on the walls; a deep red Turkish rug covered the floor. A roaring fire lit the room, and sitting in a massive burgundy chair was the fox she loved.
His eyes, once emerald green, now glowed the same purple as the mirror. Fear gripped the little mouse's heart. "What have you done?" she asked.
The fox stood and held out his hands, ignoring her question. "My sweetest one," he said, "come here. Won't you?"
The little mouse did not know if this was truly her beloved fox or not. But the corridor behind her had vanished. What choice did she have? Gingerly, she approached, and when she touched his hands, she knew that this was, indeed, her darling fox.
"What have you done?" she repeated.
"I've discovered the cure for the city," he replied. The fox squeezed her hands, and the little mouse felt his sharp claws and smelled the blood on them. "Haven't you noticed the silence?"
A chill went down the mouse's spine.
"They were wretched, every one. I've simply saved them." The fox leaned down, and the firelight danced off his ivory fangs. "I was shown the way."
"By whom?"
"By the sickness itself." The fox petted her cheek. Despite the venom in his veins, he was still loving to his little mouse. How could he not be? She was the one good thing left in the city. "Let me show you."
The mouse hesitated. Sensing her doubt, the fox asked, "Don't you trust me?"
The little mouse looked up into his face; except for the eyes which glinted like amethysts, it was the same kind face she had grown to love. "With my life," she replied.
The fox grinned. In spite of his sharp teeth, the little mouse felt safe. An odd sense of calm washed over her.
"Then come with me, little mouse." A mirror, obscured by the darkness in the corner, lit up. "Be my cure."
Into shadows, the fox and field mouse vanished.