Silvermoss

“Mum, Mum, get up! It’s championsday,” the young mouse screeched,as she ruffledher mother’s tiny pillow, demandingher out of bed.

“Morning then, Missy,” The greyer and much less bouncy mouse yawned as her duvet was pulledaway from her.

“Look, Mum. It’s snowed!It’s snowed! It’s snowed!” Missy beamed, glaringout the tiny window, examiningthe newly paintedSilvermoss forest.

Missy and her motherlived in a small woven hut, no bigger than a picnicbasket. However, it had more space now that Missy’seleven older siblingshad all moved out. Some of her brothers and sisters lived in littlehuts close to home, while most lived in the distant forest,but it was Barney she admired most. Journeying with his badgerand rabbit mates,Barney had left Silvermoss to explore the wider realm.Like Barney, Missy always wantedmore than the normal life of a mouse.

“Wow, that’sthe deepest snow I’ve ever seen!” Missy chirped as she draggedher mother over for a look.

Opening the window, her quick and excited breathfogged the winterwonderland. A land once filledwith thick green trees, sloppybrown mud, and dull blue skies, now sparkled with soft white snow. The usual reek of damp moss was gone, and a delightfulfreshness had infusedinto the breeze.The scattered huts now carriedfrozen coats, and the groundroots were carpetedwith icy sheets.

“It shouldn’timpact the games,should it?” Missy asked in a deeplyconcerned tone.

Finally old enough to have enteredherself in this year’s competition,Missy had every intention of becoming the next Silvermosschampion. Each winter,around forty of the most athletic animalsin the camp enter the competition for the chanceto win the victor’s stump.A giant oak stump, no different from any other,only the simpledesire to be won.

“I wouldn’tworry, dear, these games happenevery year,” Her mother reassuredin a gentleand calming manner,whilst lifting an extra layer of warmtharound Missy’s small frame.

“Yeah, yeah… good,” Missy agreed, as her circularears twitched at the distantnoise. “Quick, Mum, we need to head down to the campfire.I can see my friendsarriving.”

With her patience runningthin, Missy grabbedher mother by her frayedcardigan and pulledher out their arched door. Unable to find their usual path, they each grabbed an old piece of bark and sledgedquickly down to the camp’scentre. Coming to a halt, they stoppedclose beside Amis, the Silvermosschief, who was gathering animalsto come close.

On the outside, Amis was a rugged-looking, single-tuskedboar, whose dark and gristlyhair could be used to light a fire match.However, on the inside, he was a kind, gentle,and loving creature.

“Please, can the forty-fourcompetitors gather round?”Amis called loudlyand clearly throughthe chilled trees,excited to begin the competition.“Oh, and pleasedo watch out for the rocks hidingbeneath the snow.”

Staring at the glitteryfloor, the troublingwords kept playingin her mind as realityset in. Forty-fourcompetitors.

From nowhere,what seemed like every Silvermossgiant appeared in the camp centre, each leaving varying-sizedfootprints in the snow. Ten wolves, nine grizzly bears,eight black bears,six horses, six stags, four foxes and one tiny mouse. Like a leaf waiting to be trampledon, Missy dartedbetween the paws, claws, and hooves.

In the growing anticipation,a great crowd had formed,with each animalexpressing their own style of excitement. Bunnieshopped, ravens croaked,chipmunks squeaked, and despite the bitter chill,the camp was filled with a warm sense of joy.

Not being one for dawdling, Amis placed himselfatop the victor’sstump and oinkedthe animals into silence. “Welcome,welcome everyone. I hope you are all managing in the cold weather.”

Adrenalin pumpingfrom ears to tail and her thick white fur keeping her insulated, Missy hadn’t felt the cold in the slightest.

“My friends,without further ado, let’s head into our first game,”Amis announced, with his tusk raised high in the air.

With a clear understandingof how the annual competitionworked, the crowd retreated to the treelineand formed a wonky circle.With her paws on her hips, Missy became visibleto all, and despite an avalanche of giggles, she stayed focused.

“Just stay out of my way, you littlesnowball,” Tywit laughed.A charcoal black wolf that appeared to have twice the muscleof any other wolf in his pack. “Wouldn’t wanna step on ya.”

Keeping her attention on the stump,Missy smiled throughthe mockery, waved to the crowd.

“Everybody, I’ve invented a new game to begin this year’scompetition,” Amis said with a cheeky grin. “Welcoming our good friendRegi, I would like to introduce ExtremePinata.”

The crowd howled, chirpedand neighed, all eager to hear more, whilst the forty-four competitorsstood like soldiersawaiting instruction.

Regi! He must be joking,thought Missy with raised ears.

The largesthorse in all Silvermoss enteredthe distorted arena,placing a barrelledbucket at the base of the victor’sstump. The great,golden-brown stallion, whose usual characterwas stern and disciplined, now appeared full of joy and humour,as he playfullytrotted around in the snow.

“To proceedto the next round, you will have sixty secondsto knock a single piece of fruit off Regi’sframe.”

Roars of laughter eruptedthroughout the crowd as they each gazed upon a once-in-a-lifetime view. Tight vines wrapped aroundRegi’s frame, each holding a mixture of colourful fruits.Apples, grapes and plums, now a ticketto the next game.

Missy staredat a delicious-looking apple.I just need one.

“Go!” Amis shouted, withoutany warning or countdown.

Forty-three competitorsscrambled past each other, each acting as a shovelto the snow, all chargingtowards the ridiculous-looking horse.An uneven path was created,revealing frozen mud and hiddenrocks. Pure chaos.Fur, antler and tails, entwinedtogether, all divingtowards the live piñata.

“Fifty seconds!”Amis yelled above the rush.

Clueless, behind,and with an urgent desireto come up with a plan, Missy stared at her fellowcompetitors grabbing their fruit tickets.

“Thirty seconds!”

Without much thinking, Missy quickly grabbedthe end of a large twig. Strugglingwith its weight,unable to see any fruit,and almost out of time, she did the only thing she could. Charge.Despite the heavinessin her paws, the path was clear,and her sprintwas fast.

“Fifteen seconds!”

Jamming the twigs' end in the crevice of a jaggedrock, she launchedherself into the air. Airbourneand completely out of control,she fastened her tail and winced for a crash landing. THUD. Something green smacked Missy in the face and sent her flying into the thick snow.

“Five, four, three, two…”

Lying in the snow, dizzy and bewildered, a single green grape rolledto her side. Forgetting the pain in her head, her heart leapt with joy.

“One!” Amis called, endingthe game and ushering the competitors to gather close.“If you have gained an item of fruit, pleaseplace it in this bucket.Oh, and of course, can everyone give a huge cheer for Regi’s willingparticipation.” Bruised and broken, Regi was welcomedback into the crowd with a huge smile on his face.

Surprising everyone,with cheeks full of glee, Missy stood with the twenty-four successfulcompetitors who had each placedtheir fruit into the bucket.Cheered for their efforts, the twenty unsuccessfulcompetitors retreated to their friendsand families, each disheartened with the result.

“Before we are to being our next game, I need the remainingcompetitors in heightorder,” Amis requested,wasting no time, as his words organisedthe competitors and silenced the crowd.

“You must be joking,”Missy muttered under her breath,knowing she would likely be put at a disadvantage.

Without confusionor fuss, Missy grumpily placedherself beside the smallest fox. The seven wolves, five grizzly bears,four black bears,three stags, two horses, and two foxes that remained,chaotically spread out, each stretchingtheir necks higherthan the other.Meanwhile, the stags argued that their antlerscounted as part of their height and eventually placedthemselves in a fair order.

“Please rememberyour berry,” Amis notified as he trottedto the tallerend of the line. “Blueberry,raspberry, blueberry, raspberry…”he labelled as his snout pointed at each animal.“And raspberry,” Amis said with concern in his breathas he gave Missy her number.

Becoming somewhatof a hostingassistant, Regi reappearedbeside Amis, carryinga coiled rope on his back.

“In your teams. Blueberriesand Raspberries. You will now partake in a game of tug of war, and the winning team will proceedto the next round,” Amis explained as Regi laid down a branch, highlightingthe centre point and dividingthe slippery ground.“If a singlepaw, claw or hoof steps on the opposition's ground,then your whole team will be out.”

Standing besideher fellow raspberries,each pair of eyes frownedat her, knowingMissy would be nothing be a letdown.Tywit’s glare was the worst,as it was accompanied by a deep growl.

Determined, Missy knew in her heart she could be of some use; the only question was how? With each jaw clamping down on the rope, Missy’seleven teammates readiedthemselves against the larger team of twelve.The floor remainedicy, but the weight, claws,and sturdy hoovesof the giantshad no troublein finding a firm grip.

“Are you ready, Missy?”Amis whispered as he noticedher glaring up at the rope with a blank expression.

“Umm, yeah,”Missy uttered, jumpinghigh onto the readied rope, close besideTywit’s sharp teeth.She steadied herselfas nothing but a dead weight.

Focusing hard on one of her key skills,she reassured herselfwith words. “Balance,just balance,” she mumbled to herself repeatedly.“Balance! That’s it,” Missy announced,louder than she had expected,as a lightbulbflickered on in her head.

“Go!” Amis yelled, beginningthe second game.

The blueberriesgot off to an early start, yankingthe raspberries closerby the second.Missy remained standing,with her paws gripping tightlyon the thick rope.

“Hold it!” Tywit snarledthrough his clenchedjaw, now only a few steps away from the raspberries ground.It was now or never;Missy’s team were seconds away from losing,knocking them out of the final round.

Scurrying at top speed,Missy sprinted acrossthe tense rope and headedtowards the blueberries.Like a bolt of lightning,she jumped from head-to-head, ear-to-ear,antler-to-antler, creating completeconfusion. Eventually, like a fallingline of dominoes,even the largestbear fell to the ground.

Bouncing from competitor to competitor, Missy shot back and landedon her the raspberries side. With the blueberries fumblingon the ground,the raspberries pulledback quickly, regainingground fast, and pulled the entirety of the rope to their side.

“That’s not fair!” one of the black bears shouted above the roaringcrowd whilst thumpingher fists into the snow.

“Yeah, that little mouse came onto our side!”a stag agreedthrough his clenchedteeth.

The frozenforest turned into a heatedjungle. The crowd howled their opinions as the blueberriesand raspberries confrontedone another, all while Missy stood silentlyin the middlewith a small grin, watchingthe mayhem unfold.

Entering the fuss, waddledan old pig, who, withoutword or warning,proceeded to do a monstrousand deafening fart. Even his own tail wanted to escape as it flappedin the stinkybreeze. Covering their noses, every single animalwent silent, not knowing whetherthey should be shocked or concerned.

“Thank you, Higgins,” said Regi, as he somehowmanaged to trot beside the pig. With his nose twitching, Regi’sposture had quicklyreturned to his usual rule-following self. Having the camp's full attention, Regi coughed and cleared his throat as Higgins made his way back througha parting crowd.“The rules clearlystated that if a claw, paw or hoof steps on the opposition's ground,then the whole team are out.”

“Yes, that mouse came on our side,” the stag repeated,as before.

“Yes, yes, correct,” Regi began, makingsure all could hear him. “However, after watching her carefully, at no point did Missy set foot on the blueberries ground.”

Stepping up on the victory stump platform, Amis raised his tusk and announced the results. “Raspberrieswin!”

Missy’s mouth dropped. Not only had she helpedwin the game for her team, but she was in the final twelve.The crowd squeaked,chirped and sang in applause,and through the fur, feathers,and bushy tails,Missy caught sight of her mother proudlywaving her paws. Heading into the final game, Missy now felt confident and stronger than ever. Thiscould be possible,Missy wondered as she watchedthe blueberries grumpilywander back into the comfortingcrowd.

Looking down from the victor’s stump,Amis looked over the final competitors. “My dearest friends,I see it only right that we finish this year’s competitionwith a snow fight.”

Never mind. Missy’s hopes of winningdisappeared like a deflating balloon.What use would her small throws be against bears,wolves and stags?

“This is a game of last animal standing.If you let any snow hit you, you’re out,” Amis explained,loud and clear.

All eager to win, the bears positioned themselvesready to make snow boulders,the wolves readiedtheir paws to swipe icy sheets, and the stags and horsesprepared themselves to flick snow with their hind legs. All but Missy pickedtheir first target.Her little head shifted frantically,quickly looking aroundfor a glimmerof an idea.

“Come on, think,” Missy said to herself as she clutchedher ears in desperation.

“Go!” exclaimedAmis in excitement,far too early for Missy’sliking.

Within a few seconds,the picturesque winterwonderland had transformedinto a frostywarzone. Frozen canon balls, twice the size of Missy,flew in all directions. The deep desireto become Silvermosschampion was becomingincreasingly thin, as an eruptionof snow floodedthe air.

Still short of a plan, Missy skidded throughthe frozen arena,ensuring she was never a stationary target.Adrenalin pumping high, Missy jumped,dived, and twistedher body throughthe firing range,with shots barelymissing her whiskers.With Missy’s white fur coat camouflaging her too well, paws, claws,and hooves came crashing down beside her, completely obliviousthat she was there.

Then, above the crowd’scheers and the competitor's shouting,Missy heard a familiar voice.Her mother’s desperatecry. “The Tree! The Tree!”

A dying sycamore plantedinside the arena,heavily blanketed with its last winter's snow, was only a mouse’sthrow away. Hurryingas quickly as her littlepaws could manage,Missy ran towardsthe refuge. Like her squirrelfriends, she climbedand climbed, each muscle achingincreasingly, as she felt aroundfor secure bark. After a long and tiresome ascent,Missy perched herselfon a snow-filledbranch. Catching her little breath,she gazed upon the blizzardbelow. One by one, Amis called out individual names.

“Benji, out… Lyna, out… Kai, out!”

As the competitors dwindled,the arena's visibilitybecame clearer, and she struggledto believe her eyes. Only three remained.Herself, hidden away in the old sycamore,Milo, the strongestbear in all Silvermoss, and Tywit, lookingmenacing as ever.

At oppositeends of the arena, Milo and Tywit locked their stares upon each other,each positioning themselvesready for attack.Within a few seconds, Milio had gathered,compressed and formeda giant snow boulder. Launchingit with all his might,the boulder whistledthrough the air as it hurtled towardsTywit.

With one swift motion,Tywit skilfully leapt over the threat and began chargingtowards the great bear. In quick preparationfor a secondshot, Milo crouchedto the floor and began gathering the snow. The few preciousseconds gave Tywit all the time he needed. Using his speed and strength,Tywit swiped a thick layer of snow over Milo’sfur coat.

“Milo, out!” Amis calledas the crowd sang with applause, congratulating Tywit on becomingthe new Silvermosschampion.

Looking upon the fallenbear, Tywit walkedright past Milo and began chanting his own name to the cheering crowd.Paying no attentionto his fellowcompetitors, Tywit proceededto knock Amis off the victor’s stump and began howling in his own victory.

SPLAT!

As if the forestwas put on mute, every sound evaporatedinto a profoundsilence. Completely transfixed,every pair of eyes staredupon Tywit’s snow-cladface.

“NO!” Tywit barked, as his claws locked onto the stump.

Following Tywitsshort sniffs, all of Silvermoss’gazed upon the old sycamoretree. Dangling from her tail, Missy’s upside-downface looked as surprised as the crowd,in complete disbeliefthat her singleshot was successful.Swinging from her tail, she had used the momentumto perfectly launcha snowball right into Tywits'howling face.

“Missy wins!”Amis cheered, with nothing but pure delightin his voice.

Kindly helpingher down, Milo held Missy high in his paw for all the camp to see. The crowd roared with applause and rushed to greet her.

“Missy! Missy!Missy!” came the chants repeatedly.

“Can you all give a huge cheer for the new Silvermoss champion?”Amis exclaimed, amplifyingthe applause. “Missy!”

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For the remainder of the day, Missy struggled to comprehend that her dream had come true. She shyly smiledand waved to all the Silvermoss folk as shenow stood on the victor’sstump, but soon felt relaxedwhen snow animalswere made, warm raspberry pies were shared,and melodies were sung arounda crackling fire.

However, despitethe feasts, dancing,and the winningof the Silvermosschampionship, Missy’s favouritemoment came in the late evening under a thick blanket besideher mother, when she witnesseda beautiful snow begin to fall.