Snake and Mouse

Once when the plains grew long and large, and the sun warmed the bare earth, there was a mouse that was born. The mouse was the smallest of the litter, and the mother knew it was unlikely it would survive with its five other siblings vying for food and shelter.

“By day's end,” thought Mother Mouse, “this runt will be dead.”

But such was life, and Mother Mouse could not waste energy when she had many more mouths to feed.

When Father Mouse saw the runt, he agreed, “By day’s end this runt will be dead. Such is life.”

But by day's end the runt of the group survived, though it was a little squished between its siblings' little furry bodies, and it was just a little hungry, but it was keen to keep breathing. The next morning when the runt came forward, it surprised both Mother and Father Mouse, not expecting this turn of events.

They were certain it would not survive through the week. But once again, at week's end, tails shifted and beady eyes awakened yet still survived the runt of the group. By this point, Mother and Father Mouse were convinced this was a small miracle the runt had survived, yet they held a pebble of doubt it would continue to thrive, though they felt there was no point in voicing those thoughts.

About the time the mice were born, so too did a snake peek its head out of its shell after splitting it open. Though the snake's encounter with life held nothing but fear- its other siblings were being consumed by a scavenger in the night. No Mother Snake or Father Snake were near to defend their children. Only the strong survive, after all. That fear held the snake as it slithered away out of sight, desperately hoping not to attract the attention of other predators around. Many days had gone by and the fear had started to recede, the snake realized it was hungry. The snake flicked out its tongue, catching the scents of prey around it; it snuck behind a cricket in the grass, chirping away as night fell. The snake descended upon it, and soon the cricket was no more. The snake had a thought, a distant one, that perhaps this cricket didn’t deserve the fate it did, but the snake had to eat, so the cricket had to die. Such was life.

One day, the snake decided to tumble and play in the long grasses of the plains. It was a warm day, and the sun beat nicely on the snake's cool skin when a sudden squeak snapped the snake out of its revelry. Popping its head up, the snake noticed a furry creature rubbing dirt into its coat. The creature was wide with a long tail, and the snake thought it would be too difficult to eat, so this must be a predator. But looking at the fuzzy creature, the snake couldn’t understand why it wasn’t attacking.

“Are you a predator?” Asked the snake. It needed to be sure.

“Not a predator, a mouse.” The mouse was unsure how to respond to the snake's question, something about the snake was alarming, but the mouse was confident in its assessment. If the mouse neglected to tell the snake that it was in fact the predator, well, no one was the wiser since they were alone.

“A mouse?”

“Yes, we eat seeds and grain found in these plains.”

“I eat crickets and snails.” Though when the snake flicked out its tongue, it scented a hint of something that made its hunger spike; although it could not find where it was coming from.

This relieved the mouse; the snake seemed a friendly sort. After all, it did not eat mice.

“Since you will not eat me,” started the snake, “would you like to play?”

The mouse let out a happy squeak, and soon they were playing in the dirt until the sun fell, and their hunger was rising like the moon over the ridge.

“I will see you tomorrow, Snake.” Mouse insisted, and Snake readily agreed.

In the burrow, Mother Mouse asked what had taken the runt of the litter so long to come home.

“I met a snake, and we played in the dirt.”

“A snake!” Mother Mouse proclaimed, startling the smaller mouse.

“Yes, the snake is nice. We played and will meet again tomorrow.”

“Snakes are dangerous to mice; they are predators, and they will eat you up.”

But the mouse was emphatic and insisted that this snake was different; after all, it was smaller than the runt of the litter; it couldn’t possibly eat a mouse its size.

Mother Mouse knew no matter what was said, the runt would not listen to the words of warning given to it. That sliver of doubt the runt of the litter would survive long started to blossom; it was a matter of time, and such was life.

Once the morning sun had risen and the morning dew glimmered in the plains, the mouse met the snake where they had met the day before.

“Mother Mouse says you are dangerous and will eat me. Is this true?”

“You are my friend, and bigger than I am; I couldn’t eat you. See?” The snake opened its wide mouth to reveal its long and pointed teeth that sent a shiver down the mouse’s spine. But the snake was right; its jaw wasn’t large enough to eat the mouse, and that eased its worries.

“I’m sorry”, started the mouse, “I should have trusted you.”

Soon they played the day away, rolling in the dirt and running through the fields of long grass until the moon started to rise with their hunger.

Each night Mother Mouse asked after the runt of the litter where it had gone, and each night the mouse said it was playing with the snake. Mother Mouse told the runt of the dangers of snakes, but they fell on deaf ears.

Many days after their first encounter, when the mouse had gotten larger and the snake as well, they talked about predators.

“I am scared of the big birds in the sky that swoop down and try to eat me.” Started Mouse.

“I am too.” Says Snake. There were lots of predators in the sky.

But as they were talking, Snake realized that it was hungry. Snake was eating all the crickets and snails it could find, but that hunger remained. Snake had begun to notice that as Mouse grew a little, Snake had grown much more, and that ever permanent scent around mouse also grew.

“You know,” started Snake, “I believe I am bigger than you now.”

Mouse pondered this for a moment, looking at Snake with beady eyes. “I think we both have!” Mouse exclaimed, looking only at the top of Snake’s head.

But then Snake began to wonder. It was bigger than Mouse now; did that mean that Snake truly was a predator? So, what did that make Mouse? Snake began to coil its body tightly within itself, fighting a sudden urge to strike when hunger started to intensify and the scent curled around its senses.

These questions pressed on Snake, and so it decided to test this theory. Surely, if Mouse was prey, then Snake would be inclined to eat its friend. When Mouse was looking away, Snake widened its jaws and with astonishment realized that they were as tall as Mouse. With only hunger driving Snake forward, it launched itself at Mouse, coiling its body around and around until the mouse was nothing more than a lump amongst dark scales. Snake pulled away and started to slowly consume the prey it had once considered friend.

When the runt didn’t come to the burrow, Mother Mouse knew without a doubt that it was eaten by the snake.

Snake had to eat, so the mouse had to die.

Such is life.