uh what

[andaisq]

Perrit Hookhand, itinerant rat mystic and occasional graverobber extraordinaire, is currently hunting the wild berry. Berries are delicious, and the cheese he got from Sally is running out, and he doesn't want to have to ask for more so soon. She's nice enough already, he doesn't need to elevate her to sainthood. So: berries. He has a tidy little basket of blackberries and raspberries and strawberries hidden under his coat in case some goodmouse is struck by the perfectly understandable impression that he stole it from a dying widow or something and feels the need to bring him to justice with a broadsword.

...Is that a door in that tree over there? That is definitely a door. Perrit does not remember a door in that tree. He cautiously squeaks it open, and- the interior is definitely not the interior of a tree.

"My dreams usually have more food than this," he comments as he walks into the strange room. No one else appears to be inside.



It's fucking cold out. He's going to take advantage of the inexplicable central heating in this tree and shelter here for a minute.

Comments

[first_and_final]

There are more doors into this room than the one Perrit used, and it sounds like someone is approaching one of the other ones. While talking to himself, or perhaps talking to a companion with a much quieter voice.

Then he opens the door and steps inside - some kind of bizarre, nearly furless creature, tall as a hare, dressed in slightly odd clothing, and with someone or something perched on his shoulder that looks an awful lot like a tiny, tiny cat.

He looks around and spots Perrit. He blinks in confusion.

[andaisq]

"What in the everliving fuck."

[first_and_final]

"I take that to mean we confuse each other about equally," says the stranger. "Hello. My name is Milo."

"Introduce me," says the tiny cat.

"And this is Catherine," he adds. "We are very, very lost. I don't suppose you know more about this place than we do?"

[andaisq]

"I- Cluny on horseback. Fine. I'm... I'm Perrit. I have no fucking idea where we are except, possibly, inside of a tree. You are the weirdest fucking thing I've ever seen. Does your tiny cat not speak to vermin?"

[first_and_final]

"I'm not tiny," says the tiny cat. "But pleased to meet you anyway."

"My cat is of a reasonably ordinary size for the kind of cats we're used to," says Milo. "And we are also both used to no one understanding her except other cats and, purely theoretically since she's never met one, dragons."

"Can you understand me?" inquires the tiny cat. "Milo, don't translate."

[andaisq]

The rat looks deeply disturbed. "Yes I can understand you, you're not a mole. So your cats are the size of bugs. That's... odd. But tiny cats can still talk. But only to cats, 'dragons', and- whatever the fuck you are." He shakes his head. "And this isn't a dream."

[first_and_final]

"Human," Milo says helpfully. "I'm a human. We're very common where I'm from; almost everyone I know is human, in fact."

"This is very weird," says Catherine.

"You're telling me," snorts Milo.

[andaisq]

"Well, at least you're not the only species around. Didn't go all mouse and kill off all the lower races or something." He rolls his eyes. "Not that they'd actually do it. Outside their abbot's sticky dreams, at least."

[first_and_final]

"I'm very confused," says Cath. "And somewhat concerned."

"My feelings exactly," says Milo. "What?"

[andaisq]

"Oh, sorry, my angry muttering is missing some context. I'm a rat. We're vermin, officially. The mice are not vermin. The mice are... populous. They're powerful. They have their beautifully defensible abbey in the middle of the forest where they and their goodfolk," (he spits the word like a curse) "can eat, drink, and be merry. And we vermin can starve outside the walls. And every generation there's another damn horde that gets us all up in arms so the Abbeyfolk can crush us and justify treating us like scum the rest of the time."

His fur is standing on end; he takes a moment to breathe and smooth it down. "Apologies. I'm a bit of a... political type, you might say."

[first_and_final]

"Well, that sounds like a kingdom in desperate need of a good fairy or two to straighten it out," says Milo. "But something tells me it isn't going to be that simple."

[andaisq]

"Fairies." He snorts. "No, I don't imagine it would. Magic wands being in pretty short supply."

[first_and_final]

"I could recommend you an extremely sensible and effective good fairy... if I knew the way back to Raxwell from here," says Milo.

"But we don't know the way," says Cath.

"Which, yeah, we don't. And for that matter I have no idea how to get back here from anywhere else even if we managed to leave. We got pretty thoroughly lost in that forest outside. Getting lost in it all over again might lead us back out eventually, but I suspect any map we tried to draw on the way would do us no good at all."