CHAPTER ONE
The Storm
It swooped down upon the countryside with the speed
of an eagle, charged like an angry bull, then savagely attacked with a lion’s
lethal fury. There had never been a summer storm quite like it.
Lightning seared the midnight sky as thunder rocked
the ground like dynamite. Cold rain fell in gray sheets, ripped to shreds by
the howling bitter wind. A mass of billowing black clouds rolled in from the
west and settled over the field while sharp winds twisted tall grass into
tangles and snapped off tree limbs in the nearby woods.
Just below the surface, in a scattering of holes and
small tunnels, the field mice rolled themselves into snug furry bundles to ward
off the night’s violent frenzy. None of their tiny eyes saw what happened next.
A lightning flash sliced through the raucous clouds.
It struck an abandoned barn across the road from the mice’s field and blasted
the rooftop to bits. The wood burst into flames that quickly engulfed the walls
and rafters. Glowing timbers hissed and sputtered as grape-size raindrops
pelted the earth. Forked flames, glowing yellow and orange, snapped at the air
like snake tongues.
A wailing chorus erupted from inside the burning
blackness, followed by a riot of scratching claws and glowing green eyes ablaze
in terror. The fiery barn walls collapsed and crashed inward, shooting up a
volcano of sparks and glowing embers. Six black shadows fled the burning
wreckage, their cries drowning in the night’s fury. They escaped across the
muddy road and through the adjacent field, finally settling down in the dark
refuge of the nearby woods. The fur on their arched backs had been singed,
their bony legs splattered with blots of mud. Here they’d lick their wounds till
a new morning arrived.
The storm raged on for several more hours as the
flames devoured the crumbling barn, leaving it a tangled mess of burning beams.
Not until shortly before dawn did the lightning cease and the thunder die, and
the rains diminished to a drizzle. The first dull light of morning painted a
gray edge above the eastern horizon. The countryside was again a quiet place
and the mice at last found a few moments of restful sleep. Lingering night
fears slowly melted from their trembling limbs.
The remains of the barn lay as a smoking pile of
sickly wet ash and charcoal gray timbers. Its six previous inhabitants had
crossed the road to find new dwellings.
Somewhere closer to the mice.
Where they’d be watching--Waiting...