Rustle 1

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Once again, I'm going to remind you that the worlds I create may not conform to your preconceived notions. This tale has gotten long enough to require more than one chapter. I will submit the pieces as a group. When I do this, Literotica generally publishes them back-to-back.

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~~~ Cold & Rainy ~~~

Russell had never felt so cold in his life. He knew that wasn't true but - at that moment at least - it felt like it was the truth. He peered into a hollow log to discover a mass of leaves that the wind had funneled inside and had left there. He stepped inside of the log, out of the rain, and burrowed down into the leaves.

He had just settled in - and had finally stopped shivering - when he felt cold, smooth skin brush past his foot as the leaves began parting. Snake!

Russell bolted towards the chill of the dark night, bounding as fast as his little legs would take him. He prayed to any gods that would listen that the snake would be more interested in staying in its warm nest than striking out in the frigid air with the hope of securing a furry meal. He emptied his bladder as he jumped clear of the mouth of the log, hoping that would help detour the reptile.

What a night!

He'd already climbed a tree to check on a hole that he had spotted - and made an enemy of the squirrel who lived there. After that, he had tried slipping inside of an underground tunnel - which he found belonged to an unfriendly badger. The log had been just his latest attempt at escaping the cold, wet darkness. The light drizzle made the chilly night air seem even worse than it already was.

Russell knew he had been colder than this. The coldest he'd ever been was when the wizard had blasted him with some sort of ice-spell. Still, Russell felt like he was freezing to death.

He found a few leaves trapped between the roots of a hickory tree and crawled within. It wasn't much, but it also wasn't already occupied. After moving a couple of the larger leaves to direct the runnels of rain to the sides, he was able to curl into a ball and started to get warm. The best part of Russell's new hidey-hole was that he found half of a hickory nut at the bottom of the pile of leaves. With a little food in his belly, and the small dry bed of leaves, he was soon feeling less like the homeless rodent that he was. He curled into a ball, once more, and fell asleep.

~~~ Frosty Morning ~~~

The small, brown mouse stuck his pointed nose out from between the leaves and sniffed the air, his whiskers twitching as he checked the area for trouble.

A light frost covered everything. The rain had stopped at some point in the night and then the temperature had dropped even more, painting the world around him in a lacy blanket of frost that sparkled in the early morning sun.

Russell's tiny stomach growled. It was empty once more. It seemed like his stomach had growled continually for the last eight years.

~~~ Flashback ~~~

The frost that covered everything this morning reminded him of the frost that had been on the ground the morning that he'd set out on his own - at ten years old. His mam was busy with the littles, his older siblings were tasked with running the house, and he always seemed to be underfoot.

Russell had taken the blanket that had always been his, draped it across his shoulders, and set off.

For the rest of the spring, all of the summer, and most of the fall, he had lived in the streets. Sometimes, someone would feel sorry for him and hand him a copper penny or a crust of stale bread, but most of the time they ignored him.

He learned which townspeople didn't care that he used their well to get a drink - and who did. He passed the winter sleeping on someone's cellar stairs. He used his blanket to carry leaves to the spot. He shivered through the first icy rain and woke to find that someone had draped a piece of canvas over this pile of leaves.

He barely survived the winter, scraped by through the warmer seasons and, soon, he found himself back on the cellar stairs. His second night there, someone smacked their hand on the canvas and told him he couldn't sleep there anymore. He moved from house to house until he found someone who would let him stay in an out-of-the-way corner of their property.

At 12, he hired himself out as a stable boy. He had a roof over his head, a warm bed of straw, and bread to eat - most of the time. The ostler made him take a bath - at least once a week - no matter how cold it was - but he was better off than he had ever been.

At 14, he decided to make his way to the capital city. He'd heard that even the beggars there had food to eat. He used his meager savings to buy himself passage in the back of a trader's wagon and trail food to eat along the way. The ostler gave him a small canteen and wished him well.

His first day on the streets of the city didn't go well. He discovered that nearly every street was already claimed by a beggar - and intruding on their territory got you beaten and robbed. He also discovered that being strong enough to displace a littler beggar did you no good if they were in tight with the gangs. He discovered that the gangs were really good at beating people and finding every hidden copper.

Bruised and bloodied, he crawled into an unoccupied alley and slept until the swelling on his eye went down enough that he could see again. His stomach had been empty for days and that wasn't helping him heal. He dug through the trash cans that were near and ate anything the rats hadn't already consumed.

After emptying his stomach onto the ground, he decided that he needed to be a little pickier when it came to certain meats or vegetables. If the rats didn't eat it, there was probably a reason.

There wasn't much of any real value in the alley he slept in - but no other beggars bothered him there. That should have been a clue about the danger - but Russell was still learning his way around the city. The next thing he learned was that the trash on the left belonged to a temperamental wizard and that - getting caught trying to pick his lock got you blasted with magic that made your whole body feel like a block of ice.

Next, he learned that temperamental wizards could use beggars and street urchins for their experiments with almost no repercussions. For the next couple years, Russell lived in a cage in the corner of a lab and ate or drank whatever the mage gave him. The old man would hand him things and then sit and watch him, taking notes in some kind of diary.

The last thing the wizard gave him to drink was something in a glass flask. The thick liquid tasted awful and was some color in between green and blue. Russell sniffed the potion and tried to refuse but the wizard pointed his wand at him. The beggar held his nose, downed the concoction, and returned the flask to the mage. He knew - by the increasing size of the man's eyes - that something was going to happen.

When his stomach began twisting, he thought his body would vomit the nasty potion out and the experiment would be over. That was not to be the case. The wizard watched him for hours as heat and pain suffused his body. He lay on the floor of the cage, writhing and moaning. When the pain grew too much for his mind to bear, he screamed - and passed out.

He awoke in the middle of the night. The wizard was asleep on his stool. The quill that he had been writing with was still in his hand. Russell felt ... different ... and the cage seemed a lot bigger than before. He almost thought he could fit between the bars. He looked at his hands and realized they were the hands - or claws - of a rodent.

Russell squeezed between the bars and raced around the house until he found a looking-glass. That was when he had discovered that he was a rat!

He returned to the lab - where there were more potions that looked like the one that had changed him - and specimen jars containing rats and bats and mice and snakes and ... Were these real animals? Or had the wizard transformed other boys and then carved them up? Russell climbed up onto the counter and began racing along the shelves, throwing bottles, jars, and flasks to the floor.

All at once he realized that he'd woken the wizard - who was beyond angry. The rat-boy ducked and dodged spell after spell that the old man fired at him. He leapt from the counter to the table and knocked the lantern to the floor.

When the flames touched the giant pool of fluids, from all of the things that Russell had destroyed, it ignited. The wizard screamed as his feet and robes began burning. He stopped chasing Russell and started trying to put out the fire.

Russell went to the door - but the handle was out of reach. The windows were shuttered. Smoke and flames were coming out of the workroom and he could no longer hear the wizard yelling. He climbed the walls, found a narrow space between the roof and the rafters, and squeezed through to freedom.

Out in the street, the alarm was being raised and people were coming with buckets to try to fight the blaze. Russell darted down the street and ducked into an open doorway. He was halfway to the kitchen when a woman with a broom took exception to his presence in her home. He launched himself from surface to surface, flying back towards the door, in order to escape her wrath.

The next house was guarded by an obese cat. He might have been able to get around the beast, but it would know he was there and would eventually hunt him down.

Someone, in the next house, had been in the middle of a midnight-snack when the alarm went up. Russell ate the chunk of bread as fast as he could and made off with the wedge of yellow cheese. He slipped into the next alley and ate until he thought he would explode.

There was still a good portion of the cheese remaining. Russell didn't want to leave it. It had been so long since he'd had a good meal, he just couldn't make himself abandon food. If only he were a little bigger, he'd have room to hold it. If he was still a boy, he could put it in his pocket or his pack - although he didn't have a pack anymore. If he was a raccoon, he was sure he'd be able to finish the cheese.

Almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, his stomach knotted. He worried the food had somehow been bad, but then he felt his temperature rising - like it had before.

There wasn't as much pain this time, but he slept again. He didn't know how long he was asleep, but the townspeople were done fighting the fire and were returning to their homes.

Russell looked at the cheese. It seemed smaller now - not like someone had eaten part of it - but like it had shrunk. He looked at his paws and realized they had changed. He gobbled down the rest of the cheese - which didn't quite fill his stomach - and climbed up a water-barrel to get a look at himself. He was a raccoon.

By thinking he wanted to be a raccoon, he had made himself transform into one. His stomach had knotted, he'd passed out, and he'd woken up as the animal he'd thought about changing into.

The nice thing about being a raccoon was that his hands worked better. The bad thing was that his stomach already felt half-empty. Either the transformation had taken strength from his body, or his tummy was bigger, and he needed more to eat.

He was halfway finished digging through the trash bin, when the lady with the broom was back.

"Does this woman never sleep?!" he thought.

He tucked the half-eaten apple into his teeth, ran for the nearest down-pipe, and escaped to the roof. He startled a pigeon - but found a hiding place and settled down to finish the apple and get some sleep.

Over the next two years, Russell discovered that raccoons are hated by nearly everyone, and that they need more to eat than mice. The problem with being a mouse in the city was that there were so damned many cats!

At that point, Russell had moved to the country. He had yet to find a permanent place to call home, but food was slightly less scarce, and he didn't have to watch out for people. He had to contend with predators and angry critters that didn't want to share their living spaces - but he had those problems in the city as well.

~~~ Present Day ~~~

As the sun rose and the frost melted, mouse-Russell looked out from the forest, down towards the road where the bridge crossed the river - just before it entered the city. It was peaceful. He watched the wagons and travelers as the guards checked their wares and their bags, looking for contraband and asking them what their business was in the town.

Russell nibbled a half-frozen raspberry he'd discovered nearby and sat back in his little bed of leaves and gave himself a moment to relax. The songbirds were up, but the hawks were still sleeping - so he wouldn't need to be too careful for another couple hours.

As the morning sun warmed his fur and the meager snack settled into his tiny tummy, the small brown mouse lay back in the leaves and slipped into a nap. His evening adventure - seeking a dry bed - had sapped his energy levels; he was still tired.

~~~ Mob ~~~

The gentle sound of the tiny rodent's slumbering breaths was shattered by the loud voices of an angry mob. Russell opened his eyes to see that a young woman, with curly flaming-orange hair, was running from a large group who were throwing things at her - rocks, cobblestones, and anything else they could find. The guards stepped aside and let the mob pass, unhindered. Russell didn't know what the girl had done but she appeared to be running for her life.

She crossed the bridge and ran towards the forest. One stone hit her in the back of the head, and she stumbled, barely keeping her feet. As she ran up the small incline, more stones hit her - but these were smaller. She flinched but they didn't cause her to miss steps like the one had. She glanced behind her as she passed Russell but the mob was still chasing her. She darted into the trees and kept running.

Whoever she was, Russell thought she was the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. There was nothing that he could do to help her - but he ran through the forest - a few yards to her right. He alternated between watching the angry villagers - and the young woman - worrying for her health.

A few of the townspeople - the older or heavier ones - gave up after they entered the trees - but there were still a dozen or so giving chase - so the girl kept on.

They were far enough into the woods now that they were entering an area to which Russell had never ventured. He darted along, running and jumping, looking for somewhere the girl could seek refuge.

Just as the redhead turned to check on her attackers once again, Russell saw that the ground suddenly dropped off. The young woman was still looking behind her as she tumbled over the edge of the bluff. She let out a shriek of fear.

Russell leapt to the edge and saw the girl bounce once, against a low grassy mound, before tumbling to the thin grass at the edge of the stone-bordered stream. He turned to see what the mob would do.

Most looked to see that she wasn't moving and turned away. A couple tried to look for paths down to the stream but finally gave up. The last two men hurled the stones they held at the woman - along with curses and threats - and turned back towards the city.

Russell glanced over the edge and then dove to the side, bounding along the earthen cliff one hop at a time, touching dirt, roots, or grass as he descended - slowing his fall each time he bounced from point to point. Finally, he reached the bottom.

He crept up to the girl. She was laying half on her back and half on her side. Her legs and arms were lying at weird angles, but nothing appeared to be broken. She was breathing at least.

Russell made his way around her body, checking for injuries. There was a large knot on the back of her head from the cobblestone that had hit her as she started to climb the hill to enter the woods. The rest of her injuries seemed minor. The fall had, no doubt, scared the life out of her. It probably knocked the wind out of her - and she would have bruises - but her body had somehow relaxed enough that she didn't appear to have broken anything.

Russell was standing between the young woman and the stream, looking into her face, when she moaned, her body shifted, her hand went to the back of her head, and she opened her eyes.

Unsure of what to do - and caught where there was almost no escape - Russell's brain grasped at anything he could do to make himself look non-scary and non-threatening. There were violets growing in the grass. He reached down, plucked one up, and held it in his hands.

~~~ Mara ~~~

The ginger-haired beauty opened her eyes and felt at the bump on the back of her head.

"Gods, that hurts," she thought.

As her focus changed from what her hand was feeling to what her eyes were seeing, she realized there was a small brown mouse standing in front of her. He was holding out his paws, presenting her with a violet.

"Have I died?" she asked, aloud.

The mouse shook his head, side to side, and held the small flower a little higher.

"You cannot - possibly - be real," she said.

Russell wasn't sure how to prove to the woman with the brilliant and piercing green eyes that he really did exist. He decided that the easiest way was to put the flower in the palm of her left hand - which was still lying on the ground. He stepped over and dropped the violet into her palm.

The redhead looked at the small, purple flower, rolled it around in her fingers, and looked at the mouse.

"So, you're real - and you understand me?"

Russell nodded.

"Unbelievable," she gasped.

She looked around and spotted more violets.

"If you understand me, pick two more violets and place them in my palm with the first one."

Russell darted to his right, stood on his hind legs, grabbed up two more of the small flowers, walked back over to the woman, and dropped them into her hand.

"Fucking shite!" the girl gasped. "What are you doing here?"

Russell jogged in place, dove to the ground, stood, walked over, and patted her thumb.

"You .... You saw me running?"

He nodded.

"... and fall?"

Russell nodded again.

"... and came to see if I was okay?"

He hugged his little arms around her thumb, looking into her eyes.

"Well, aren't you the sweetest fucking thing? And, here, I was thinking that the whole world hated me."

Tired of lying on the ground, the redhead struggled to sit up. Russell grabbed up the violets that tumbled from her hand and brought them back to her.

"Aren't you a sweetheart!" she gasped. "My name is Mara. Do you have a name?"

Russell nodded.

"Can you ... I don't suppose you can write?"

Russell shook his head.

"Can you tell me your name?"

Russell looked around and spotted three fallen leaves. He ran over, grabbed them, and brought them back. He laid the leaves, one on top of another, and rubbed them back and forth.

"Leaf?" she guessed.

He shook his head.

"Three?"

He cupped his paw to his ear and rubbed the leaves together again.

"Clever! It's the sound you're making ... with the leaves ... let's see ... you're rustling the leaves ... Rustle ... Russell?"

Russell jumped up and down.

The redhead clutched her arms to her side and laughed. Her right hand shot up to the lump on the back of her head.

"Ouch, that still hurts! Russell, huh? You know what, though? I think I like it better calling you the sound rather than the name. I'm going to keep calling you Rustle. You're such a clever thing - and with a man's name - were you always a mouse?"

Russell shook his head from side to side.

"I see," she said. "How did you get to be a mouse, do you know?"

Russell nodded and pantomimed drinking from a flask.

"You drank ... you drank a potion?"

Russell nodded his head.

"A potion you made? Are you an alchemist?"