Eek... Continued

The source of the sound stood motionless merely inches from Tara's yellow, unblinking eyes. His dull gray fur looked like a shabby worn coat flung carelessly across his shoulders. His black eyes were exceptionally round and seemed to sit awkwardly on his face. Below his measly collection of whiskers- one of which was broken in half- three tarnished teeth protruded.

He stood between the stall and the wall of the barn in the little alcove formed there. Behind him, in the darkness, pairs of eyes reflected the florescent barn lights. In the darkness, the legion of eyes peered out at different levels and heights. Tara quickly noted that there must be at least 26 of them staring at her. Recalling that the intelligence garnered from the goat indicated these intruders may be armed and dangerous, she narrowed her eyes slightly and coiled her muscles into a tight feline ball. She was ready to defend against any invasion.

"Eek," another miniscule voice announced.  Then whispers followed.

The Gypsy mice had traveled across the pasture to this barn. The were nomadic by nature- spending much of their time visiting the villages of other clans of mice. They made their way using whatever means was necessary. They were tramps and thieves. They were the worst kind of mice.

Tara moved a whisker ever so slightly. She was assessing the distance separating her from the group. Instinctively, and in less time than it took the Shabby Mouse to ponder his next move, Tara singled out the weakest, the sickest, and the oldest members of this sorry band of rodents. A hunter by birth, her DNA was programmed to recognize and identify in a glance.

Shabby Mouse knew the fate of his brethren was out of his hands. It was being decided in this moment by the black and orange cat inches away from the motley group. Then, a tiny gray wisp of fur emerged from the darkness. At first, Tara thought this must be a stray orb of dust or hair floating into the light. The tiny gray ball stopped just in front of the cat. It unfolded and revealed four pink feet with four pink toes each. Gossamer whiskers that were so small, they seemed nearly invisible framed a miniature black nose and two large black eyes.

"Eek," the tiny voice called up to the cat sitting right in front of her. The tiniest mouse reached her pink hands upward until they were grasping the sides of Tara's face. Shabby Mouse was speechless with fear as he watched Tiny Mouse grasp the Halloween cat so closely to her razor sharp teeth.  Tiny Mouse leaned forward until her cheek was resting on Tara's muzzle just between the area where her whiskers met her nose and delivered an embrace.

"Eek," the small one squeaked again. Then, she returned her feet to the floor and softly returned to the legion of eyes in the darkness. In the moments while the encounter unfolded, Tara's heart melted. The hunter within her was maligned. She determined that the small group was not harmful and she reasoned that they should receive security clearance to proceed. After all, she was the Head of Foaling Barn security.

As the procession of mice filed before her across the doorway, through the stall door, and disappeared into the thick warm straw, Tara regained her senses. She shook her head to clear the fog of the incident.

The goat peeked around the corner at Tara. "Dern Gypsies, I told you they were armed. All that Peace and Love. Dangerous, I tell you," she sulked. Tara could hear the faint rustling sound as the little band prepared their encampment for the night.

The End.