“Perhaps the cat has your tongue?” jeered the mouse closest to the throne.
She felt regret once more, felt the absence of Jolly Roger, remembered the softness of his fur, the way she had abandoned him to fend for himself. Had it been her cat that had been keeping her human; had it been the need to care for him, to ensure his safety that had made the difference here?
“It would benefit you to accept circumstance,” a mouse from the far right of the collective announced. “Now that you are here, there is no need for us to quarrel. This world is superficial, it finds reasons to accommodate us, to justify us, you can live comfortably here, and I shall not interfere with you, should you likewise promise to do the same for me.”
Clara felt her stomach turn, unable to conceal the disgust from her
