Copyright© 2024 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 1
Interesting. Is she my mouse or am I her crazy man?
The foot path, once in, was single file ... and single foot prints ... step ... grass ... step ... grass.
It is said that indigenous warriors regulate their pace to prevent others from knowing their numbers. Each warrior steps in the print of the one gone before.
Here was proof.
What was difficult to understand was the tiny trail between the steps.
I pondered.
“Get out of the way.”
“What?”
“Step off the path.”
The path below my feet started to rumble and shudder.
“NOW!”
I stepped aside.
A whole train of painted warriors ran by, each warrior stepped in the footprint of the warrior before.
“Look down.”
A warrior mouse ran between the steps. Every warrior had a mouse.
“Get in line.”
The last warrior ran by,
“Get in line.”
My feet took off. I didn’t Want to go ... but they did.
When I was used to the pace and tempo, my mouse jumped out of my pocket, ran down my leg and ran in the mouse path.