Greta and Boris Read online

  It was time to head to the border, and from there confront the Rat King.

  ‘So, Kyrie, what is the millpond?’ Greta asked, after they had been walking through the Land of Mice for a few miles. Now that the war was over, the landscape had begun to recover. Shoots of green were appearing from the dusty ground. They walked past groups of mice working together to rebuild their villages; Brown with White painting houses and halls in bright and merry colors.

  ‘It is good you ask me that now, Greta,’ Kyrie replied. ‘For the border between this land and the Rat Kingdom is only a mile away, and that is where we’ll find the millpond. So I suggest we stop here for some tea and maybe a snack or two from your pack, and I will explain. It is a dangerous part of our mission, so listen carefully.’

  ‘The millpond is, as its name suggests, a pond of a mill. What makes these pools special is that they are almost completely still, giving a perfect reflection of anyone who looks into it. But beneath its peaceful exterior lies hidden dangers. The pond is endlessly deep and should you fall in you will be dragged down into its depths by the entangling weeds that grab and clutch at you as you fall in.

  ‘What makes this millpond particularly unique is that not only does it give a reflection, but also it shows the viewer their true and inner self. If you do not believe in yourself, if you cannot face your true reflection as you look at it, then you will fall into the millpond. But if you have faith in yourself, then you will see your real face and will be safe.’ She paused, to let her words sink in, before smiling softly. ‘But you’ll be fine, Greta. Think how much you have achieved so far. You surely believe in yourself by now. You just have to see how brave and good you are. You’ll do just fine.’

  Greta smiled weakly back, but she couldn’t repress a shudder of fear. She didn’t know if she was strong enough or brave enough to face the millpond. And she only had a mile before she must look into it! She gulped down the last of her tea.

  ‘Come on Kyrie. We’d better keep going. We’ve got to get to the Rat Kingdom. We’ve got to get to Boris!’

  Kyrie mewed in agreement as the two stood up to carry on with the journey. Greta could see that the closer they came to the border of the Rat Kingdom, the more desolate the Land of Mice became. There were no more villages, no more happy parties, just the thick woods looming ahead of them in the distance.

  ‘Those woods mark the border,’ murmured Kyrie. ‘You can see the mill from here.’

  Greta’s heart skipped a beat. Never had a mile gone so fast! The millpond was beautiful. The old wooden mill turned slowly, looking like it had come straight out of a storybook. It was just as Greta had always imagined a mill would look. The pond itself was a deep shimmering blue, clearer than the summer sky, deeper than the petals of a forget-me-not – and yet it looked as cold and cruel as it did beautiful. Surrounding it were tall and elegant green rushes, tipped with white cotton or brown brushes. Behind it, the tall pines and oaks loomed menacingly.

  ‘So here we are,’ Kyrie said. ‘Would you like me to go first?’

  Greta shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. I think this is something I have to do. And if anything happened, then I’d be lost without you.’

  Greta hadn’t put that as well as she meant, but Kyrie appreciated the sentiment. ‘Okay then, Greta. Just remember everything I told you. You are brave and kind and intelligent – you can achieve whatever you want. And you have done. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Never feel like you have to change to make people happy. You are who you are, and you should always, always be proud of that.’

  Greta smiled uneasily and walked slowly to the edge of the millpond. The rushes brushed against her carelessly in the slight breeze that rippled the surface of the water.

  ‘If you see any movement in the water, then think harder on believing in yourself,’ Kyrie called, her voice a little broken. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Greta could do it. She just wasn’t sure if Greta knew that she could succeed.

  Greta nodded back silently, and kneeled down at the steep edge. ‘Here goes,’ she said to herself. She concentrated hard. She thought about her beautiful bedroom where she always felt so at home, and about Boris, whom she always shared it with. She thought about the girls at school who were mean to her, but how she had refused to change to make them like her more, to fit in. She thought about how she had overcome all their nasty comments to get good marks at school, how she was smart and funny, could paint lovely pictures and write good stories. She thought about how no matter what people said to her or how bad they made her feel, she had never given in. She had stayed loyal to her views and opinions, even on the days when the only one who would listen to them was Boris. She thought about the future adventures she would go on to have one day. She looked back on what she had achieved in the last few days, her courage in standing up to the mice and in overcoming her fear on the staircase. She smiled at the thought of her eccentric parents, and finally she thought about the gorgeous blue-black cat she was here to rescue.

  She looked down.

  Looking up at her from the crystal glassy blue water was a face she recognized, and yet seemed strange to her. It was a smiling reflection, but beneath the merry eyes was a hard determination and strength that suggested a brave spirit that would not be subdued. It was a striking face, with green-grey eyes that were bright, intelligent and smiling. She could see in the face a fighting heart that wouldn’t be placated or repressed. Greta shook her head, and the face shook back at her.

  ‘But,’ she said, ‘but that’s n…’

  The water began to stir, and Greta became aware of the tangled mess of grasses and weeds moving under the still surface. The reflection looked back, a hint of fear in those brave eyes.

  ‘Greta!’ Kyrie miaowed. ‘Don’t stop now! Think who it is in the water!’

  Greta stared and stared, trying to recognize the face that looked up at her from the water. She was frightened, yet deep down she knew she had the answer and that she just had to face it.

  ‘But that is me!’ she cried. ‘Look Kyrie, see! That is me there! That is who I am. I am brave, and I am strong, I am all these things!’

  Kyrie burst into peals of relieved laughter as the waters calmed and Greta stepped away from the pond. ‘Of course it is silly! It’s what I’ve been telling you from the start! You are all those things. You just had to learn if for yourself. Now do you believe me?’

  Greta started to laugh too. ‘Yes, yes I do,’ she replied, hugging her close. ‘I had no idea. But I am good. I can do this. I can do anything I want to, because I am all these brave and wonderful things. And no-one can change that unless I let them. And I’m not going to, Kyrie. I am not going to let anyone change me.’

  ‘No, I don’t think you ever will. Now, just let me look, and then we can be on our way.’

  Greta let her go. ‘Aren’t you scared?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh no,’ Kyrie replied. ‘I know what I’ll see.’

  Greta smiled, as Kyrie looked over the edge, to see the reflection of herself that she loved and recognized; a peace-loving warrior who believed in the power of harmony. A heart that desired to heal division and help create better communities. A beautiful cat with an inner-strength that couldn’t be stopped.

  ‘Right then. Now we have completed the task of the millpond, we can cross that border and rescue the Prince!’

  In which the border is crossed and they enter the Rat Kingdom

  ‘Ok Greta,’ Kyrie said, as they made their way from the millpond into the woods. ‘There are some things we need to remember now that we have reached the Rat Kingdom. Never trust a rat. They will trick and they will lie to get what they want. Don’t even trust the land you walk upon. Nothing here is as it seems, nothing is strictly safe. I’ve traveled to many lands and seen many wonders, but nothing scares me as much as the Rat Kingdom.’

  Greta nodded in response, trying to put on a brave face. But inside she was terrified. For if Kyrie was afraid, well! That meant the Rat Kingdom reall
y must be a terrifying place. Still, she reasoned, there was no turning back now. She took a deep breath, and steeled herself for the journey. She would just have to tell herself not to be frightened. After all, she had to rescue Boris!

  The surroundings did not really fill her with much confidence. Unlike the sheltering trees way back at the start of their journey, this forest hung over them, dark and threatening. The branches were twisted and gnarled, the patterns in the bark making vicious faces that sent shivers down her spine. The birdsong that had begun to resurface in the Land of Mice had fallen silent. The only sound was the rustling of shadowy leaves and the occasional scurry that made Greta jump out of her skin.

  ‘Kyrie,’ she whispered. ‘Have you thought of a plan to rescue Boris?’

  Kyrie stopped next to a blackened old tree stump, and rubbed her side against it. ‘I don’t really know. I’ve been trying to formulate a strategy, but each one hits a dead end. I keep hoping that when we get there, the answer will just be obvious.’

  Greta stood in silence for a while. ‘Couldn’t we just ask for Boris back? Ask the Rat King to do the right thing?’

  Kyrie smiled. ‘If only it were that simple.’

  But maybe it could be that easy, Greta thought. Maybe it was the simplest plans that work out the best.

  They continued their walk through the forest. It seemed to grow thicker and darker the further they went. And as they came ever closer to the Rat King’s castle, Greta became more and more aware of red and yellow glowing eyes gleaming at them through the darkness. They were being watched.

  ‘The rats have spies everywhere,’ Kyrie muttered. ‘There is no point hoping for an element of surprise in this place. Sometimes I think it’s a shame that the Kingdom of Cats don’t have more cats on guard, watching the land. Perhaps then Prince Boris would be safe at home.’

  ‘But if the cats were so mistrustful and spying on everyone all the time,’ Greta said, ‘then the kingdom would not be as lovely a place to live as it is.’

  ‘That’s true. We cats do feel happy and secure in the kingdom because we have so much freedom.’

  Greta agreed. She certainly didn’t feel safe or happy here.

  Kyrie nuzzled her head against Greta’s knee. ‘I may be frightened here, my friend, but you can be sure that as long as I am by your side, no harm will come to you. I would never let that happen.’

  Greta leant her arm down and scratched Kyrie behind the ears. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘And I will not be afraid with you by my side.’

  The two friends looked at each other and smiled. Over the course of their adventure together, they had become close. Greta was sad that soon she and Kyrie would have to go their separate ways, as Kyrie would return to her travels and adventures. But for now at least, they were together.

  ‘Come on then, Kyrie, let’s keep going.’

  As they carried on walking, the many red and yellow beady eyes followed their steps. Greta and Kyrie could hear the sinister, slithering sound of hissing and scuffling, as the rats started to surround them.

  ‘Keep calm,’ Kyrie whispered out of the side of her mouth. ‘It looks like we are going to have to go along with them for a bit.’

  Greta bit down on the side of her mouth and dug her nails into her palms. She was determined to not show any fear, as the largest rat she had ever seen stepped out of the shadows and walked towards them.

  ‘By order of the Rat King,’ he said, in a sniffling, high pitched voice, ‘trespassers in this land discovered by spies and informers loyal to his great majestic self shall be taken immediately to the castle to seek audience with his Highness. He can then decide on the best course of action to punish any law breakers and trespassers who walk through this ratty land without due permissions or invitation.’ He paused to recover his breath. ‘Seize the intruders!’

  At his word, the rats swarmed towards Greta and Kyrie, gripping their arms and legs with gnarled and clawed hands and feet. The pads on the rats’ feet were rough and calloused; their nails were bent and crooked and dug painfully into Kyrie’s fur and Greta’s skin, pulling hair and whiskers. Greta felt deafened by the devastating cacophony of squeaks and squeals and threats. ‘This is quite enough,’ muttered Kyrie into Greta’s ear. ‘Just hold tight. I’m going to shout out.’

  At that moment, Kyrie released from the pit of her belly a loud, caterwauling wailing MIAOW that silenced and stilled the squabbling, vicious rats. As they stopped, Kyrie held her head high.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, shaking her smooth head as if to brush away the dirty touch of her enemies. ‘I beg permission to speak, Envoy of the Rat King, and invoke the right of parlay.’

  The Rat Envoy looked at her curiously. ‘And how, may I ask, do you presume to know the right of parlay?’

  Kyrie tossed her head proudly, determined to show that she was not intimidated by this huge rat. ‘The rats are a pirating species and parlay is the request to see the pirate captain on capture, without any harm coming to you in the intermediary period. As a mi-ke cat, my father served on pirate ships in both China and Japan, before he settled into his life as a fisher-cat. This means my family history gives me the same rights and protections as the pirates. Rats pirate on boats and on land, therefore I invoke the right of parlay. You and your followers will not touch or hurt myself or my companion until we have spoken to the Rat King and he has made a further decision.’

  The Rat Envoy paused to consider the request. ‘Your reasoning and argument is correct, cat. And according to the rules we cannot harm or touch you. If you would follow us to the Rat King, we will proceed from there.’

  Kyrie bowed her head and gave Greta a satisfied grin. The two of them brushed themselves down, collected their belongings, and solemnly followed the Rat Envoy through the thickening forests, towards the castle and their meeting with the King. Greta could not think of a time she had been more terrified.

  In which they meet the Rat King

  The castle rose above them without warning. Unlike the grand beauty of the palace of the Kingdom of Cats, or the cheerful communities Greta had seen on her journey through the Milky Sea Port and the forests below the staircase, this castle seemed like something from a nightmare.

  It was vast and sprawling, with twisted spires and turrets filthy with grey smoke stains, overgrown with hanging dead vines. Surrounding the walls was a filthy and polluted moat, from which rose a dank and stagnant smell. What could have been beautiful gardens were now unkempt and littered. The only surviving plants were greedy weeds, choking any life beneath them as they wrapped their coils around dead or dying shrubs and trees. The moon or sun was blacked out by billows of thick smoke rising from sputtering and choking fires that smelled of burnt rubber. Despite the flickering flames, the fires failed to warm the cold and damp atmosphere that filled the filthy air.

  ‘Poor Boris,’ murmured Greta, as she took in her surroundings. That her beautiful cat had been forced to live in such horrendous circumstances!

  ‘If the King saw this,’ Kyrie whispered. ‘Our poor Prince!’

  As the party walked into the castle’s courtyard, Greta took a deep breath. The sight here was even more terrible than what she had seen outside of the castle walls. The scene was one of greed and cruelty. Rats lolled on their backs in gangs, swallowing from oversize goblets of beer and tearing at bones of meat, as their swollen bellies grumbled with painful indigestion. In other corners, deafening squeaks and shrieks were accompanied by punches and bites, as gangs fought each other for sport. The ground of the courtyard was littered with waste; discarded bones were nibbled on by cockroaches and other pests, whilst a tipsy group of bugs swam in a pool of spilt beer. The noise and the smells were overpowering, as Greta put her hand over her mouth to prevent the nausea rising in her stomach.

  In the center of the chaos sat the Rat King, scarier, bigger and smellier than all his ratty subjects. He was sprawled out across his throne, flanked by two rats waving fans. In one scaly paw he held a goblet of ale; in the other he
had a gnawed turkey leg. At the sight of the approaching party, he sat up abruptly.

  ‘Ah ha!’ he bellowed, his voice deeper and less slithering than that of his Envoy. ‘You return with the trespassers! And yet, they look rather safe and calm.’

  ‘Your majestical greatness,’ sniffled the Envoy. ‘The mi-ke cat invoked the right of parlay. Therefore, according to the rules, we could not touch them until they had spoken first to your excellent Highness.’

  ‘Hmm,’ he said, scratching his whiskers, which were wrinkled and uneven. ‘So, the cat knows of the rules.’

  ‘My father was a pirate cat before settling into a life of fishing, as was his father before him,’ Kyrie said, her voice proud and haughty. ‘Therefore you find the rules apply to my companion and me. We have come to speak with you.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he said, waving his gnarly old paw dismissively. ‘I know why you have come. You have been sent by your King to rescue the Prince who my soldiers stole from you. But the question needs to be asked, why on earth do you think I would return him to you?’

  Greta looked nervously down at Kyrie. Such direction was unexpected.

  ‘Because it is your duty!’ Kyrie cried out in anger. ‘You have defied the laws and harmonies of nature! You have to restore order and do what is right!’

  There was a brief pause before the whole crowd of rat courtiers exploded into hoots of laughter. They rolled on the floor, unable to catch their breath through the force of their hysterics. Tears of mirth rolled down the grubby cheeks of the King, as gales and screeches of hilarity burst from his courtiers’ bellies.