When Mice Were Giants

When Mice Were Giants

Did you know there was a time when the mouse was among the largest of all living things? I know, I know; difficult to believe what with them being as small as they are now, but they were not always so. They actually became this tiny because they sacrificed so much when they once saved the world.

Ages ago, long before man, mice would grow so large that they dwarfed every other creature that walked the Earth. Yes, elephants included. Mice of that time would become so massive that they could topple the thickest trees just by brushing past them. A single foot of such mice could leave an impression so wide that, if it rained enough, the print would form a pond; a lake even, if it was a particularly sizable mouse.

These mice, especially, had tails so heavy that they left great furrows in the ground as they traveled, creating canyons and valleys wherever they went. Sometimes, when they wandered up a high mountain, a simple feat for those early mice, their tails would leave wide trails all the way up to the top. Melting snows would trickle down these trails creating rivers and streams.

Though despite such size, and the immense strength that came with it, the mice of old were a gentle and caring sort. This was especially true when it came to the other animals, all much smaller than they. When coming across a lost pup, kit, or cub, a mouse would place it upon its huge head so the parents could clearly see it and hear its calls no matter how far away they were. A mouse's great height was also useful when returning fallen baby birds to their nests, which they did with a tenderness that belied the enormous size of their hands.

Possessing such height also meant mice could feed from the highest branches of trees leaving the lower for the smaller animals. Even then, if any fruits or nuts were left out of reach of their friends, they would use a small portion of their prodigious strength to shake the great trees so the remaining food would fall to those gathered at their feet.

With the care of such mice, the smaller animals grew and multiplied. And once there were many, the mice took it upon themselves to ferry some of the animals on their broad backs, taking them across the oceans to new lands, spreading many species all over the world.

For the smaller animals, there were many other benefits to keeping close to a mouse. With their incredibly sharp teeth and thick, durable claws, a mouse could easily dig through the earth and even solid rock. This let them make caves and caverns for themselves along with dens and burrows for those under their care.

Most knew it was best to rest underground back then. The sun was much closer to the Earth than it is now, making the days especially hot. You can still see this tendency to live underground in many modern animals, though they have to dig out homes for themselves these days.

After a while though, when all the fruit and nuts were eaten and their seeds had been scattered so that more trees would grow, it came time to move on. Even then, the ample body of a mouse provided shelter from the heat for all those that walked within its expansive shadow, making any foraging expedition that much more pleasant.

The mice did all these things and purposely so. They felt that their titanic size and incredible strength meant they had the greatest responsibility in maintaining the delicate balance of life upon the Earth. A sense of duty that the animals were very grateful for as it allowed for them to not only prosper, but also meant protection from one of the world's oldest and greatest threats. Dragons.

Dragons were not of the Earth. They dwelt in the sky and were the only living things known to be capable of surpassing a mouse in size. With their gigantic wings, cruel talons, and massive jaws, they would swoop down and gobble entire herds of the smaller animals, only to go looking for more, as a dragon was never satisfied. This was because the more a dragon ate, the larger it grew, and the larger it grew, the more it wanted to eat. The perpetual cycle made the winged reptiles especially greedy, never giving or sharing, even with their own kind.

The dragons' endless hunger clashed with the obligation all mice felt to maintain the precious balance of life, making the two gargantuan species the bitterest of enemies.

When hunting, an activity that was only interrupted by feeding and fighting, a dragon would soar across the sky, eyes scanning the ground. A foraging mouse, being the tallest of creatures, periodically rose on its hind legs, putting its massive head well over the highest trees, seeking potential danger. If the mouse spotted the dragon, it would sound an alarm that told all the other animals to take shelter in their burrows and dens.

Now, some might think it unwise to attack a mouse that could trample most modern buildings, but seeing its food vanish underground and out of reach was an enraging thing for a dragon. And this rage could only be directed at the alert mouse, being the only thing left in sight. You see, a dragon's greed was only matched by its pride, and by taking away its food, the mouse had challenged it. For a dragon, such a challenge could only result in a fight to the death.

But as all dragons would learn, the mice of that time were no trivial foe.

With pride struck and anger ablaze, the dragon would dive at the mouse with vicious arrays of talons and fangs bared. Even with such ferocity descending upon it, the mouse would not flee, for doing so would leave the hiding animals vulnerable. Rather, it would stand, preparing its own formidable claws and teeth.

Then, just as the dragon came into range, the mouse would leap, with the great agility of its kind, meeting the dragon in midair. The two would grapple for a second or two, biting and tearing furiously at one another before their combined weight saw them plummeting to the ground. When they hit, the impact was a thunder heard for miles around and shook the world even as they continued to ravage one another. The Earth still quakes occasionally from the mere memory of these tremendous bouts.

Often, the mouse had the advantage on the ground, more surefooted than the rarely landing dragon, but this by no means meant victory was easy or assured. Naturally, dragons sought new tactics to put the odds better in their favor and avoid stains on their pride. One of their earliest was to use the clouds to conceal their approach so they might take a mouse by surprise, gobbling up the smaller animals before their towering guardians could react.

And for a time, this worked. That is, until the mice created strategies of their own.

Unlike the prideful dragons, the mice could work together. And by having one of their own keep watch from atop a tall mountain, the peaks of which stabbed above even the clouds, the sentry mouse could warn all when a dragon was spotted with a resounding roar that carried over immense distances.

The dragons, seeking to counter this vigilance, turned to the sun and learned to drink its fire. With the sun's fury in their bellies, they could unleash great torrents of flame from their mouths to strike out at the mouse lookouts. These infernal assaults were often so fierce that the mountains themselves would melt, collapsing into pools of lava. Some burned so hot that they still smolder today as volcanoes. With the dragons' new power, the mice were left unable to strike back, flesh-searing flames lapping at their heels as they were forced to flee. But the dragon's pride and greed would once more prove an opportunity.

Because asking for aid was seen as a sign of weakness among dragons, and even if aid was given, this would mean dividing any spoils, dragons always fought alone. And a single dragon could only target a single mouse. This mouse would usually be the first seen; the mountaintop sentry. Under the dragon's fiery attack, the sentry mouse would flee down to its kin, calling a warning to all. As the dragon was forced low to keep the fleeing mouse in range of its flaming breath, other mice would leap at the dragon's flanks.

If one could get atop a dragon, the mouse would do all it could to tear off the dragon's great wings. For without its wings, a dragon would be forced to the ground, and a grounded dragon, even with the ability to breathe fire, was much more manageable than one in the air. Once this was done, the mice could face the wingless dragon and ensure its fall.

The dragons struggled heavily with the mice after this strategy was developed, for each dragon felled meant more mice were freed to work together in facing the rest. Pride, again, too great to join forces as their adversaries ensured that many dragons were brought down alone by growing numbers of unified mice. The bones of fallen dragons are still uncovered all over today, though without their iconic wings they are often mistaken for those of dinosaurs.

Still, even with mounting victories, battles became increasingly hard-won as these early bouts were often against younger and less experienced dragons. This left the older, larger, and far more powerful dragons remaining.

Furious over the loss of their kin, though only because it tarnished their pride, these ancient behemoths struck at the mice with primal savagery, determined to prove their superiority. More vast by many times than even the largest of the mice, the elder dragons still, however, fought on their own. This allowed the mice to counter even these dragons' incredible strength with teamwork and strategy. And one by one, albeit with tremendous effort from the mice, the great elder titans were defeated, all until there was only a single dragon left. But this was the eldest, largest, and most powerful of all; mother to the entire race.

The dragon queen.

Without the other dragons to threaten their animal friends, the mice of the world had them hide in their burrows and dens as they themselves amassed to face this final foe. Looking up at their greatest enemy, they roared in a menacing chorus, rattling tails, bristling fur, and baring tooth and claw in the hopes that they might send the colossal beast off with the display. For even with all of their strength gathered for the task, a battle with the queen of all dragons was an uncertain thing that none truly wanted.

At first, the aggressive showing appeared to work. The last dragon's mighty wings flapped, kicking up hurricanes of wind that the mice were forced to stalwartly endure, for showing any signs of weakness now, any drop in resolve, would ruin the ploy. They watched the dragon queen rise higher and higher along with their hopes, seeming to bid the world a contemptuous farewell.

But fleeing was not the monarch's plan at all.

From the fall of so many of her kind, the queen knew that challenging the mice directly would be a troublesome endeavor. Her strength was far beyond even a hundred mice, but the other elders had thought similarly, and now they were all gone. Getting close enough to use her fiery breath also had the chance, however slight, to fail, the mice having proven able to overcome this too. But they had to be dealt with. For most of all dragons, the queen was prideful. And that the mice, mere food to her, would not only challenge dragons but defeat them was a slight that could not be ignored nor forgiven.

She did not love her children. She did not mourn for them in any way. When she chose, she could simply create more. But what the victory of the mice over her brood hinted at was the possibility that mice were actually superior to dragons, and this was a stain on her pride that had to be removed by any and all means. To this end, the dragon queen rose up, letting her wings carry her gargantuan form toward the sun.

She had drunk from it already and knew that a belly full of fire would not be enough. No, her silent rage already burned white-hot, beyond even the sun's immeasurable heat. Barely contained by the dignity of her position, she knew drinking further would only cool her fury, and she would need the full force of the exquisitely violent maelstrom roiling within for what she intended now.

Far below, the mice continued to watch tentatively as the uneclipsable dragon left the world, reached the sun, and then flew beyond. Beginning to believe the unbelievable, that they had sent her on her way, a cheer was only just about to rise when the dragon queen turned, silencing them all. The mice then peered in uncertainty as the queen of dragons gripped the entirety of the burning celestial orb between her massive talons. All the mice could do was look on at the last dragon, her limbs flexing, tail whipping, and wings flapping in a flurry. And very, very slowly, the sun began to move. The dragon roared explosions, pent up fury forcing itself free as the sun unwillingly shifted from its time-honored place in the sky, and began drifting ever so slightly down toward the Earth.

As her plan dawned on the mice, it became clear that the pride of the dragon had driven it to madness. It intended to use the sun to destroy the mice. The dragon's mind was too crowded with insanity to fit any thought as to what would happen even if such a thing could be done. The mice were wiser, even in a state of shock. They knew if the sun collided with the Earth, it would mean the end of all things, the mice, the animals, the world, and even the dragons. The queen was too prideful and too greedy to see past the moment, to see past the immediate goal and gratification of destroying the mice. This left her blind to the fact that if the world perished under the sun, there would be no more animals to feed upon, nothing left for herself or any new brood she might spawn. In lashing out so recklessly, she would be destroying herself and any future her kind might have.

As the queen pushed with the zeal of one beyond all reason, the sun steadily picked up speed, coming closer and closer with each terrible second.

But the mice did not flee.

They were afraid, of course. Their end was nearing and at an alarming rate, the very sun about to smash into the Earth. But they stood, each and every one, watching it approach with grim determination. They were mice; the largest and strongest beings upon the Earth. With such power came the greatest of responsibility. The other animals, and now even the world depended on them. This meant the very most was expected of them, and thus, they expected the very most from themselves. They drew strength from one another and the knowledge that they all stood against this inexorable threat together, not a single one cowering away. They were mice.

They watched the dragon queen give one last push before dropping away, too exhausted from her enormous deed to keep up with the now rapidly descending sun. She looked to the mice, standing defiantly, and wanted to laugh at their audacity in the face of death, but hadn't the breath to manage it.

Seeing the threat the falling sun posed to all they cared for, the very smallest of the mice chose to be hurled by the very largest. Still quite substantial, the small mice were sent flying up to meet the doom that sought to end them all. They kicked at the searing surface of the blazing orb in a frantic attempt to slow its descent, falling back to the Earth with terrible burns upon their feet. But they did not give up. Each only rose to try again, though despite the brave and valiant effort, the sun drew closer.

Then the more agile of the mice began racing up the highest mountains to leap at the sun, joining in. But the sun continued to fall.

Soon, the larger, heavier mice could contribute simply by jumping from the ground to kick and shove, desperate to keep the sulfurous sphere's all-consuming fire from reaching the world.

The sun was slowed but would not stop.

In moments, the tallest of the mice needed only reach up to press against the terrible molten surface. They braced themselves against the Earth but were pushed down by the sun's astronomical weight. As the tallest fell to their knees, hands sizzling in the ravenous inferno, the others stood with them, plunging their own hands into the searing heat. With all their efforts, the sun slowed a bit more, but continued to weigh down upon them.

All the mice were now on their knees, pressing with all they had to keep the sun from destroying the Earth. Their fur ignited, setting them ablaze as each closed their eyes against the blinding light and horrific heat, focusing everything on simply keeping from being crushed.

The sun slowed even more but still fell.

As they burned, their cries of torturous pain joined with their kin's in an agonized crescendo that the dragon queen relished from above as if it were the most sublime of symphonies. The mice, though, their eyes shut tight against the piercing light and scorching heat, hearing the entirety of their race fighting on despite their suffering gave each the strength to maintain its own small fragment of the struggle even as they were forced down further. Now on their backs, feet and tails rose to join their melting hands in bracing against the hateful sun, slowing it further, but not enough to halt it.

This was it. They each felt it. The mice had done all they could and still could not keep the sun from falling. Their bodies were steadily burning away before its primordial fury. All they could do was turn away from the boundless heat for one final look at their beloved Earth, one last memory before it was all lost.

And when they did, they saw the smaller animals, looking on from their dens and burrows.

The hope that had always shone in their eyes in the presence of the mice was fading along with their guardians. It was being replaced with fear, the horrible realization that all would now end dawning upon them. It was understood that if the mice fell here, the Earth would be scorched to a ruin. Without the Earth, there could be no life, no future for any of them; the trees, the animals, or the mice. All would end if the dragon queen won.

The mice could not allow this. They could not fail. The Earth needed to be protected. The animals had to survive. Life must go on, even if they would not be around to see it.

With this acceptance of ultimate responsibility came a surge of renewing vigor, each among them bringing forth everything they had left, leaving nothing for a future that would not come otherwise. The mice began to plunge the remains of their limbs deeper into the agonizing depths of the charring sun. If their hands were already gone, they pushed with their forearms. And if their forearms were gone, they pushed with their elbows. The same with their feet, shins, and knees. They had to hurry before they were burned away to nothing. Some were already so far gone, they could only offer a belly or a nose but they plunged them in together as deeply as they could. For as long as a single mouse drew breath, it would fight for the Earth, for the sake of the other animals, for the sake of life, and for the sake of a future!

And the sun stopped. It still smashed them terribly and burned even their bones away, but the pressure upon them ceased to increase.

An immense elation flooded through the remaining mice, seeing that they had at least managed this. With such a monumental accomplishment, their spirits were ignited, burning fervently along with their ruined bodies. This made the mice feel that if they could manage this much, then maybe they could do just a little bit more. Mustering themselves again, all together, they gave another great shove.

And the sun rose.

Struggling to contain their growing cheer, relief, and amazement so it could be channeled into greater resolve, the mice gave another push, lifting the sun even more. Able to breathe more freely now, their bodies no longer being smashed between the Earth and the sun, the mice looked again to the smaller animals.

Hope was returning to their eyes. Hope that the mice could prevail, that all might not be lost, that the possibility of a future was not gone, because the world may yet be saved. The mice drew strength from their friends and the spirit bolstering belief the smaller animals had in them to protect and preserve life. This granted the mice the energy to push once more, sending the sun and its searing flames back up and away with greater speed.

An uproarious laugh caught in the dragon queen's throat when she finally noticed that her grand and masterful plan was fast unraveling. It hadn't even been conceived as possible that the attack could fail, for how could mere mice stop the fall of the sun? It took a long moment for the concept to take root, other explanations, each less plausible than the last, passing through her royal mind in an effort to explain this unpredictable course of events. But after that moment, one thing became clear. The plan was not going as it should have. Once this settled, the scalding embarrassment from a pride now even further tarnished spurred her into bursting forth with reckless speed.

Wings flapping fervently, she no longer wondered how it happened. The mechanics of it were not important. Her thoughts were simple. The mice had stopped the sun. In doing so, they dared to defy her kind yet again just by surviving. This was an insult that could not be borne. The mice had to die!

Of the mice, those that could rose with the ascending sun, shoving for all they were worth one last time before collapsing, their bodies now utterly and completely spent. This final effort sent the sun hurtling back into the sky where it belonged.

Unable to contain the roiling rage within her, the dragon queen unleashed a deafening roar as she raced to right her scheme. But her maw was so great that it blocked her view and she failed to see that the sun was flying right for her.

When they met, the sun proved the harder of the two and upon being struck, the dragon queen was instantly shattered into millions of blazing pieces. These fragments, still burning with the queen's white-hot fury, scattered far and wide becoming all the stars in the sky. The only piece of her to remain close was a single titanic eye. And as the dragon queen's spirit faded, it grew pale with her passing, becoming what we now know as the moon.

The sun, after smashing through the dragon queen, went on to settle where it is and has remained ever since.

With the last dragon now gone, the Earth was saved, and the sun was back where it was meant to be, though a fair bit further away than before. Seeing all this, the animals emerged from their dens and burrows with a great cheer. They reveled with thoughts of cooler days and a dragonless future, but it was quickly noted that one voice was missing from their revelry; one voice that was always heard above the others for being the greatest and strongest of all.

The animals approached where the mice had stood in defiance, where they had fought to protect the Earth and the future of all their kind. But all that was left of the great heroes were great mounds of ash.

The cheers of the animals turned to whimpers of mourning as the winds, still blowing from the sun's impact with the dragon queen, carried what remained of the valiant mice off and into the past. A vigil was held over the lost protectors, each animal solemnly paying their respects to those who had sacrificed so much.

And in that silence came a noise none had ever heard before. A noise of high pitch yet very small.

Curious, the animals watched, and as the ash continued to float away, forms could be seen shifting about beneath it, each making the strange little sound. More ash drifted off and the forms were revealed to be mice, though these were astonishingly minuscule compared to the immense guardians that defeated the dragons and repelled the sun.

It seemed that their great bodies had near completely, but not quite, burned away, leaving what was once the largest of Earth's creatures now among the very smallest. Despite this change, the animals cheered for the return of the mice. And even though they could no longer protect as they once had, the mice were given a well-deserved place of honor among the other animals.

Over time, however, it was found that no matter how much they ate or how many days passed, the mice never would regain their once great size or strength. Rather, they remained small, though their bare hands and feet reminded the other animals of the time the mice had saved them by pushing away the sun and ending the threat of dragons. This insured that they were well cared for to the end of their days.

But as generations came and went, the past heroism of the mice became a thing of history. A history which then became legend. A legend which then passed into myth, remembered by fewer and fewer. Until at last, the great acts of their ancestors were forgotten completely, even by the mice themselves. Nowadays, most have a difficult time even believing that some of the smallest creatures had once saved the world. But they had, long ago, in that forgotten age, when mice were giants.

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