Only one review for the last chapter? Was it seriously that bad that you didn't even know where to start with your critisim?
Well, I guess then I'll have to try to get better by myself. Gonna at least give me a sign if I'm on the right way? Like, write 'up' for getting better, 'down' for getting worse, or 'same' for, well I guess you know the drill.
So now on to the chapter I'm willing you to judge:
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Chapter 3: March – Courage
Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear.
- Mark Twain
With a huff he tucked his face deeper into the scarf, trying to shelter himself from the omnipresent cold as good as possible.
Against his chest he felt a scurrying, as seven set of feet tried to make their way to a place inside his jacket that resonated more of his body-warmth.
He clicked his tongue in irritation and tried not to squirm at the unusual sensation, which was a task much harder than he it should be, in his opinion.
"Would you please stop it already?" he reprimanded them and instantly all movement stilled.
He heaved a relieved sigh and continued his way, down the hill through the snow-covered landscape.
The calendar had just changed to march, and although the meteorological spring was said to begin in approximately twenty days, the temperatures hadn't yet shown any sign of rising.
He knew, a few miles south the first buds probably were sprouting already. He'd seen that happen often enough, but here at the north's end of the land, amidst the mountains, winter was like a veil that persistently refused to lift.
"Why did they have to build this stupid library up this high?" he complained to no one in particular beside the wind that blew icily around his ears, forcing him as deep into the superfibre cloth as was physically possible, with only his eyes barely remaining visible.
Yes, he knew it was normal for the temperatures to be low in these heights, but this was simply ridiculous for early march.
He stood against it nonetheless though, as he hardly had any other options for reaching his destination.
And although he was used to cold winters and all of his internal whimpering and complaining rather were a way of showing his irritation, he was quite relieved when he finally was engulfed by the warmth of the library-building.
"Nezumi! You've come already?", a girl with a huge stack of books in her arms greeted him joyously. Her auburn shoulder-length hair was held back by a blue hair-band, adorned with a little ribbon. And although her overzealous behaviour and enthusiasm seemed to say otherwise, the shimmer in her green eyes held testimony to her intellect.
And she adored the books she held with an intensity that led Nezumi to at least tolerate her as a co-worker.
"I know your shift is going to begin in about an hour, but I could really use your help here.", she practically begged, looking at him like a lost puppy. "The new stock has arrived, and we'll open in one hour, and I've got like dozens of reservations that still have to be filed and prepared... I don't know how I should get all this done by myself."
He'd never had something left for puppies, but he'd already come here with the intention to start working earlier, so he shrugged out of his jacket, saying: "As long as I'm getting paid the overtime."
She glanced at him, gratitude written all over her face. "Thanks a lot, you're my saviour! Could you please start with the reservations while I sort these into the shelves? That'd be great."
Without so much as waiting for his answer she already scuttled off in a hurry.
„Saviour, huh? Seems they're just as loose with words up here... A widespread phenomenon among townsmen, apparently." he mused, while moving to drop his jacket and bag in the back-room, putting on the vest that indicated he wasn't a clueless customer.
He hated the thing, especially since it hindered his blending in with the crowd to find a quiet corner to read, but his co-workers would call out to him anyway—which made it impossible to spend his days peacefully either way—and his boss had threatened to fire him multiple times if he were not to obey. Not that it this threat held any real meaning to Nezumi, after all he would easily find a new job with his looks, but on the other hand, it wasn't worth the effort.
„Now, you guys wait here. And behave." he told the mice that jumped out of his pockets. Hamlet looked back at him with a gaze that seemed to tell him 'I will make sure they do'.
„You better do.", he replied to the unvoiced words. „After all they're your children, so better take care of them."
An affirmative squeak, then the whole bunch of mice disappeared somewhere in between the boxes that were occupying most of the space in the little room.
Some part of Nezumi cringed at the thought that they would spent all their day in laziness, not doing the least bit to be of any profit to him.
But the mouse pups were only a few months old, and were neither resistant enough to brace the cold residing outside the door nor exactly trained to do any sort of job.
Although Hamlet and Cravat were doing a fairly good job at teaching them to obey and showing them certain techniques that were required to be helpful to Nezumi, they were having a hard time, having to overcome the silliness that came with young age, and that couldn't even be avoided by the sole fact that all of them were more intelligent than normal mice.
He only was lucky that Cravat was actually supporting Hamlet with raising the children, because Ophelia—being the moody, wild mouse she was—surely wasn't such a big help.
He had always known it had been the right choice to take three male mice with him, but Hamlet and Cravat were getting old, and secretly he was happy to know he'd own their successors if they should pass away.
It had come as a surprise to him, when Hamlet had turned up with the black-white spotted female mouse about three months ago. They had been passing by the former Mao territory at that time.
Not because Nezumi had wanted to, but after more than two years of constant wandering he had started to simply let his feet guide the way and see were he ended up.
And back then it had been the land that had been his home a long time ago.
It was the closest he had been to No.6 ever since leaving.
The field of ashes that transitioned into green, healthy, lush flora after only a few meters had laid silently and untouched in front of him, as he had gazed over the color gradient.
Obviously, the land was recovering, the fire not having burnt all of the buds, not having destroyed all of the forest and the nature was reclaiming the territory step by step, feasting on the nurturing ashes.
He had somehow feared the memories would resurface if he should ever come back there, but they hadn't. It had come to him as a surprise that watching the field didn't spur any sort of longing, any fear, any memories of the horrible fire that, back then, had torn his life apart.
No, he had been able to watch the scene in front of him with a distant remembrance, feelings of safety and insecurity dulled by something he couldn't quite pinpoint.
Perhaps it's true. Perhaps time can heal all wounds.
In the distance he had seen the sunlight being reflected by the silver buildings of No.6.
The city had been too far away for him to actually make any distinct observations, to make out how it had changed or stayed the same, but it still made its existence obvious over many miles.
But this hadn't been the time for his return. It might have been a step toward it, but it wasn't the final one.
Right before he had turned to retreat into a direction that at that point still had to be determined, he had seen a little group of people, moving toward the forest from No.6.
He had counted seven persons, not really more than black dots against the yellow background of the wasteland, but it wasn't too difficult to guess who they were.
Compared to all that lived in the caves it were only a few, which made him believe they were the first ones, trying to test whether it was once again possible to live in the forest.
His thoughts too fixated on the people and the city he had firstly noticed the enlargement of his follower group several hours after he had left the scene.
That the spotted newcomer's ancestors were similar to Hamlet and Cravat's was obvious right from the beginning. Well, perhaps someone illiterate might have seen a normal mouse, but he wasn't illiterate. It was the shape of her head, the placement of her eyes, the way she moved. Though most of all it was the way she had looked at him when he had noticed her standing beside Hamlet.
The gaze of fearlessness and determination was something no ordinary mouse would ever accomplish when being faced with a human stranger. And as much as it might sound like a cliche, he had seen the intelligence in her eyes.
That was the moment he had realized that perhaps he and his mice hadn't been the only survivors. The mice living with the Mao had always been intelligent and resistant, and when faced with dangerous situations it wasn't unlikely that they would be able to take shelter and survive.
He had remembered once reading a book about a theory as for why the reptiles that had inhabited the planet billions of years ago had been almost extinguished while the mammals had survived seemingly effortlessly, claiming the supremacy. One of the theories involved a comet, a fire and ash that had clouded the sun, making the earth go cold. And it had involved mice.
Because they were little and ate pretty much everything, they were able to survive by burying themselves in the earth and feeding on the plants that were left, or on the deceased dinosaurs.
Which meant that he should have expected some of the mice to survive. It had been a logical and very likely occurrence.
So he had almost wordlessly accepted the growth of their group, figuring that if she had survived by herself for that long she might even teach Hamlet and Cravat a little about how to scout for food themselves, without relying on him to provide them with anything.
It was a trait they both seemed to have outgrown while staying in a domesticated environment, where they easily could feast of crumbs that were left.
Not that they actually had changed their way of eating that much in the last two month spent with the female mouse, but at least they made sure to find their crumbs elsewhere, and not on his plate.
Which was okay with him. After all he didn't mind them scaring the No.1 citizens from time to time. Kept him entertained in his little one room flat, when he heard his neighbours scream through the way too thin walls.
He might have been able to afford a flat in a better neighbourhood, with more space and less obnoxious and overly curious neighbours, but he didn't see any meaning in spending more money than necessary when he didn't spent that much time inside anyway.
Most of his time he spent in the library. As for why No.1 had insisted on building it outside the city, high up in the mountain still was a mystery to him, but he somehow liked the solitude of it, so he didn't give it that much thought.
The only thing that somehow bothered him was that he had to walk about one hour to reach his workplace, and most of times he had to go before the sun had even risen, when the wind—that carried snowflakes and sometimes even ice shards with it—was the most vicious.
He hoped that once spring fully hit those walks would become much more enjoyable.
In fact he didn't mind walking for one hour, since he liked to be on the way, even if that way always led him to the same goal.
And when the temperatures were to rise the mice would be able to collect information once again. He had refrained from building any new robotic mice to do the job, since it seemed like too much effort to acquire the materials and devices necessary for doing so.
Yes, information was always a useful good, no matter where you went, but he hadn't got any customers, hadn't got any reputation and didn't intend to spend enough time anywhere to attain either.
But a little tidbit, sold to the right person might as well prove to be an easy little side job, though not enough to actually make for his living.
That was what the library was there for after all.
At first he had been suspicious if it'd be a job he would stand, having to be polite to customers, but with a little bit of acting it had proven to be a piece of the cake. The only thing that really aggravated him was the way some of the books were treated. For sure, he didn't need every book to be at its righteous place, and if it looked like it had been read quite thoroughly, he didn't mind that either.
But if anyone came back with a formerly intact book that now had stained or even torn pages, god forbid they were treated by Nezumi.
No threat of his boss, no rebuke or rant could make him tolerate the mutilation of books. Who came here, lent them and intended to read them, had to treat them with the right amount of respect.
"You know, it's quite brave of you to stand up to our boss.", Elly told him as she was standing beside him, filling the library database with the information about which books were reserved, lent or overdue.
The red-haired co-worker was quite strange. She wasn't intimidated by him, and either she was too stupid to notice them or she simply decided to ignore all of his snarly, sarcastic comments. Neither did she really engage in the flirting he had tried on his first day. Someone who worships you is much easier to control and deal with—the first rule for living easily.
However, she hadn't fallen into his act, and nonetheless had treated him as if they had been friends ever since. Whatever she said was what was on her mind that exact moment, she didn't think about being polite or considerate, she simply was her bubbly, naïve self no matter the recipient of her talking. And even though her acting as if they were friends annoyed him to some point... he had to admit her nature fascinated him to a very easily calculable, very little but nonetheless existent amount.
Perhaps everyone who's grown up in a city, leading a sheltered life goes around assuming everyone's bound to be their friend.
Still, as easy as she was to read, as easy as her actions were to predict, sometimes she caught him off-guard with what she said.
"What leads you to think it's brave? They're his books, so defending them should be his priority, not mine. And seriously, he's an old crock, he hardly can do me anything." Nezumi replied mockingly although he knew his employer wouldn't be hearing him anyway.
"Well, I don't think I would be able to do it. Stand up to him to protect my ideals." She said, while scanning the last few books. "I'd be much too afraid of loosing my job. This means a lot to me, so I'm getting easily scared of doing something like that. I don't have as much courage as you do."
"Courage? You think that's courage? Not letting your boss have his way with you?" Sometimes Nezumi couldn't believe other people's viewpoints. At one point on his journey he had understood that the way people thought was to an almost ridiculous amount determined on where they grew up.
To call him 'courageous' because of something this petty... it was a thing no one from the West Block would ever have thought of.
"Well, yes, it requires much more courage then anything I've ever done."
"Oh I don't think so." Nezumi noticed, lacing his voice with the amount of sarcasm he needed to get her interested, earning a questioning gaze. "Combining a blue hair-band with red hair and green eyes surely requires a lot of courage."
"Is it really that bad? Jem said it was okay..." she wondered aloud, laughing her embarrassment off.
Jem. Nezumi instantly knew he had set something loose he better shouldn't have.
It was his own fault. He should have expected her to come up with Jem sooner or later. What now followed was inevitable. She went into full swoon mode.
His greatest sorrow, though, was that he couldn't even make her stop by claiming he didn't want to hear anything about someone he didn't knew. Since in fact he did know Jem.
It was a horrible coincidence, that out of all No.1 residents his library co-worker could date it had to be the main actor of the theatre he had auditioned and got a role at.
So since he knew she wouldn't stop all too soon, he simply went by blanking her voice out, an ability he had pretty much perfected in the last years.
He hardly even noticed the next hours passing, being chased from one point to another, having to change his roles every two minutes due to the customers likes and on top having to succeed in avoiding Elly—who seemed to be especially talkative that day—until her shift was over.
From then on it was at least a little more relaxed, since one of the most tiring tasks was accomplished, and from five past meridem onwards, most of No.1's residents didn't bother with a walk to the library anymore.
As he went to put the books returned that day back into their rightful shelf space, he couldn't help but wonder about what Elly had said.
Courage.
Standing up to the old crook certainly wasn't a sign of courage, he knew that much. His motivation was pride, perhaps, and for someone else it might have been stupidity, but in no case it could be counted as courageous.
But had he ever done anything he himself considered courageous, brave?
If he was honest, he didn't. It wasn't that he regretted all of his choices, or that he thought he should have acted brave at any point, since doing something brave pretty much equaled doing something reckless in his vocabulary and that wasn't a desirable course of action. It was bound to lead to death sooner or later.
Although, perhaps... he had hardly ever thought about how or when he would return, but his visit to the Mao forest had somehow got him wondering.
He had left because he wasn't ready. He had left because he was afraid.
That was the moment he realized that he wasn't courageous. Not in the least bit.
Per definition, courageous didn't mean to do something reckless, to do it against better reason. It meant was to do something potentially dangerous. Or to simply overcome one's fear.
A silent laugh escaped his lips and he shook his head to forcefully interrupt this train of thoughts.
Let's get this finished and if no customer drops by in the next ten minutes I'll close up early. If I already give deeper thought to what she says I certainly need a little rest and a very good book.
But even after ridding himself of the stupid vest, his usual clothes signaling him momentary freedom, after picking up the mice, locking the doors behind him and finally being on his way home his mind wasn't as devoid of thoughts about courage as he'd wanted it to.
There was only one thing he needed to obtain to be able to let his feet carry him back to No.&.
Okay, mind, that's it. I'm no fucking lion!
And with that he pointedly slung the superfibre cloth around his neck, letting his actions show his annoyance about his thoughts and recited Shakespeare's sonnets to keep himself busy.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
So, first Nezumi centered chapter. I bet you noticed there wasn't much going on, but like with Shion I felt that I needed a... let's call it explanative chapter first.
But seriously now, I need your opinion: Should I simply continue with contemplative chapters, where nothing is really happening?
Because apparently a lot of you didn't seem to like the last chapter, and well, I know that I'm much better at writing contemplative stuff than real actions or dialogues, and duh, the prompts surely are open for deep and contemplative interpretation, but I thought it might get boring if nothing really 'happened'...
So tell me, would you bear with me while I'm trying to practise writing real activities, or would you prefer if I'd continue the whole thing in a manner like the first instead of the second chapter? (which turned out that long since I still had to throw contemplative content in... I simply can't seem to flip the switch and turn it completely off)
I'd need your feedback for the activity-ones, though, since I completely can't make out whether they've turned out good, due to some omnipresent hate towards my own work that lasts for about the first two month's after writing it.
So, my judgement definitely is prejudgmental on that matter.
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this and'll keep on reading.