Chapter 9: Purpose
A/N: The sad chapter…
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"How many survivors?"
Hours had passed since the cave-in. Some time in the dead of night, the Telmarines abandoned their work and fell strangely silent. Cautiously, Reepicheep and Peepiceek removed the thin layer of dirt that was over the cellar exit. It was a different way out than the one that had been completely blocked. Once outside, the Mice saw that there was no sign of live Humans. A few carcasses were scattered on the woodland floor and the others had mysteriously fled. This scene reminded Reepicheep of the day his mother died, only this time the killing of the Humans was not Mouse's work.
In the deep shadow of a fallen tree, Sarclaw and his Wolves were sitting with grim faces. Some of their jaws and paws were bespattered with Telmarine blood. "We heard you were in danger and came to help," explained Sarclaw. His golden eyes and grave face were full of understanding, but his words were few. "What would you have me do now?"
Reepicheep lifelessly indicated for Peepiceek to bring out the other Mice. Then he turned to Sarclaw and said, "You have our sincerest thanks, good Wolf. If you would be so generous as to lend us your paws in digging out the Burrow, we would be most grateful."
Sarclaw nodded, but seemed hesitant. "What should I do when I uncover—that is, when I find—"
"Aslan willing, whatever you find will be alive." Reepicheep spoke brusquely. "Let us dig."
Geeniveek came out of the cellar, looking distant and grieved. "Reepicheep," she said, "I think you should rest. Others may handle this."
"Others?" Reepicheep turned away as if he had suddenly lost all memory of his friend. "There are no others."
Geeniveek started back. "You are wrong; there's me, Peepiceek, and about six others."
"Then go and take care of them." All of Reepicheep's words were distant and lifeless. Hours passed and he dug with the Wolves all night. By midmorning the next day, the burrow was finally dug out. Reepicheep, totally encrusted in dirt, ignored the sunshine and the pleasant sounds of forest life. Everything was colorless and dead to him.
He faced Sarclaw, and asked the dismal question. "How many survivors?"
"Seven Mice plus you, Peepiceek and the Lady," reported Sarclaw. "That's not counting the two live Mice we dug out from underground."
"Twelve, altogether," Reepicheep murmured. "That makes twenty casualties from the battle and the collapse."
Sarclaw nodded his shaggy head, looking heartbroken. "What shall I do with the bodies?"
Reepicheep, still dazed, looked over at his fallen people. Geeniveek and the others were holding their dead loved ones and crying bitterly. Greenathreep and the Mouse Chief were among the dead. The dead Mice were almost unrecognizable, their half-crushed bodies black with earth. Reepicheep could not stand the sight of this. If his people had only been a little stronger, a little bigger, this could have been avoided. If Reepicheep himself had not been so rude in refusing the evacuation plan, perhaps more Mice would be alive.
"Reepicheep? What shall we do with the bodies?"
"Burn them," answered Reepicheep in a grim whisper. "Burn the Burrow out. Burn the glade. Burn the whole cursed world."
Sarclaw looked shocked. "But—" he began.
"Do it!!!" Reepicheep roared. He started running away as fast as his feet would take him. He ran from nothing and into nothing. He tripped, but suddenly Geeniveek and Peepiceek were there beside him. They lifted his fainting body off the ground and carried him. Reepicheep did not know where he was going; he did not know anything.
He was put down on a bed somewhere. "I have to stay awake," Reepicheep muttered feverishly. "The Mice still need help."
"You've been helping us all night," said Geeniveek, pushing Reepicheep back into bed. "You need to shut your mouth and get some rest."
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When Reepicheep woke up, he felt like he had been slapped in the face with awareness. He remembered every detail about the cave-in, and noticed how filthy and hungry and sad he was. He was not physically tired after his long sleep, but his heart and soul felt like they had been stuffed with millstones and were dragging along on the ground like weighted balls.
Reepicheep noticed he was in a bed inside a hollowed-out tree. A ladder led further up into the tree. A kindly squirrel must have leant the Mice its home, for now. Reepicheep slumped out of bed and started climbing the ladder. He went to the very top floor and came out on a balcony which was carved directly into a thick tree branch. From up here, Reepicheep had a great view of the shuddering woods. It was evening and the air was cool, but a gentle breeze brought up an unpleasant scent.
Smoke.
Reepicheep saw the fire and could hold in his emotions no more. The place where the Burrow had been was burning away fiercely, taking all the familiar trees and brambles with it. The fire burned away all the furniture and supplies inside the Burrow, along with the twenty bodies of the fallen Mice.
Tears sprung to Reepicheep's eyes. He clambered down the tree and ran deep into the woods, where nobody could find him. When he was sure he was alone, Reepicheep fell on his knees and let out a long, wordless, heartbroken scream of grief. The tears kept falling as Reepicheep tromped around uttering strings of curses.
"Aslan!" he screamed insanely. "Cut out my heart! It's too heavy for me to bear!"
What was there to live for now?
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The last Mice in Narnia remained in the tree for many months. The Squirrel who was letting them stay here was named Pattertwig. He was annoying to live with, but the Mice were grateful to him. They did not try to join any resistance, but they remained close friends with Sarclaw and his Wolves.
Peepiceek grieved openly, while Geeniveek was slower in recovery; and Reepicheep did not express his sadness at all. Yet somehow, his misery leaked out as the weeks passed.
"I know you are burdened," Geeniveek told her friend candidly. "What happened to us was horrible, but my father used to say that everything has a purpose."
The Mice were sitting on a limb high in Pattertwig's tree. Peepiceek was with them too, trying to be as cheerful as possible. When Geeniveek gave her bit of advice, something inside Reepicheep rebelled.
"That is not a difficult concept for you," he said bitterly; "now that your father is dead you may do whatever you please. You have always desired a warrior's living. Happy Geeniveek now, with no father to hold her back!"
Geeniveek stood up and shouted, "How dare you?! Reepicheep, how can you say that about me?" She moved toward him threateningly, but Peepiceek stopped her.
"Could you give us a moment?" he asked.
Geeniveek growled and left. There was a silence.
"Do not look at me like that," Reepicheep muttered. "Accuse me of insulting the Lady, lecture me with your optimism, but do not give me silent stares."
"She's right," said Peepiceek firmly. "Everything has a purpose, Reepicheep. It was no accident we survived, and—"
"It was no accident my father died?!" cried Reepicheep in uncontrolled rage. "What does that say about the great guiding force of Aslan? Can you explain how he could let something like this happen?"
Peepiceek sighed heavily. "No Reepicheep. I don't understand how this could happen, but part of knowing Aslan is to trust him. When you cannot justify or understand what he is doing, all you can do is trust. Or give up on everything. Things will work out for good, even if things seem completely contradictory to us."
"What if I cannot believe this?" Reepicheep asked.
"You can, Reep," said Peepiceek empathically. "The question is not whether you can, but whether you will. And do not misunderstand me; you are not forced to believe. Given the alternate of despair, though…" Peepiceek shook his head. "It's hard for me to tell you these things when I'm struggling with them too. Maybe it would help to think of it like this: if your mother hadn't died protecting me, I never would have grown up to save you from the Telmarine's ax during the battle. If you had been killed, you could not have saved the twelve of us. What if your mother died so that years later, a dozen Mice would make it through an impossible catastrophe and come out stronger?"
"My mother couldn't see the future," stated Reepicheep.
"No. But Aslan could."
There was a heavy silence. Reepicheep felt furious at his friend for suggesting that anything good could come out of Dobereep's death. "Death is never a good thing. Aslan shouldn't have made it."
"Aslan didn't make her die," replied Peepiceek. "The evil in this world was brought into Narnia by mortals like us. We are living the consequences of evil now. However, that doesn't mean that somebody as loving as Aslan couldn't take those brutal consequences and bring something good out of them." Peepiceek embraced his friend, adding softly, "I know you have the courage to get through this."
Reepicheep turned away, trying to think things through. Courage isn't the problem, he thought. The problem is that I'm not sure if I want to get through this. After all this has happened, I don't know if I have a purpose.
Just then the memory of Rhevercheek's words from years before came back to Reepicheep's mind: "Trust Aslan, and trust what you know to be true in your deepest self." Reepicheep closed his eyes and tried to find his deepest self, his greatest convictions, or his most inspiring ideals. Everything seemed cloudy until a silvery, mystical voice voice sang some familiar words into his soul:
"Where sky and water meet,
Where the waves grow sweet,
Doubt not, Reepicheep,
To find all you seek;
There is the Utter East."
These words did not make sense now, but they had had a strange spell to them. These words from Reepicheep's childhood gave him visions of courage, worth, and destiny. They told tales of a grand unprecedented quest, and a quality of life like nothing he had ever imagined. Reepicheep knew he could get on with his life, although the things associated with this horrible experience would trouble him for a long time.
"There's nothing you can't do," said Peepiceek, smiling through tears. "And with that in mind, the Mice would like to appoint you as the new Chief."
"Me?!" exclaimed Reepicheep in surprise.
"The people have spoken," confirmed the other Mouse.
Reepicheep stood up, newly inspired. "Then," he said gravely, "I am honored to become Reepicheep the Master Mouse, and knight of Narnia!"