It was late spring and the forest was full of life. Otters played in the streambed, squirrels chased each other, a bronze deer bowed its head to drink, and from behind a patch of brush, a gray whisker twitched. It was a mouse.
The mouse lifted her delicate nose into the air and sniffed. Her ears were pricked as she listened for threatening noises. Her eyes glinted, watchful and ready.
Perceiving no danger, the mouse scurried over to a patch of tall grass, already seeding. She grasped a seed between her fragile paws and lifted her light brown body so that she was sitting on her haunches. Suddenly, she detected a faint scent on the breeze. It was a mouse, that she was sure of, but it smelled like no forest mouse she knew. Its scent seemed somehow foreign and unfamiliar, with a strange soft undertone. Then she glimpsed the creature. It was snow white, so different from the brown of the forest mice. The stranger's fur was far whiter than her belly fur, as white as snow or the clouds in the sky.
The little brown mouse scurried off quickly; everyone would want to know about the newcomer. And she just had to be the one to tell them.
