A close up of a mouse sitting on a table with a book

The old country cabin creaked softly in the gentle night breeze. Moonlight streamed in through the round windowpane, casting a pale glow over the worn wooden floorboards. Curled up on a rag rug in the corner was a tiny mouse, busily working away. With his tiny paws he carefully held a toothpick, using it to dip into an open sharpie lying next to him. His nose twitched as he concentrated, using the toothpick like a pen to write in minuscule letters on a scrap of paper. The inky words were too small for anyone but him to read. After finishing his writing, the mouse tucked the paper into a small tin can attached to a spool of thread. He then skillfully tied one end of the string to the can, using his sharp teeth to pull the knots tight. Standing on his hind legs, the mouse cast the can out the window, sending it rappelling down the outside wall of the cabin on its thread. Fireflies blinked in the moonlit field nearby as the mouse's makeshift letter disappeared into the long grass, headed for another tiny creature somewhere in the night.