For the next two days, Rosaline fed Randy so much cheese that he felt his face would turn into mozzarella. Wedge after wedge, slice after slice, crumb after crumb found its way onto his plate, relentlessly.
Then, on the morning of the third day, he was jolted awake by the sound of furious shouting.
"He will not enter this house!" Dad roared. Randy had never heard his father raise his voice like that.
"Oh, but he will," Mum yelled back, "And if you don't like it, Romero, go back to your tunnels to dig holes!"
"Very well," Dad replied stiffly. A moment later, the front door slammed with such force that a fine layer of dust sifted down from the ceiling like angry snow.
Randy peeked out from his bedroom doorway. The storm had passed, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake. He tiptoed towards his mother. She stood alone in the middle of the kitchen, looking small and rather miserable.
"Are you okay, Mum?" Randy asked tentatively. "What's going on?"
Rosaline waved a dismissive paw, her gaze distant. "Nothing, dear. Nothing to worry about." She managed a small, brittle smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Help yourself to some cheese. I need to go out for a while."
And just like that, she was gone. Randy stared after her, bewildered. This was highly unusual. Mum, not forcing cheese upon him and leaving him unsupervised at home? It felt like a dream come true, yet something about her strained smile and faraway look felt so odd that he couldn’t bring himself to rejoice.
Left alone, Randy couldn't resist the allure of the town square, even though he was still grounded. He slipped out of the apartment and down the wall tunnels. But the square, usually a hotbed of sideways glances and whispered comments about the strange only-child in the bright jumper, was different today: no one noticed him. No mocking whispers, no curious ogling, nothing.
Instead, the entire town was abuzz, consumed by the scandalous events of yesterday's Cheese Fair. Randy spent the next few hours lurking near gossiping groups, piecing together the story from hushed whispers and indignant squeaks.
The Cheese Fair was the absolute highlight of Villagloriosa's social calendar. Once every moon, any mouse with a curdling ambition could showcase their cheesemaking skills and share their creations with the community. The whole affair traditionally kicked off with a long, rather repetitive speech by Euphemia herself, extolling the virtues and divine perfection of cheese and reminding everyone how grateful they should be to Glorioso. Most mice attended religiously, even if the speech was dull enough to age cheese ahead of time.
But this time things had gone spectacularly off-script. A strange mouse had dared to interrupt Euphemia mid-speech! Worse still, his interruption involved mentioning "Wild food" as a viable alternative to cheese. But it got even worse: he talked about "sweets" — no, much worse — he mentioned candy! CANDY! The sheer outrage!
Sweets, you see, were viewed in Villagloriosa with the kind of fear usually reserved for fire-breathing cats. They were more than just frowned upon; they were heresy. Glorioso himself, the town’s founding father, had harboured a mild disdain for anything non-cheesy, a disdain Euphemia had elevated to the status of religious dogma since becoming mayor. Anything that distracted the good mice of Villagloriosa from the noble pursuit of cheese was considered evil, and nothing was deemed more distracting and corrupting than sweets.
So, when this mysterious mouse dared to utter such profanities in the midst of the sacred Cheese Fair, Euphemia's fury, though masked by mayoral decorum, had been palpable. She’d immediately ordered her personal guards to arrest this ‘feral mouse’ and place him under strict house arrest for the day. She finished with a warning of harsher punishment if he continued spreading heresies.
This story alone was enough to make Randy desperately keen to meet the transgressor. He had to ask him about other foods, foods that weren’t cheese. But the final piece of gossip, the detail that made Randy’s heart do an excited flip-flop, was this: the mouse had just returned from The Wild, where he had spent moons adventuring.
The next morning, Randy woke earlier than usual, roused by the low murmur of conversation drifting from the kitchen. It was Rosaline, talking quietly with someone whose voice he didn’t recognise.
He crept out of bed and tip-toed towards the kitchen doorway. A stranger was chatting with her as if they were the oldest of friends.
He was an old mouse, thin and wiry, his fur the colour of dust. He leaned heavily on a gnarled wooden cane, one of his ears was noticeably smaller than the other, and his whiskers sprouted at odd angles, as if he’d recently had a rather vigorous tumble down a long flight of stairs.
But the strangest thing, the thing that made Randy stop dead in the doorway, was his face. It was almost too familiar. Unsettlingly so. It was like looking into a distorted mirror — a reflection of Randy himself, but aged, weathered, and slightly wonky.
The strange mouse wrung his paws as Randy timidly entered the kitchen, offering him a shaky nod.
"Hello, Randy," the old mouse said, shifting nervously. "A pleasure to meet you. How do you do?"
Randy stared at the stranger. Speechless.
"Randy," Rosaline said, her voice unnaturally bright, "this is my older brother Will — your uncle."
His mind raced, connecting the dots. The argument, the mouse from The Wild, the house arrest… "Are you the mouse from The Wild?" he blurted out.
"Randy!" Rosaline scolded sharply, her cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment. "Don't be so cheeky! Your Uncle Will was born and raised right here, just like you. He just… well, he got a bit lost out there for a while. But he’s perfectly fine now!" she added, perhaps a little too quickly.
"I've been so eager to meet you!" Randy exclaimed, his earlier shyness forgotten in a rush of excitement. He darted forward and threw his arms around the bewildered old mouse, hugging him tightly.
Will, taken aback by this sudden, enthusiastic embrace, hesitated for a moment before hugging him back, a look of genuine relief softening his wrinkled face. It was nice to be liked by someone in town other than Rosaline.
"I'm glad to finally meet you too, Randy," Will said, managing a wink. "I hear you're quite the troublemaker yourself."
Rosaline watched them with a conflicting mixture of fondness and apprehension.
"Mum, can we go for a walk?" Randy pleaded. "Please? I need to stretch my legs. And ask Uncle Will about a million questions."
"Don't be so hasty, Randy. Your uncle must be hungry. He hasn't had a bite of breakfast yet." Her tone brooked no argument as she moved towards the counter to cut some cheese.
"Indeed, dear sister, I must confess I have missed your cheese," Will said. "Shall we eat first, Randy?"
"Yes!" Randy agreed instantly. Anything to spend more time with Will, to hear about his adventures beyond the town walls.
Rosaline, pleasantly surprised by her son’s sudden, uncharacteristic enthusiasm for cheese, hurried to bring a platter to the table.
As they ate, Rosaline chattered nervously, filling the silence with town gossip and familiar complaints about Romero’s obsessive tunnel digging and how little she saw of him. Randy listened with half an ear, noticing how carefully she avoided asking Will anything about his life in The Wild. It was as if the topic itself were contagious and would make them go feral. Randy decided it was best to wait until he was alone with Will to ask his own questions.
After what felt like an eternity of polite nibbling (for Randy, at least), Will pushed his plate away with a sigh of contentment.
"Right then," he said, fixing his gaze on Randy. "Now I could definitely use that leg stretch you mentioned. How about it, nephew?"
"Not until Randy finishes his plate of cheese," Rosaline declared firmly, her eyes narrowing into familiar slits of maternal steel.
Randy attacked the remaining cheese on his plate with a speed and ferocity he’d never displayed before. He gobbled it down, swallowing chunks whole, until the plate was clean. He held it up, showing his empty mouth to his astonished mother. She stared, speechless, clearly wishing she knew the secret to replicating this performance every mealtime.
"Can we go now?" Randy urged, already halfway out of his chair.
"Alright, alright," Rosaline conceded. "Go on. But don't go too far, and don't get into any trouble."
As Will and Randy stepped out into the bustling town square, they were met with a rather awkward reception. Mice stopped mid-squeak and conversations died abruptly as tiny heads swivelled in their direction. A wave of silence spread outwards from them, followed by a ripple of hushed whispers. For once, Randy didn't mind the stares. Walking beside his notorious uncle felt like wearing an invisible shield against the usual criticism.
Will led Randy away from the square, heading west down the Promenade of Wisdom. Here, bookshelves lined both sides, filled with dusty, forgotten human books. Many had holes gnawed into their spines and covers, repurposed long ago as cramped but convenient mouse apartments.
"This was always my favourite promenade," Will declared, as he gestured towards the desecrated books with a sad wave. "Such a shame, though. All this knowledge, ruined, because no one here can read."
Randy looked up at the towering shelves, rows upon rows of colourful spines and mysterious symbols. "What are books?" he asked. "And what does 'read' mean?"
"Reading," Will explained patiently, "is understanding the squiggles humans write down on paper. It's how they talk to each other across great distances. They can even share their wisdom centuries after they're gone. Fascinating, isn't it?"
Randy stared at the books, his mind struggling to grasp the enormity of the concept.
“Randy,” Will said, changing the subject. “I presume you’ve visited the Agonising Gardens?”
Randy nodded.
“Did you ever get a chance to ride on one of the running wheels?”
Randy shook his head glumly. “The queues are always too long.”
“Ah,” Will replied, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Not today, Randy. Not today.”
They reached the Agonising Gardens. Will led Randy past the usual snaking queues towards a bench facing the largest, most prominent running wheel. Inside, a young mouse was running frantically while an endless line of other youngsters waited, fidgeting impatiently for their turn. The young mice in the queue eyed Will and Randy with open curiosity — some even looked positively intrigued. On the other hand, the mothers sitting on nearby benches glared at Will, as if his mere presence might contaminate the very air their children breathed.
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“Do you know why mice love running inside these wheels so much, Randy?” Will asked quietly, his gaze fixed on the spinning wheel.
The mice in the queue stopped fidgeting and turned to listen, their ears pricked, clearly waiting for Randy’s answer.
“Because… it’s fun?” Randy tentatively offered. The answer seemed to satisfy the listening mice; they nodded amongst themselves.
“But why is it so much fun?” Will pressed gently. “Why is that little fellow in there running as if his life depends on it? Look at him panting, possessed with enthusiasm.” He pointed towards the exhausted mouse still pounding away inside the wheel.
Randy thought hard for a few seconds, then shrugged helplessly. The other mice in the queue looked equally stumped.
“Perfection,” Will murmured, his eyes lost in a wistful reverie. “That’s why. A circle, you see, Randy… a circle is perfect. Always perfectly round. Today, tomorrow, forever — just perfect.” He sighed. “In a world like ours, a world full of flaws…” Randy glanced at Will’s uneven ears, his slightly askew face. “…these wheels offer us a taste of what it feels like to be truly perfect. Not Euphemia, not Glorioso, not even cheese itself… none of them are as perfect as these circles — these wheels.” Will stared on at the rotating wheel, lost in a trance, a profound, yearning sadness clouding his eyes.
Some of the older children in the queue gasped quietly. Had this strange old mouse just dared to suggest that cheese and Glorioso weren’t perfect? The mothers nearby bristled, their glares intensifying, muttering amongst themselves.
Just then, the children towards the front of the queue protested loudly that the mouse in the wheel had had more than his fair share of time. One of the irritated mothers marched over and gently but firmly pulled the reluctant runner out. As the next child in line eagerly stepped forward, Will snapped out of his trance, raising a paw to stop him.
“Excuse me, young mouse,” Will said politely. “Could you possibly wait just a few minutes longer? I would be most grateful if you would allow my nephew here a brief turn. You see, he’s never had the chance to ride one before.”
The young mouse glared at Will, his expression mirroring the outrage of someone whose favourite piece of cheese had just been snatched away. He stepped back grudgingly, folding his arms. But just as Will was ushering Randy towards the wheel, one of the mothers came stomping furiously towards them.
“Now, just wait one minute!” she declared loudly. “Who do you think you are, barging in like this?”
“My name is Will Crackers, madam,” Will replied calmly. “How do you do?”
“I don’t care who you are!” the mother shrieked, placing her paws on her hips and somehow feeling more outraged that he dared to answer her question. “These are all my children, and they have been waiting patiently in line for quite some time!” She gestured dramatically towards the queue, which was indeed composed primarily of dozens of near-identical offspring.
“Ah, yes,” Will nodded slowly. “You must be… Lavender Rockaflower?”
“Indeed I am!” she announced haughtily. “Mother to the most prolific family in all Villagloriosa.”
“Yes, I know,” Will said mildly. “I have heard great things about your contribution to the community.” He nodded towards the lengthy queue. “But you see, Mrs. Rockaflower, my nephew here has never been able to ride one of these wheels. And I fear, given the dynamics of the queue, that he may never get a chance, unless we make this one small exception today.”
“Well then he should get in line like everyone else,” she retorted smugly, thoroughly self-assured.
“And how, precisely, is he supposed to do that,” Will countered, his own temper beginning to fray slightly, “when your sons and daughters here persistently allow their friends and relatives to butt in line ahead of everyone else?”
Lavender Rockaflower drew herself up indignantly. “It is hardly my fault that this child’s mother wasn’t blessed with a more prolific outcome. There are other things to play with in these gardens,” the mother replied, pointing at the hanging gardens above, her temper rising higher.
At that moment, sensing the escalating tension, Oregano bustled over. “Now, now, what seems to be the trouble here?” he asked, trying to sound authoritative. He nodded respectfully to Mrs. Rockaflower, then glanced warily at Will, giving him a tinge of grudging respect. “Hello, Mr Will Crackers. Mrs Rockaflower, good morning.”
“This mouse right here,” Lavender declared, pointing accusingly at Will. “He’s clearly gone mad — feral! That’s what The Wild does to you, I’m telling you! And now he thinks he can just barge his nephew to the front of the queue — the audacity! Who does he think he is?”
Oregano looked distinctly uncomfortable, shuffling his feet and avoiding Will’s eye. Randy braced himself, fully expecting the guard to give Will a stern lecture and escort him firmly out of the gardens.
“That’s right, Mr Oregano,” said Will calmly, turning to the guard. “You know who I am. Perhaps you could enlighten the good lady?”
Oregano fidgeted, his eyes darting between the ground and Mrs. Rockaflower. “Ah… you see… Mrs Rockaflower…” he stammered. “Mr. Will Crackers here… he, ah… he invented these running wheels.”
Lavender Rockaflower’s mouth fell open. She tried to speak; no words came out. All the young mice in the queue stared at Will in astonishment. Randy’s jaw dropped too. His uncle? Invented the wheels? A surge of pride swelled in his chest. This was the proudest moment of his entire life.
“Furthermore, Mr. Oregano,” Will continued smoothly, pressing his advantage, “perhaps you could remind us all again why the gardens are called Agonising Gardens?”
Oregano cleared his throat. “Because they were taking generations to complete; it was difficult to move these big flower pots — almost impossible.”
“Indeed,” Will nodded. “And how long did they take to build after I invented these running wheels and showed everyone how to use them with pulleys?”
“Two moons, sir. The wheels were crucial for lifting the heavy pots.”
“So,” Will concluded reasonably, turning back to the stunned Mrs. Rockaflower, “would it be terribly unfair, do you think, for me to ask, just this once, the small privilege of allowing my nephew, who has never had a turn, to ride this wheel for just a few short minutes?”
Lavender sputtered, “I… I — this changes nothing!” But her protest lacked its earlier conviction. Even her own children in the queue were less inclined to take her side now.
“Oh, just let the kid go ahead, Mrs Rockaflower, please,” Oregano said, pointing at Randy. “It will only be a few minutes, yes?”
Will and Randy nodded sincerely.
“Euphemia will be hearing all about this from me, you can believe that! Let’s go, kids, we don’t need to be insulted in this way!” And off she stormed, taking all her offspring with her, who groaned at being pulled off the queue. The remaining non-Rockaflower children standing in line let out a small, relieved cheer.
Randy climbed eagerly into the wheel. His first time! He started walking, tentatively at first. What a strange, wonderful sensation! Then he ran, faster and faster. It was exhilarating! He felt utterly entranced, forgetting everything — the queue, the mothers, even his uncle waiting patiently outside. He was simply running, running, running, lost in the pure, perfect rhythm of the wheel. It was one of the best experiences of his life.
Then, after what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, Will gently pulled him out, just as he’d promised. Randy felt a pang of sadness at having to leave the wheel, but also a deep satisfaction at having finally experienced its magic.
Will led Randy back the way they came, towards the Promenade of Wisdom. Randy walked beside him in a happy daze, his mind still spinning slightly from the wheel, many questions bubbling up.
“How come almost no one knows you invented the wheels, Uncle Will?” he asked.
Will chuckled softly. “Because Euphemia gave all credit to cheese, as usual.”
“Doesn’t that make you mad?” Randy asked, rather annoyed.
“I must confess that at the time I found it rather irksome, but then again, if she hadn’t done that, maybe I would have never ventured into The Wild, so it all worked for the best.”
“Why did you go to The Wild?”
“That’s what I am going to show you now, Randy,” Will said as they walked down the promenade.
They reached the end of the Promenade of Wisdom, where a grand staircase, carved from what looked like a petrified tree trunk, led upwards. Two guards, even grumpier and more imposing than Mr. Oregano, stood watch at the bottom, their eyes narrowed and their paws resting on tiny truncheons.
Will was unfazed. He nodded to one of the guards with a confident air, as if he were an old acquaintance. The guard, after a moment of hesitation grudgingly nodded back and stepped aside to let them ascend. Randy became really excited because he knew that kids were not allowed upstairs unless they were led by an adult.
"Up you go," Will challenged Randy, as he gestured towards the first step.
As Randy climbed excitedly, the air grew noticeably lighter and fresher with each upward stride. He reached the top, his breath coming in short gasps, and then leaned down to help Will.
To his utter amazement, Will didn't need his help. He leapt up the stairs, his movements surprisingly agile for an old mouse.
"That was amazing! How did you learn to jump like that?" Randy exclaimed.
Will chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. "You need sharp wits and a nimble body to survive in The Wild."
The upstairs area was a revelation. It was so bright that it felt like being outside. The walls were lined with windows that had no translucent curtains, and the sunlight streamed in unfiltered, illuminating the vast space more brightly than Randy had ever experienced.
The area was a huge open space, a giant workshop where humans used to work. There were no dividing walls, just adult mice working in various areas, creating statues, tapestries, woodwork and other things.
"This is where crafters work," Will explained. "I used to spend a lot of time here before I left."
Randy was far too excited to listen. He scrambled towards the nearest window ledge as fast as he could. He had to see The Wild. He had to see the world beyond Villagloriosa.
It didn’t look like a place of endless danger and lurking beasts. It was beautiful.
Trees stretched as far as the eye could see, a vast, undulating ocean of green that faded into a hazy blue distance. The sky was a canvas of the purest azure, dotted with fluffy white clouds that drifted lazily across its expanse.
Randy felt a strange lightness, a sense of liberation he had never experienced before. It was as if a weight he hadn't even realised he was carrying had been lifted from his tiny shoulders.
He ran from window to window, his eyes roving the new and captivating landscape. After a long while, he returned to Will, who was sitting placidly by a window ledge that faced west.
"Why aren't children allowed up here without an adult?" he asked Will. "It's so beautiful here!"
“Euphemia doesn’t want anyone to dream about anything that isn’t cheese. Children are impressionable, so this may give them other ideas.”
“Is The Wild as dangerous as mice here say it is?”
“It can be. Life is certainly harder out there, but the rewards are worth it. I’ve never felt more alive than when I was travelling in The Wild, meeting other creatures and rodents and sharing experiences with them.”
“Weren’t you scared to go feral from eating Wild food?”
“Do I look crazy to you, Randy?”
“No, but you are unusual — kind of like me I suppose.”
Will chuckled, feeling deeper kinship with his nephew.
“Why did you leave, Uncle Will?”
“I went on a journey to find The Place Where The Sun Meets The Earth,” Will pointed at the sun behind the clouds, which was now on its way down towards the horizon.
“The sun is so bright,” Randy said as he tried to look at the bright object, which was partially hiding behind a cloud. “Why did you want to go there?”
“Shortly after the gardens were finished I had a vivid dream; I saw the sun descending upon a grand palace with a round base. I felt at peace, overwhelmed with joy. That palace was the Perfect Place. The Place Where The Sun Meets The Earth — I knew my life purpose was to go there.”
Randy looked at the horizon, The Place Where The Sun Meets The Earth looked too far indeed.
“Did you ever make it?”
“No,” Will said, his eyes distant and sad. “Otherwise I may not be here. I sadly got delayed by events I don’t want to go into now, and then I got too old. But I am glad I came back, otherwise we would have never met,” Will beamed, showing a set of very straight, uncanny white teeth which made Randy feel a little unsettled.
“So how do you know the Perfect Place is really there?” Randy asked sharply. “What if your dream was just a dream?”
“Look again at the horizon,” Will pointed at the sun about to set behind the clouds. “What shape is the sun?”
“Round!” Randy said as he made out the shape behind the clouds.
“Exactly, just like the running wheels. So it’s only logical that it travels where perfection resides.”
Randy looked at the sunset, the orange tinge in the horizon against the backdrop of the trees, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“Perhaps one day, Randy,” continued Will. “If you find yourself unhappy here, you can become an adventurer and go look for that place.”
“We can go together!” Randy smiled and hugged his uncle. But his uncle just smiled back, a sad smile that Randy couldn’t understand.
Randy gazed out at the beauty of The Wild. The idea of a life without cheese was wonderfully inviting.
"We should head back," Will said gently, breaking the silence. "Your mother will be worried, and if we upset her, she may not let us spend time together again."
Randy nodded, pulling his eyes away from the window with reluctance. Together, they climbed down, headed for the stairs, and made their way home, the breathtaking image of the world outside imprinted firmly on Randy's mind.