Randy was confused as his uncle struggled up the spiral tunnel leading towards his apartment. Will, who had been so nimble a few days ago, now moved with a laboured slowness, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Randy scurried ahead, offering a paw to help his uncle along. A question echoed in his mind: why was Will, who had nimbly leapt up the stairs earlier, suddenly so weak?
Those thoughts were momentarily forgotten as Randy entered Will’s apartment. It was the most fascinating home he'd ever seen. It had a kitchen, a bathroom, a living room, and two bedrooms — quite a luxury for a bachelor mouse. The living room was filled with peculiar objects: a cola bottle cap hanging on the wall, a bumper sticker stretched across the room, and padded paperclips formed into furniture. There were even drawings of Mickey Mouse, whom Randy thought was a cartoon of a human with big, round ears. The room also had a stunning view of the Agonising Gardens.
Will sank into his couch — made from a stuffed leather globe — and gazed outside at the gardens, a flicker of pride in his eyes. Randy sat on an earmuff and looked out as well.
“Sorry about that argument with your mum. Rosaline is the best mouse in town, maybe even the world. We just have a few differences of opinion,” Will said truthfully.
Randy nodded, unsure how to respond. He categorised mice into four groups: fun, mean, boring, and annoying, and often placed his mother in the last two, occasionally three.
As he pondered this, Randy noticed a polaroid photo on the wall. It showed two mice: Will, looking somber, and another smaller mouse, smirking smugly. Randy, who had never seen a photo before, was amazed.
"Wow! How did you paint such a realistic picture? It looks like you're inside it!"
Will chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's not a painting, Randy. That's a photo, a captured moment, of me and Tiny. I should've smiled — I still had real teeth then," Will said with a hint of melancholy, his gaze fixed on the photo.
"Tiny looks a bit intimidating, but also strangely charismatic," Randy said, studying Tiny with intent, even when he tried to look at the image of Will, his eyes kept travelling back to Tiny. He was the smallest one in the picture, but somehow his face dominated the photo.
"Does he? I guess so," Will said as he took a second look at it. “He used to say that trouble builds character; maybe his charisma comes from all the trouble he was always looking for.”
“Who is he?” Randy pressed.
“He was my travelling companion,” Will explained. “He hated cheese even more than you do, Randy. And he certainly didn’t see eye-to-eye with Euphemia on much.” He paused, a fond memory flickering in his eyes. “If it wasn’t for Tiny, I might never have ventured into The Wild. It was his courage, you see, his boundless, reckless courage and his sharp wit that made our journey possible. He showed me, time and time again, that with just those two qualities — courage and wit — an adventurer could face almost anything. I saw him surmount all kinds of obstacles and dangers… rats, cats, dogs, even snakes.” Will shook his head slightly, lost in nostalgia. “Nothing was too big, too strong, or too scary for Tiny. He was a bona fide adventurer.”
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“So what happened to him? Why didn’t he return with you?” Randy asked, his admiration for this mouse growing with every word.
“Let’s say we parted ways over a disagreement.” He sighed. “I was looking for the Perfect Place, the one from my dream; he wanted to make a place perfect.”
Randy’s ears perked up. “But… wouldn’t that achieve the same result in the end?”
Will gave a sad smile. “Not if your idea of perfection isn't the same as everyone else's.” He added softly, his gaze distant, “Tiny never learned that lesson from observing Euphemia.” Will’s voice was filled with sadness as he walked away from the photo and towards his bed. His movements had become slow and difficult, and he started to cough as he lay down. Randy followed after bringing him some water.
“Did Tiny ever make a place perfect as he wanted?”
“Yes, he succeeded all too well — so well, in fact, that he was lost in his own perfection,” Will said, then coughed some more. “Sorry, Randy, I am not feeling so well. Will you do me a favour? Bring me the box inside that drawer.”
Randy reached into a small drawer beside Will’s bed and pulled out a small, velvet-lined box, and handed it to Will.
“I want you to have this,” Will said as he opened the box. Inside, nestled on a bed of soft velvet, lay a pearl. He pulled it out and handed it to Randy.
“What is it, Uncle Will?” Randy asked as he accepted the pearl. It shimmered in the candlelight, its surface smooth and iridescent, reflecting his tiny eyes.
Randy held the pearl in his paws, turning it over and over, marvelling at its beauty. It looked solid and hard, yet when he held it, it felt soft and squishy.
“It’s a magic pearl,” Will said, as if that explained anything.
“What’s magic?” Randy asked, his gaze still fixed on the pearl.
“I am not sure. The wisest mouse I ever met gave it to me. He said that it would shine to inspire your path to wisdom. It never shone for me, so maybe that means I am already too wise.” He chuckled at his own joke, which led to another bout of coughing.
“So when I am confused I can ask a question and it will help me?” Randy asked as he gave his uncle some more water to alleviate his cough.
Will shook his head. “I don’t think so. He said the pearl will shine on its own when the time is right. I guess that’s the point of magic, it works in mysterious ways.”
Randy nodded slowly, absorbing this information. It was all a bit strange. But the pearl was undeniably beautiful, and the warmth it had given him when he touched it was unlike anything he had ever felt.
Inside the box, beneath the pearl, was a delicate ribbon. Randy carefully tied it to the pearl and placed it around his neck.
“I think it’s time for bed now,” Will said as he turned in bed and closed his eyes.
Randy shuffled over to the sofa in the living room. He lay down, curled around his magic pearl, his eyes fixed on the item as it rested comfortably in his palms. He thought about Tiny and his courage. Yes, courage — that’s what he would need if he was going to become an adventurer…