mouse was knocked out and severely concussed. Half of his tail had been severed by the sharp fangs of Grady’s teeth and now the cat was turning on someone else, punishing all those who dared to show their public support for Mr. Byrd.
“There is only one true Prime Minister of the Reservation and that is Whiska,” roared Grady. “You would all do well to remember that, come Polling Day.”
Cociel, Davetil, Tails and Mr. Byrd all helped to get the injured mouse onto Piggles’ back and the six of them hurried to the book shop in Section D, before they could incur the wrath of Grady any further.
Once in the relative safety of their HQ, Piggles and Mr. Byrd tended to the injured mouse until he came round from the shock of what had happened.
“I’ll be alright,” he croaked. “Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome,” said Mr. Byrd. “I’m so sorry that had to happen. I feel personally responsible. If I hadn’t have been standing, nobody would be getting this unfair treatment. Maybe it would be best if I backed out.” He had been nervous about running from the start, but now he was beginning to have second doubts about the whole thing.
“You can’t back out now!” the unknown mouse insisted. “You’ve come so far already. The mice in the Reservation believe in you. Some of them do, anyway. At least half, I’d say. I certainly believe in you, and a few injuries from Grady aren’t going to change that.” And with that, he rushed out of the headquarters and scampered off to rejoin his family, seemingly not bothered by his bleeding tail.
“See?” said Cociel proudly. “There are so many mice that believe in you. Even my father’s come around to the idea.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Byrd,” said Davetil. They hadn’t really had time for introductions earlier. “Cociel’s told me so much about you.”
“He’s told me about you, too,” said the parakeet. “It’s an honor to meet you, Davetil.”
“My son is right,” Davetil continued. “I was skeptical about the whole thing but… when I saw how the other mice were beginning to support you, and when I saw how passionate Cociel was about the campaign, how involved he was getting... And then, finally when I heard about the trial... We haven’t had a trial in the Reservation for years. It was a momentous occasion. I don’t know how you did it, but it gave me hope…. hope that things might not always have to be this way.”
“It was Piggles that did it,” said Tails. “She spoke to Whiska’s mother, Tilde, and asked when the trial would be.”
“That’s right,” nodded Piggles. “We don’t think Tilde knows how bad her son really is, and no doubt he doesn’t want her to find out, either. She must have asked him about the trial and then, put into an awkward position, he couldn’t really avoid having one.”
“You see, Mr. Byrd?” said Cociel. “You can’t back out now. You have to keep going. You saw what Grady was like today… you’ve really ruffled his fur. Same with Whiska, too. You’re shaking up the establishment and it’s working. We can’t give up.”
“You’re right,” sighed Mr. Byrd. “I know you’re right really. I just… had a moment of doubt.”
“Well, that’s what we’re all here for, Mr. Byrd,” said Piggles encouragingly. “To boost you back up again when you think you can’t do it. Because we know you can!”
“Yes,” he said, fluttering his wings and sticking out his chest, already filled with the new confidence that his supporters were flowing into him. “Yes, yes, I can. I can do this.”
“You can do this!” cried Cociel excitedly.
They all laughed, cheered up by each other’s enthusiasm, then they quietly got down to business and began to plan their next political move – a meeting with King Nine Lives himself.
Five
It was not entirely impossible to get an audience with the King; it was just something relatively unheard of within the Reservation or, indeed,
“There is only one true Prime Minister of the Reservation and that is Whiska,” roared Grady. “You would all do well to remember that, come Polling Day.”
Cociel, Davetil, Tails and Mr. Byrd all helped to get the injured mouse onto Piggles’ back and the six of them hurried to the book shop in Section D, before they could incur the wrath of Grady any further.
Once in the relative safety of their HQ, Piggles and Mr. Byrd tended to the injured mouse until he came round from the shock of what had happened.
“I’ll be alright,” he croaked. “Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome,” said Mr. Byrd. “I’m so sorry that had to happen. I feel personally responsible. If I hadn’t have been standing, nobody would be getting this unfair treatment. Maybe it would be best if I backed out.” He had been nervous about running from the start, but now he was beginning to have second doubts about the whole thing.
“You can’t back out now!” the unknown mouse insisted. “You’ve come so far already. The mice in the Reservation believe in you. Some of them do, anyway. At least half, I’d say. I certainly believe in you, and a few injuries from Grady aren’t going to change that.” And with that, he rushed out of the headquarters and scampered off to rejoin his family, seemingly not bothered by his bleeding tail.
“See?” said Cociel proudly. “There are so many mice that believe in you. Even my father’s come around to the idea.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Byrd,” said Davetil. They hadn’t really had time for introductions earlier. “Cociel’s told me so much about you.”
“He’s told me about you, too,” said the parakeet. “It’s an honor to meet you, Davetil.”
“My son is right,” Davetil continued. “I was skeptical about the whole thing but… when I saw how the other mice were beginning to support you, and when I saw how passionate Cociel was about the campaign, how involved he was getting... And then, finally when I heard about the trial... We haven’t had a trial in the Reservation for years. It was a momentous occasion. I don’t know how you did it, but it gave me hope…. hope that things might not always have to be this way.”
“It was Piggles that did it,” said Tails. “She spoke to Whiska’s mother, Tilde, and asked when the trial would be.”
“That’s right,” nodded Piggles. “We don’t think Tilde knows how bad her son really is, and no doubt he doesn’t want her to find out, either. She must have asked him about the trial and then, put into an awkward position, he couldn’t really avoid having one.”
“You see, Mr. Byrd?” said Cociel. “You can’t back out now. You have to keep going. You saw what Grady was like today… you’ve really ruffled his fur. Same with Whiska, too. You’re shaking up the establishment and it’s working. We can’t give up.”
“You’re right,” sighed Mr. Byrd. “I know you’re right really. I just… had a moment of doubt.”
“Well, that’s what we’re all here for, Mr. Byrd,” said Piggles encouragingly. “To boost you back up again when you think you can’t do it. Because we know you can!”
“Yes,” he said, fluttering his wings and sticking out his chest, already filled with the new confidence that his supporters were flowing into him. “Yes, yes, I can. I can do this.”
“You can do this!” cried Cociel excitedly.
They all laughed, cheered up by each other’s enthusiasm, then they quietly got down to business and began to plan their next political move – a meeting with King Nine Lives himself.
Five
It was not entirely impossible to get an audience with the King; it was just something relatively unheard of within the Reservation or, indeed,
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