Curiosity Killed the Cat

"Curio!" yelped Jay as he stumbled after his fast-footed friend.

The hoipe is a curiously spectacular species, one that appears to be the mixing of a mouse and a squirrel, yet totally white from its paws to its long tail that ends with a tuft of hair. These things are very small-too small to sight because we humans are just too distracted these days to notice.

"Curio, come on, man! Stop!" Mitch blurted in-between gulping breaths.

With big eyes and wonderfully nimble paws, a hoipe runs around the small spaces of time, of place, (right under your nose if you're not careful) and even steals your shoe strings, extra socks, or whatever else it may find. But, this story is not of the domestic hoipe (a sock stealer) . . . No, this is a story of a different kind of hoipe - a hoipe whose experience as a "normal" animal of its kind was too much of an ill fit for his curiosity-like the fit of a bulky glove that slides from your hand when cold comes.

Curio smiled. He peered over the edge of an ominous-looking hole . . . Now this hole was not much bigger than an average sized crack to your eyes, but nonetheless, it was a huge monster of an adventure to our little hoipe . . . After shivering for some time, for he had forgotten his hat and gloves, he shook his white ears backward and opened his eyes wide, trying to blink away the burning sight of cold. His nose stung as he sniffed, trying to steady himself without his comrades knowing that the run had been hard on him.

His two friends, Jay and Mitch, appeared a moment afterward, breathing stoutly as they stared at Curio, whose face had the look of ingenuity.

Curio looked back, but it was only a slight peek-so he didn't hold it against himself for being a slight bit apprehensive.

"Curio . . . no, man . . . don't do it," Mitch explained curtly, his brow furrowing as he read Curio's expression.

Being quite the adventurous little hoipe, Curio scurried forward and cupped his little paw around his ivory ear to hear the "mysterious growling" of a monster that the group had surmised existed.

But, alas! Nothing . . . Slightly disappointed, and rather discontent in the moment's expectations unmet, he slumped down upon the coarse ground. And, just when he had met the slick floor, he slipped!

Down he went, no traction to keep him from drowning down the drop. And, with sight wandering down the ominous crack before him, he tottered, not even paying attention to his friends' yelps.

Falling . . .

Drowning . . .

Plummeting . . .

As Curio tumbled farther into the dark abyss, all his thoughts sprinted wildly away from his mind. And so, he plunged, flipping in the drifts of gossamer wind, like silk cobwebs that break upon cradling a falling spider.

Then, Curio hit the bottom with a small thud (because he is a rather small being, you know), plopping into a puddle. After he lay on that dank ground for some time, he picked his paws up one by one from the wet pool, wrenching his head around, trying to regain a bit of consciousness.

Then, acquiring his sight, he scurried upright, glimpsing into the quiet dark before and after him. Walking slowly forward, he caught a sniff of an unseemly smell and sneezed it right out in a little "squeak!" This squeak sent its voice as an echoic pitter-patter-reminder that he was alone, far away from his friends.

A shiver of excitement bent through him-he thirsted for curiosity's footsteps to be his . . . and of course, he desired a little fun.

Plops of plump rain drizzled upon him.

A trickle of fear scurried up his spine as his nose flared as if yawning for the present discovery of sodden coolness. The little morsel of hoipe turned, backpedaling.

A fresh gust cleanly gushed past, knocking him slightly wobbly and onto the floor again.

Thus, he brushed himself upward, leaning upon a stony wall, which caught him by surprise at its abrasive greeting.

Upon his discovery, Curio pushed his padded paws along this barrier. His digits roughly wound around all of the knotty crevices until he met an aperture. He mostly fell upon it rather than found it-the dark, dusky silence of another passage. Looking backward, then forward again, as to not miss a thing, he scurried down it.

A noise rambled, diving into Curio's flickering ears. He had been sliding his paws along, trying to hold his breath as to not awaken any sense of acknowledgment of himself. But, his nails slipped across the dank ground. So, with ears partially folded backward in chagrin of not having the time to trim his black noisemakers, he proceeded with caution.

"AHHHH!" And, this sent Curio into a state of shock as a bit of cold metal landed on the back of his head.

Now, he laid perfectly still, hair spiked up and breath uncontrollably wavering back and forth.

Black.

Unconscious.

He groaned.

"Cheer, little fella," someone said.

Curio let out a slight sigh, reaching his free paw about the generous bump on his head.

"There you 'r," the creature said again.

The little hoipe peered upward, eyes flexing and wincing upon his "adversary" that had just about whacked him silly; this creature was quite a spectacle: black in every aspect, except the eyes, which were an intense shade of blue that shone alight.

"What 'r you starin' at?" It replied to Curio.

Curio's wide eyes jolted to an object that gleamed in the light of a lantern-the glow that had granted him the right to take in this creature's description. A sword, clothed in garments of ivory, strode from a resting hand.

"Wha-" Curio's little head tilted slightly as he coughed out a, "What are you?"

"Why . . . silly thing hoipes 'r . . ." And to this, the black friend turned his back and drowned his voice in the swift-beating silence of the caverns that now held the ringing echoes of his last sentence. " . . . I am un Elkthys . . . " His ears cut backward brusquely as to attend to any sign of astonishment or acknowledgment from Curio; upon finding no such inclinations, the Elkthys began with a slight, almost undetectable, sigh, "Yup, uh Thys Mouse I be." A smile broadened itself across the little animal's mug.

The lantern, held in betwixt the spotted digits of his right hand, hovered as it shed its light all over the area.

"The Thys 'ren't apparent creatures. We huv certain skills that keep us hidden." His intensely sapphire eyes flickered toward Curio as he extended his hand to help the hoipe upward.

"The name's Soren . . . You 'ren't much accustumbed ta uh place loike this . . . und in these times 'specially . . . so, if you will, keep uh sharp ear about, und we'll get un jus' fine." At this, Soren turned swiftly, waddling through the dripping tunnels.

Curio caught a drop of the ceiling on his whiskers, and with a swift flick of his instinctual tongue, the bitter drop plopped down his throat, leaving him quite desperate for water as they scurried spryly along.

A few seconds later, they went through a door. As Soren lithely dusted his paws, coming in contact with the glance of Curio, he smiled warmly, setting the lantern on a rusty hinge that cringed under the weight.

"Any gaffers you huv, my friend? I mean . . . ta be in uh place loike this, you would huv ta huv uh good reason be'ind the fall . . ."

"Um . . . sorry. I'm not sure what a gaffer is . . . and it's mostly a stupid reason how I came here . . . the way you bumped me doesn't much help the remembering part of my brain." Curio paused; he blinked, watching as Soren motioned toward a finely crafted chair that would creak as soon as one sat.

"Sorry, mate. You learn ta be careful down in these 'ere halls." Soren's black figure comfortably sat, evading the creaks in the chair as a concerned smile slid onto his face.

A timely hiatus plucked a harmonious chord in the air, when Curio took the pleasant moment to scale the little cove with his eyes; the room was a thicket-like place, quite warm. Small trinkets stopped up each niche-they were no doubt stowed away for something of purpose, each gleaming for readiness' sake.

Then, as his eyes wound back down to Soren, Curio jolted a little-Soren stared. At this, being somewhat a surprise to him, Curio recoiled backward, almost flipping right out of his chair. Regaining some of his good sense, he inquired as to the occasion on which Soren was cast in such a blank stare.

"What say me? Nothing ta speak uv . . ." Soren groaned.

As Soren leaned back in his chair, a little strand of tweed between his paw and mouth, Curio grew far too anxious not to ask about Soren's fussing.

Soren leaned forward, his accent thick like dollops of honey comb, "Somethin' hunts us in this dark world . . . somethin' that can't allow us ta live without wariness built in'o our swords . . ." Curio's ears were quite taken with the deep darkness that encased the background of this tale.

Just then, a rattling rumbled through like a thunderous boom, dust falling quickly. Soren, who seemed quite accustomed to this sort of thing, planted his eyes on Curio: "Hear that, friend?"

Curio's head convulsed up and down very quickly to a chuckle from Soren: "That's what made this 'ere land what it is . . ."


Curio slumped back in his rickety chair . . . nauseated.

Sending Curio recoiling again was that horrible roar that pinged off every hidden fault of darkness.

"Our cue," Soren blurted.

And to Curio's surprise, his statement brought action; Soren paced toward the hollow door, "You comin'?"

Saying nothing, Curio galloped upward.

"Quiet . . . he can hear your step."

Curio peered around; the "he" in that sentence didn't sound very kindly.

After what seemed like the dripping in the cave would drive one's nerves up the wall and into the light again, the two came to a halt.

Soren, never waking his thoughts to look backward, kept a narrow eye on the passage that cooled with every breath. He brushed his paws about the floor, knocking the ground with a sort of PinG! PaK! PinG! PaK!

Now, he rested each paw on the ground, no sound.

Curio, entranced by their change in routine, stared into the darkness, where back came a PinG . . . PinG! PaK! The clangor split through the atmosphere like a shadow through fog.

Curio's little ears perked quickly upward.

"Come, friend." Soren foraged for a sign of response in the little hoipe's features.

They pitter-pattered along, coming to a slight figure, which requested recognition: "Soren . . . the times are worse; glad to see you here."


Curio couldn't make out anymore about the creature before him except that it was very slim.

"And, who might this be?"

". . . left fur safer venues." The creature shook its head at Soren's words, turning toward their exit.

Sprightly, a match illuminated the scene.

"Hi creature," the voice pursued Curio, "I'm a Sylvy Mole. Riven's the name." He turned a corner.

Sylvy Moles were non-existent, well-non-existent to Curio; they only appeared in fables, but he noticed that the fable was true enough-their ears did look fox-like.

"You come from afar, young traveler . . ." Riven's voice was cloud-like as it passed.

Curio's eyes journeyed toward the floor. Noting something obscure, the lantern furnished light to more than just a solitary plot of earth for a split second as they moved through a humid room . . . He thought he saw a few faces.

"He doesn't know yet, Riven." Soren's eyes widened, reflecting the light.

At this, Riven drew backward, watching Curio's intense stare.

"Hush, Soren . . ." Riven set the rickety lantern down upon a table.

"You can't 'elp but tell him, Riv," Soren's voice hummed.

"Sure . . . sure . . . you think of everything before it's said. But, this sorry morsel-"

"Excuse me," Curio persisted, the company waiting on him to speak again.

"What, Sonny? Speak up, wot!" A voice, whistling its "s"es, alerted Curio of more onlookers.

"You'd think he'd' a known . . ."

"Shush now . . . Cheers, chaps. All's not lost," Riv started.

"Give him the sword." Another persisted.

Curio perked up, paws clutching the metal weapon thrust to him. It glowed.

"Take it and use it wisely . . . the prophecy will do you well yet."

"Prophecy?" Curio inquired.

"Why-Curio's hilt kills the cat . . . haven't you heard of it?" Riven replied.

Curio shook his head, forgetting that his actions were naught but silence to the group.

"Well, it's more of a hunch-"

"No! 'Tis truth, Ray . . . 'tis truth!" A tone cut in.

"You are not an ordinary hoipe, Curio," another animal, with mouse-like simplicity in its tone, voiced.

"Ay . . . the cat's in his lair. Do it sprightly-do it quickly," Soren injected.

In the pit of his stomach, a knot twisted harshly. Curio gulped.

"Be careful." The paw of Riven pushed him through a tiny tunnel just as quick as he could have counted his whiskers.

He was alone. (Oh, but only if this was so!)

A purring set his nerves stirring.

Curio swallowed the knot in his throat, clinging to the blade that he had forgotten till now.

Darkness reigned.

With a pitter and a patter, Curio stuck his furry head into the lair, sighting his foe underneath an austere light.

The cat breathed sleepily, fussing of a dream, a ball of string betwixt its paws. Curio scanned the floor-mousetraps lay securely round the dizzily textured floor, guarding the Calico kitten's ginormous feet.

Holding his shadow from running into the room, Curio swallowed; he thought . . .

. . . An idea struck through his furry little head . . .

And, about an hour and a half later, a grinning and rather coy hoipe pitter-pattered from the lair. With a string in his hand, sword absent, Curio advanced back to the safety of the tunnel.

"Good night, dear foe . . . looks like curiosity is the last thing you'll know." The mousetraps snapped, the string strung, purring no more, the cat was done.

And, that is how Curio killed the cat.