The Knot in Grandpa's Tail
by Jonathan Olfert
Tibbly Ringer attempted, not for the first time, to wriggle free from the knot of half-asleep mouse-pups by Grandpa's side. "That's not a wind-thump, that's a shove-thump! Someone's outside, Grandpa!"
Grandpa shushed him fondly. "It's fine, Tibbly, don't wake your mama."
Mama was, in fairness, already snoring. So were half Tibbly's siblings, all flopped on Mama's bed or Grandpa's or blanket-nests by the fire. Tibbly restrained a yawn—he was not tired—and arched his back to dig his heels into the mattress. He popped free of Grandpa's arm like a cork from a bottle of dandelion wine.
The door thumped again. Grandpa flinched, swiped for Tibbly's nightshirt, and missed. Rather than exploit his new freedom, Tibbly curled up at the end of the bed.
"Keep telling the story. The Mouse Kings were fighting the dragon."
Grandpa eyed him but, apparently, decided the risk of waking various bundled mouse-pups wasn't worth corralling Tibbly. "Oh, and they fought bravely, didn't they."
"With their tails all tied together!"
"With their tails all tied together. So, every other brother had a shield, yes? Shield, sword, shield, spear, shield, sword, all the way around the circle. Just like how you and your sisters and brothers help each other."
Tibbly whined, as he did whenever a story veered toward a lesson. Grandpa's voice shifted when he was trying to teach a lesson, got all stilted and important, like he was someone other than Tibbly's grandfather. "And how did the dragon fight?"
"Ssh. Go to sleep, you'll wake your mother. Dragons..." Grandpa sighed. The door thumped again. "Dragons fight like...confound it all, we need more firewood."
"I'll get it!"
"You will not. It's the middle of the night and it's cold out. Stay away from that door, Tibbleton Ringer." Grandpa eased his way out of the pile of snoring mouse-pups. He limped over to grab his biggest walking-stick, the one with a long rusty cap like the socket of a broken shovel. His tail thumped and skittered on the floor, dragging along behind him. You weren't supposed to talk about Grandpa's tail. It sure looked uncomfortable, tied in a knot with bits of leather and bone, like a fat knot in a rope. When Grandpa walked, he draped it over his shoulder so it wouldn't drag.
This time, leaning on his walking-stick, Grandpa picked up his tail just short of the knot. Maybe it was sleep finally taking hold, but Tibbly could swear he saw other tails—thin as cobwebs—draped from that knot. Just like the story about the Mouse Kings, the brothers fighting a dragon with their tails all tied together.
"Damn that fox," Grandpa mumbled as the door thunked again, louder than ever. "Come on, brothers, let's..." He cut himself off, eyeing Tibbly, who curled up tighter on the bed and pretended to sleep. Grandpa snorted and limped for the door.
The other tails had more shape than cobwebs now. Eyes half-shut, Tibbly saw a circle of ghostly mice take form at the ends of those tails. They carried swords and shields, and one put a reassuring paw on Grandpa's shoulder as he unlatched the door.
Tibbly yawned hugely. When the yawn wound down, Grandpa and the ghostly Mouse Kings—they had to be dreams, didn't they?—had gone outside and closed the door. A cold breeze intruded, but got cut off as quick as it arrived. Snowflakes danced in the air, drifted, fell, melted on Tibbly's whiskers. He claimed a corner of Grandpa's blanket from Rufus and Dinny and snuggled into the pile.
The door was only doing wind-thumps now, not shove-thumps. He did hear some other thumps outside, like Grandpa was thwacking dust out of the rugs, but pretty soon Tibbly couldn't keep himself awake, not a bit.
About the Author
Jonathan Olfert (he/they) lives, works, and whittles near Halifax with his family. His work has featured in Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Dark Recesses, and Lightspeed.
© The Knot in Grandpa's Tail by Jonathan Olfert. 2022. All rights reserved.
