The mouse who spoke softly

Rose had a very small voice. At home that had never been a problem, because her mum always heard her. But on the first morning at the big meadow school, when Mrs Frog asked, "Who would like to tell us their name?", Rose opened her mouth and only a breath came out. "Sorry?" said Mrs Frog. "A little louder." Rose felt her cheeks go hot all the way to the tips of her ears. She went quiet.

At break time, everybody was shouting. The young rabbits played tag, yelling, and the crickets held a contest to see who could sing the loudest. Rose slipped behind a clover and watched. She wanted to play. She also wanted to vanish. Both at once, and it was very tiring.

A little shrew came and sat down next to her. "What's your name?" Rose murmured something. The shrew tilted her head and leaned her ear in close. "Rose," said Rose again. "Rose! I'm Hazel. I can hear you fine if I sit really close." She said nothing more. She took a sunflower seed out of her pocket, snapped it in two, and gave half to Rose.

That evening, when school ended, Hazel took Rose by the sleeve. "Come with me. It's a disaster at my house." Under the roots of the old willow, six little shrews, Hazel's cousins, were bouncing on the beds, rolling in the moss and squealing. Their aunt kept saying "Shh! Shh! Shh!", and the more she said shh, the louder they got. Night was falling, and nobody was sleepy.

Rose wanted to leave. But Hazel held on to her sleeve. "You can do it." Rose sat down on the mossy step at the edge of the burrow. Her heart was pounding. Then, very softly, she began the little song her mum sang to her at bedtime: "One petal, two petals, three petals falling down..."

At first, nobody heard her. Then the nearest one stopped squealing so she could listen. The next one leaned in. Another sat down. "Four petals, five petals..." Rose's voice grew quieter and quieter, and the quieter she got, the closer the little ones came, until they made a circle of six round heads, ears pointed towards her. "Eight petals, nine petals..."

By the tenth petal there wasn't a sound in the burrow. The six little ones lay asleep in a heap, noses in the moss. Their aunt squeezed Rose's paw without a word, so as not to wake anyone. Hazel walked Rose to the end of the path, under the moon. "Tomorrow at break, I'll save you a spot," she whispered. "Okay," said Rose, hardly louder than a breath, and Hazel heard her.

At home, Rose curled up in bed. Her mum asked how the day had gone. "I have a friend," said Rose, very softly, and her mum, who always heard her, smiled in the dark. Outside, the crickets had finally finished their contest. Rose fell asleep counting petals.