The Great Hunt

            The disease crippled their bodies beyond recognition, leaving their flesh to hang in rags by their sides and their blood to coat their once white fur. The bloodied, they were called. But it hadn’t always been so.

Once, they were a clan of mice living in the heart of the forest, but now, they had been forced to the very outskirts of the land they loved. The disease had ensured their fate as outcasts.

            But hope remained in their hearts, for a cure had been found. One of their members, a wizened mouse of advanced age, had stumbled upon a gold-skinned frog resting in a pool of water contained within a fallen leaf. The frog had been small, small enough for the mouse to quickly dominate in the fight that ensued.

            The mouse soaked his skin in the slain frog’s blood, cleansing the disease from his body. For the first time in years, the old mouse saw the white of his fur and the smooth skin underneath, no longer decaying.

            It was a miracle.

            The clan of mice seized sharp pebbles and set out to hunt the gold-skinned frogs. The cure in sight, they knew their chance for freedom from misery had arrived.

            Though nimble, the frogs could not out pace the mice. The mice cornered them against trees and buried the frogs beneath a rain of stones, or when desperate, even savaged the amphibians with their rotting teeth.

            The frogs begged for mercy once they realized the extent of the devastation being wrought on their kind. But their pleas fell on deaf ears. Too enraptured with the promise of a cure, the bloodied harvested the blood of the frogs, bathing in the crimson liquid.

            Then one day, when the mice went out to hunt, there were no gold-skinned frogs. Only skeletons remained of the rare species, pale tributes to an extinct race.

            The no-longer-bloodied gathered together, to strategize about the future of their clan. With the frogs extinct, there was no cure for their ailment, but it mattered not. The last of the mice had been cured. Or so it seemed.

            Time passed, and the familiar traits of their affliction gradually returned, until soon, the disease violently erupted amongst their ranks, this time claiming the lives of those it struck. Within days, the entire clan had succumbed, their bones mixing with those of the gold–skinned frogs.