"Two field mice scrambled to the middle of the floor and stopped to look at me..."
"Well, hullo," I said in the "voice" of the mouse on the left. I used a high-pitched, nasally sound. Let's call him Sparky because he looks like the type to be too talkative.
"You cannot talk to the humans," I said in a huskier voice, pretending to be the mouse on the right. It was a bit tubbier. "You know it's forbidden." His name shall be George. He comes across as the responsible type.
Sparky raised a paw and pointed it in my direction. "Well, why can't we talk to this human? She looks rather kind to me. Like she couldn't hurt a fly."
"How rude!" I said aloud and huffed indignantly. "Talking about me as if I'm not here." I huffed again.
At that, George shuffled backwards a bit. "See," he said. "It could be dangerous."
"It could," said Sparky. "But I'm tired of not having any friends. I'm going to say hello to her." Putting his paw back down, he, rather quickly, ran up to me.
George lifted his snout and seemed to yell, "Sparky! Come back. And what do you mean you don't have any friends?"
Ignoring George, Sparky stopped directly in front of me. His whiskers twitched as he tried to gather my scent.
Intrigued by his boldness, I bent down to look at him more closely. In that crouched position, we stared at each other for a moment. He is rather cute. Look at his tawny coloring. His fur must be exquisitely soft.
I wanted to touch him, stroke my fingers along his back, but before I could act on that impulse, Sparky dashed the remaining inches towards me and jumped.
