Fiction by Justin Day

The Brave Little Mouse of Lavender Cotton Grove
             By Justin Day


Grub stepped lightly, brave yet wary of every shadow. In her world, clawed beasts, cruel snares, and deadly poisons lay in wait on the path between her and sustenance, set there by the screaming towers of hands and teeth. She saw, firsthand, the way her kind were treated. She still heard the sickening crack of the snappers at night. They had claimed her neighbors, her friends, and, worst of all, her mother. A dark day, indeed. She promised herself she would never let her guard down. That was how a mouse survived. Keep low, move fast, trust no one, dont stop. And most importantly, watch out for triggers…

One day, propelled forward by the enticing scent of peanut butter, she forgot her own rules. There had been a soft click. A trigger! She closed her eyes and went rigid. Instead of the sharp snap of death, a clear, green door flipped up behind her. Grub found herself trapped inside a smooth, plastic tunnel, the scent of peanut butter still clinging to her whiskers. She cursed herself and panicked at first, scrambling against the walls, certain this would be the end. But the hands that lifted her were gentle, the voice warm. No jeering, no cruelty, no screaming—just kind words and a gentle touch. The human had taken her outside, far from the kitchen she had called home, and placed her in a field of soft grass. The door of the contraption opened, and instead of pain, there was freedom. The green tube tipped, and Grub felt herself propelled forward by gravity, hesitating for only a moment before scurrying out into the new world. The scent of earth and flowers wrapped around her, strange yet inviting. She heard the human call after her, her voice soft, friendly. “Goodbye, little bit. And be careful.”

Spring wrapped around Grub like a fresh blanket. It was morning. The air was alive with scents she had never known—earthy, floral, and rich. A gentle breeze brushed through the tall grasses, making them sway. She wondered what secrets the grass whispered to each other. Her stomach rumbled. It had been a long day of confusion and change. Then, out of the corner of her tiny black eye, she saw them across a clearing. Berries. Small, red, glistening under the morning light with freckles of dew. She scurried forward, excitement rising in her little chest. A meal. A chance to start fresh. She could build a nest nearby and—

Woosh! A shadow. The movement of air all around her. Grubs ears twitched. Something crossed above her. She felt it as well as saw it. Danger. She looked up just in time to see the broad wings of a hawk slicing through the air. Its sharp eyes locked onto her from afar, talons reaching, ready to strike. Grub froze. She was fast, but not faster than a hawk. She stopped and braced herself, her body curling inward on itself, waiting for the inevitable; she rolled into a ball and thought of her mother, who she dearly missed.


Then—a blur of brown and gray shot past her peripheral. “
HO-WAH!” The hawk shrieked, banking hard to avoid the new threat. A squirrel, fast and nimble, had leaped right into its path, sending the bird veering off course. On the squirrels back sat a gnome, gripping its fur. Grub had heard tales of these forest folks, but never met one. He wore a blue cotton shirt, black pants, and thick brown shoes, frayed at the soles. A pointed green hat, faded from years under the sun, rested atop his head. His hands were dirty, and a smudge of soil streaked his big, bulbous nose. When he turned and smiled at Grub, his face splintered into deep lines, cracked bark on an old tree.

When he spoke, Grub heard the sounds of gravel tumbling over stone. “Aye! That was close, little friend.” Grubs whiskers twitched. “You saved me?” The gnome chuckled. “
Aye. Name’s Gobby Hinderfoot. Been living in these woods for a hundred years, give or take.” He patted the squirrels side, who chattered smugly. “And this here’s my friend Twitch.” Grub sat back on her haunches, still catching her breath as Gobby jumped down from his friend. “Why? Why did you do that?” Gobby scratched at the smudge on his nose. “Because that hawk? He don’t belong in Lavender Cotton Grove. And it’s my job to make sure this forest stays safe.”

Grub’s ears perked. “Lavender Cotton Grove?” Gobby gestured past the trees. “Aye. There’s a clearing in the heart of this place where the lavender grows wild. Smell it?” Grub sniffed the air, and sure enough, a soft, soothing fragrance curled around her. It was the smell she had noticed when she first arrived. It made her suddenly aware of how tired she was. The journey, the capture, the release—it had been a long time since she had truly rested. The scent seemed to soak into her fur, whispering of comfort and warmth. Gobby grinned. “
Come on. Ill show ya.” Grub followed, scampering alongside Twitch as Gobby led the way. The three of them walked toward some unknown destination that Grub could only imagine. The deeper they went, the stronger the lavender scent became. Then, they stepped into the clearing. It was breathtaking.

The morning sun bathed the field in gold, but the lavender—endless rows of soft purple—glowed as if kissed by the dawn itself. A thin layer of mist hovered above the blossoms, catching the light in a way that made the whole place look like it had been spun from silk and dreams. It truly was lavender cotton. Grubs nose twitched. “It’s beautiful.” Gobby nodded. “Aye. This here’s my life’s work. I protect it, harvest it, and make soap for the rest of the gnome folk.” Grub tilted her head. “
Soap?” “Yep! And not just any soap,” Gobby said proudly. “I make Kind Soap. Most folks used to make soap from fat. I call that Mean Soap.” Grub nodded, not fully understanding the small man, but she liked the way his beard rustled when the wind blew, and watched that while he spoke to her. Gobby wrinkled his nose. “Nasty stuff, Mean Soap, who wants to get clean with fat? Not me. I dont eat animals. And I sure don’t use ‘em for soap. I found a way to make it from the lavender oils here, mixed with some herbs and a little forest magic.” Grub had never heard of such a thing. “What does it do? Soap. Can you eat it?” Gobby grinned, swinging his legs and mounting Twitch. “Nope. Not for eatin! It gets you clean. Helps you sleep. Gives you good dreams.”

Grub yawned, the exhaustion creeping up her tail all the way to her paw beans at the mention of sleep. Her tiny body ached for rest. Gobby must have noticed. “Come on, little friend. My house ain’t far.” They sprinted to the base of an old tree, where a hollowed-out stump served as Gobbys home. Inside, it was warm and cozy, filled with little wooden shelves stacked with soap wrapped in twine. The air was thick with lavender and herbs, which circled the stump-cottage in a halo of drying, dangling bundles.

“Here.Gobby handed Grub a tiny sliver of soap and a bowl of water. Dip this here, then rub it on your fur, then rinse it off. Its called a bath! After that youll want to rest. I guarantee ya! Grub dipped the sliver of purple soap in the small wooden bowl of water, rubbing it all over herself. A soft lather bubbled up, carrying the lavender scent with it. Her fur smelled clean, fresh, safe. She poured the rest of the water over her head to rinse out the soap, thinking, What a delightful thing a bath. Tomorrow, she would ask Gobby if she could help him make soap. She had her tired mind set on it. Surely she could aid the gnome in some way? Yes, for once, she had found a place where she truly belonged.

Her eyes closed. Her whiskers twitched in contentment. She felt a warm smile inch across her muzzle. She was the happiest she had ever been. And she dreamed of lavender cotton fields on the horizon.

- Justin Day is a writer and photographer who can often be found beneath the ancient trees of Kentuckys old-growth forests, lost in a good book. When hes not writing, hes enjoying the simple joys of life with his partner Amanda, their two beloved dogs, Leonard Pie and Annie, and their opinionated cat, Linkoften over a picnic in the park. If you enjoyed this story, Justin is expanding this world into a book, The Protectors of Lavender Cotton Grove, set to release in the next 4-6 months. Follow his journey here: https://bsky.app/profile/justindaze.bsky.social.

Copyright©2025 by Justin Day. All Rights Reserved.

Artwork Copyright©2025 by Karolina Jacks-Tague. All Rights Reserved.