A white horse fell in the mud


Whisker, the Chausie, was not your average housecat. He was a towering, muscular beast with a coat that shimmered like burnished gold in the sunlight. His eyes, a piercing green, held an intelligence that was almost unnerving. He was also, as it happened, the only thing standing between the magical creatures of the world and a war that would likely end them all.

The dispute, as these things often do, started over territory. The gnomes of the North Woods had been encroaching on the fairies’ meadow, and the fairies were none too pleased. The gnomes, for their part, claimed the fairies had been stealing their mushrooms. It was a mess, and it was about to get messier.

Whisker, being the social butterfly that he was, had friends on both sides. He’d spent many a lazy afternoon sunning himself in the fairy meadow, and many a cozy evening curled up by the gnome’s fire. He knew that neither side truly wanted war, but pride and stubbornness were powerful things.

So, Whisker did what any intelligent, affectionate, social Chausie would do. He decided to mediate. He called a meeting, right on the disputed border, and waited for the two sides to arrive.

The fairies arrived first, fluttering in on gossamer wings, their tiny faces set in grim determination. The gnomes trudged in a few minutes later, their beards bristling with indignation. Whisker sat between them, his tail twitching in anticipation.

“Alright,” he began, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the clearing. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve got a nap scheduled for later and I’d hate to miss it.”

The fairies and gnomes exchanged glances, but said nothing. Whisker sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought.

“Look,” he said, “I know you’re all upset. The gnomes think the fairies are stealing their mushrooms, and the fairies think the gnomes are taking over their meadow. But let’s be honest, none of you really want to go to war over this, do you?”

The magical creatures shifted uncomfortably, but no one spoke up. Whisker rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. You’re all acting like children. And not even the fun kind of children who play with string and laser pointers. The annoying kind who throw tantrums in the supermarket.”

A few of the fairies giggled, and even some of the gnomes cracked smiles. Whisker purred in satisfaction. Good, he had their attention.

“Now,” he continued, “I propose a compromise. The gnomes can have the north side of the meadow, and the fairies can have the south. And as for the mushrooms, well, I’m sure we can come up with a sharing system. Maybe the fairies can trade some of their honey for them?”

The magical creatures looked at each other, then back at Whisker. Slowly, they began to nod. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was better than war.

Whisker stretched, his mission accomplished. “Great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a nap to get to.”

And with that, Whisker the Chausie sauntered off, leaving the fairies and gnomes to work out the details. He may not have been your average housecat, but he was definitely the hero the magical creatures needed.


What happens next?

Mild to Wild

1 = Keep it simple10 = Let's get wild

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