“The best laid plans of mice and men, huh?”

…

“What?”

Fend looked at Johnson, not at all comprehending what on earth he’s talking about, so Fend just said “Uh, yeah, I suppose it is; I don’t think there are very many other mixes of our kind to… lay plans. I guess this is.”

Johnson laughed quietly and wiped a hand down his face, shaking his head “You never heard of Of Mice And Men? I mean not reading it makes sense, but you never even heard of it?”

Fend shook his small furry head “You know, we don’t really read much, not too many options for ‘education’ for us… what is it about?”

Johnson glanced down for a moment before saying, somewhat sheepishly, that Of Mice and Men’s title came from a quote from another old human book: the best laid plans of mice and men. Upon further interrogation, Johnson then had to admit that the “mouse” in this story was a retarded man. Fend wasn’t pleased.

[Hey there visually talented person, I can tell you have a good eye that you have read this far! I'm ACraZ and this is the first of my series of Dreams, unless you count the introduction as part of the series. If you have any comments feel free to share, critique included. Thanks! Part two here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/12000462/ ]

Fend and Johnson were an unlikely pair in an oppressive society. Fend was a mouse, and mice were oppressed before and after The Sentience, the event that began to give animals intelligence on a level of humans. Johnson was third generation human. The first generation was the one first born after The Sentience, many died. They were the ones who resisted. Second generation was the next to be born, many hid. They were the quiet rebels, hiding and maintaining small heavily fortified communities. The third generation were the latest, the ones defeated by the new solid animal governments.

Animal government… a misleading term. A canine government, more like. Most countries turned into these animal governments, about two thirds of which were canine, about two ninths of which were feline, and that last one ninth were the rare others: gorillas, lizards, others. The canine government, to which Fend and his partner belonged, tolerated humans but oppressed them in a way that the older humans murmured was like the holocaust that they once learned about. They were scared.

Mice were oppressed in a sub-slavery manner, in almost every country. They were treated as playthings. Some were bred for games of literal cat and mouse. Some were raised as sex slaves. All were considered sub-human, and human was a low term to begin with. They were defenseless.

Somewhere within this mix of desperation and fear the two came to know each other. Humans were very isolated from the other animals, many were raised to resent them, and mice were no exception, but Fend wasn’t an average mouse.
He had been sold shortly before he came of age, along with the rest of his brothers and sisters, to an influential fox with a cruel streak. The fox had them trapped in a room with no food and little water. For days.

The mice all agreed that it was to break them into obedience, and all had no problem with that, they just wished for food, but not the rebellious Fend. He did agree with them, but he said he would rather starve then be the fox’s slave. Lo and behold, one morning there was food when the night before there was not. One of Fend’s sisters gave him a semi-sympathetic look as if to say “Ok, we get it, you made your point, but come eat” and then shook her head a little and enjoyed a bit of old toast. Fend just sat against the wall, angry but determined to ignore his stomach and stubborn enough to do so.

In about an hour all of the mice but one were dead. Rat poison doesn’t kill quickly, and the fox had been watching with glee from behind a one way glass as the young mice consumed his cruel trickery. At this point Fend was forgotten and, when a servant came to collect the mess of vomit and bodies, he slipped away into the fox’s manor unknown.
He was blinded by grief and rage and clutched in his tiny fist was a piece of the same piece of toast his favorite sister had died of. He walked the manor, sniffing out where the rat poison was kept by its subtle scent on the toast.

He found the cupboard and, inside, the little bottles of rat poison. He dragged a small one behind him back through the manor, leaving a trace only in his minuscule tears. By scent he found the kitchen, and in that kitchen he found a boiling soup. He was lucky that the fox only had one servant, a badger, and that badger was out relieving himself when Fend arrived. He poured the entire bottle of rat poison in and left very quickly, eventually finding himself in the literal and non-literal underground of the sewers.

In that sewers he found Johnson, a skittish human who wanted to do something against the government but wasn’t really sure what. And so the two rebels began their plot, finding other likeminded individuals who would stand behind them, and laid their plans. Now, finally, they knew that the scheme might actually work, or at least send a message. That was all Fend needed to risk his life for.