Ino and the lizards

Ino saved a mouse from his mother’s mousetrap. He had to crouch all night in the shed where the trap had been set. His palms sweated against the surface of the jar. When the mouse appeared he darted after it. His fingers slipped and the jar landed over the mouse not exactly the way he had aimed. The rim pinched the mouse’s tail. It squeaked in a voice so desperate it sounded human.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Ino whispered as he chased downhill barefoot towards the river, pressing the jar to his chest. The mouse thrashed in the jar.

He let it out at the river bank.

“Don’t come back,” he said to the mouse that bolted out at the first chance. The grass rustled as it ran away. At one point, the mouse seemed to have stopped. Ino imagined that it was looking back at him. So he waved good-bye, just in case.

Near the house his mother waited cross-armed, lit like a candle by the terrace light.

“You can’t save them all,” she said, as Ino sneaked past her to his room.

“But I could save this one,” he muttered and closed his door.

His life had always been like that: his mum clearing their house from what she called “pests” and him being more interested in those “pests” than he was interested in people.

“You can’t care so much about things that mean so little,” his mum would say as he cupped another spider before her slipper could reach it.

“They mean a lot to me,” he said and went back to his book.

It was an old, weathered book with a collection of myths about his land. A bright purple illustration caught his attention. Ino’s eyes skipped fast along the lines. Apparently, the remains of an ancient town lay across the river, at the end of a forest trail. A unique species of lizards lived in its stones. The lizards shone bright purple when they were scared.

“Don’t you even think about this,” his mom said, stealing a glance at the page. “It’s too far away.”

So Ino told himself he would just go to the river and look toward the trail. But near the river, he noticed the rocks perfectly aligned between the banks. After he’d hopped to the other side, it seemed like such a waste of effort to simply go back home.

“I’d just peek at the beginning of the trail,” he whispered.

The forest smelled of humid soil and mushrooms, and every turn looked more inviting than the one before, and not that far away.

By the time the air turned golden from the setting sun, the trail had dissolved. Ino looked back and didn’t know where he had come from. So he just kept looking forward and marching through the clearings.

The yellow columns of the ruins rose upwards, like teeth of an old god. Ino’s legs burned from so much walking so he sat down to rest under a column, and saw the lizards. Brown and green they slipped between the crevices, but none of them glowed purple. They had to be scared to glow purple but they were curious instead. Some even rushed to Ino’s feet to inspect them.

Ino’s eyes grew heavy. He found the ruins, he found the lizards, he now was lost, tired and hungry but all of this was for nothing because the lizards didn’t glow. Tears, large and warm rolled down his face, and splashed against the rocks.

That’s when the dusk turned purple. Ino looked up. The world, still distorted through his tears, danced in tiny purple flames. The lizards glowed.

It wasn’t clear if they were scared of his tears, or for him, but they were scared now. One of them jumped down from the columns and disappeared. When it returned, it wasn’t alone. A mouse scurried alongside, carrying a branch of red currants in her mouth. It came close to Ino but when Ino bent down to pick up the berries, the mouse hopped a few steps away. Its tail was crooked.

Ino stood up and took a few steps too. The mouse hopped aside again. That’s how they continued for a while: a mouse with a crooked tail and purple lizards lighting the way through the night forest.

Ino heard the river before he could see it. The mouse dropped the berries and disappeared. The lizards stopped glowing and became invisible at night.

Ino picked up the berries and smiled at the river.

“I know you,” he said to it.

He followed the current along the bank. The stars reflected in the water. It felt like walking between two skies. Soon, the forest was left behind, and the plain opened out before him. In the distance, the orange light of his terrace flickered like a candle.