Winter in Myshkino is the quietest time of the year. Not at all like autumn. In autumn, the mice have not a minute's rest: stock up on grain - one time, insulate minks - two, mask the entrances to minks - three. Without good camouflage, what is wintering? Sheer anxiety from every rustle. Predators then prowl in the winter. As hungry and angry as ever! And even meaner. Because it is cold.
But when the minks are warm and satisfying and the entrances to them are so littered with snow that even the sharp-eyed hawk cannot even see them, all the inhabitants of Myshkino fall into hibernation.
- Fyu-fyuit, the little brothers of the mouse sleep in a dream.
- Hrrrr ... Hrrrrr ... - snaps mouse dad.
- Squeak! Creak! - a little mouse tossing and turning in the crib.
Everyone is sleeping, but he cannot sleep at all. Mice - people are not particularly brave, but this one is generally Trus Trusovich Trusokhvostikov. So his brothers nicknamed. And his darkness frightens, and snoring, and sniffling. All the fox’s steps seem to him and the owl’s hoot. Three times my mother woke up. She already gave him a warm seed with honey, and told a sleepy fairy tale, and poked him on the pens. She fell asleep, but the mouse in no way! Trembling and trembling.
He got down from his mother’s arms, walked along the mink, pulled his dad by the mustache so that he would not snore so badly, nibbled his brothers on thick barrels, and then what should I do? Is it really like this and wander until spring?
- We need to find a place more secluded! - the mouse decided.
He sat, thought and remembered about a small pantry in the farthest mink. This is where you can safely hide!
- Pee-pee! - joyfully jumped up the mouse.
“Crunch, crunch,” came the answer from somewhere from the ceiling.
But the mouse did not hear a suspicious crunch. He stomped so loudly, puffed quite enough, and in general became so bold that he completely forgot about caution. He even slammed the door when he reached his hideout.
- Clap clap! - said the door.
- Peep — peep! - mimicked her little mouse.
- Crunch-crunch - was heard from him right above his head.
- Ouch! - the mouse trembled,
Late to catch up! Someone's red paws tore the ground, someone's evil eyes sparkled, someone's sharp teeth snapped with impatience. Do you know whose? Of course, foxes. Now the black nose appeared in the hole.
- Mother! Dad! - swept through the pantry of the mouse.
But who will hear him from so far away? Frightened, the mouse got tangled up in its own tail, slammed a mop onto the floor, and knocked the iron bucket from the shelf directly onto its head!
- Oh ... - the mouse squeaked thinly.
- Oh! The bass echoed in the bucket.
The fox nose flinched and froze.
- Oh-oh ... repeated the mouse.
- Oh-oh !!! The thunder echoed.
"Is the fox really scared of me?" - the mouse was surprised and squeaked more terribly.
- Rrr! echoed menacingly.
The fox nose leaned back.
- Pr-r-roch! - growled the bold mouse, grabbed a mop and poked the fox in the nose with stiff bristles. - This is not a mouse of Norrrka! This is the house of the r-r-rd Mouse-saur!
A couple more roars and sweeps of a mop, and the foxes and the trace caught a cold. An amazing thing - our little mouse himself drove a big fox. And then he himself repaired the ceiling, he returned to his room and went to bed himself. And he will sleep until spring. Why? Because he is now the Brave Brave Tail.
Well, also because the bucket and mop has always been with him since then.
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