Deep in the Schwarzwald, where the forest thickened into near jungle and the canopy blotted out the sun, lived a figure few outsiders had ever seen. Her name was whispered by hunters and wanderers as Mausgrau—the Grey Mouse.
To the Black Serpents, she was nothing more than an obstacle. To her jungle home, she was guardian, scout, and shadow.
---
That morning, Mausgrau crouched on a high branch, her whiskers twitching at the scent of strangers. Boots—too many of them. Metal. Oil. The acrid bite of gunpowder. She closed her eyes and listened.
One…two… no, twelve of them. Heavily armed.
They moved in formation below, cutting paths through the undergrowth with machetes, leaving scars on trees older than kingdoms. At their head, a Serpent commander barked orders.
"Find the stone. It must be here. No mistakes."
Mausgrau's tail lashed. She had heard the rumors too—whispers of a crystal buried beneath her jungle that could grant impossible power. But she knew the truth: the so-called stone was nothing more than a relic from old stories, a fake spun to draw greed into the heart of the forest.
And greed had come.
---
She dropped from the branch without a sound, landing crouched in the ferns. Her cloak of green merged with the foliage, her ears swiveling at every step the Serpents took. She didn't rush them head-on—she was no fool. These were soldiers, trained, armed.
Instead, she played the forest like an instrument. A rustle here, a snapped twig there. The Serpents spun, firing at shadows.
"Something's out there!" one of them hissed.
By the time they realized the sound had been a distraction, two of their rifles lay broken, their straps gnawed through by unseen teeth.
---
The commander snarled. "Find her. Whatever it is, it's watching us."
Mausgrau's eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. You shouldn't have come here, she thought, slipping between roots as if the jungle itself moved with her.
When the first trap was sprung—ropes tightening around ankles, slamming two soldiers skyward—the Serpents began to understand this was not empty jungle.
When the second trap snapped, dropping a heavy net woven from vines, panic set in.
And then Mausgrau struck.
She darted from the underbrush, faster than the eye could track, striking with clawed gloves and whip-like tail. Guns went clattering into the mud. Helmets cracked against bark. Soldiers shouted in confusion, fighting shadows more than flesh.
"Show yourself!" the commander bellowed, spinning in circles.
For a heartbeat, Mausgrau stepped into view—eyes bright, mask reflecting moonlight even under the canopy. "You come for lies," she hissed in German, voice low and sharp. "There is no stone here. Only your grave."
Then the jungle swallowed her again.
---
By the time dawn filtered through the trees, only three Serpents stumbled back to the edge of the forest. The rest lay bound, unconscious, or lost deeper within, their weapons useless.
Mausgrau perched on a branch above, tail coiling around her like a question mark. She had defended her jungle—but the attack left her uneasy.
If the Black Serpents believed even false rumors of power stones, then their hunger was greater than she'd feared.
And sooner or later, their shadow would spread beyond the trees.