The old woman glanced out the window and scowled at what she saw. Her once beautiful garden glared back at her. White. All white.
Occasionally she would imagine a glimpse of yellow or a splash of pink among the blooms but the glorious cacophony of colour was now gone.
Faded and pale just like she was now faded, a shadow of her former self. And the white too was turning grey, but unlike her, it was getting darker.

Her back ached. Where was that wretched child? Her ungrateful offspring had all left for greener pastures and were too busy to care for the pains and aches of an old woman anymore. They had their fancy houses and careers and no time for even a visit. Her youngest hadn’t even had the good sense to stay alive and as if out of spite had left the orphaned urchin on her doorstep before leaving forever. What was keeping the girl?

She rang the little silver bell that she kept in her housecoat pocket and the child ran into the room, a jumble of dungarees and wild curly hair.

“Where have you been?” She demanded of the insufferably energetic little girl.

“Oh Grandma, aren’t they wonderful!?” Susan could hardly contain her excitement. She had found a pair of young hedgehogs at the bottom of the hedge and placed them in a box which she now offered to the crotchety old dame to look at. The little animals peered out at her with beady eyes.

“Take those filthy beasts out of the parlour this instant, young lady. How many times must I tell you not to bring in all the stray riff raff you seem so adept at finding.” Susan did seem to have a gift for finding animals in need of a little tenderness and care. “Now fetch me a pillow from the window seat for my back”

“Yes grandma” Susan replied, carefully setting down the box at her grandmother’s feet and skipping over to do her bidding. She placed the pillow behind the old woman’s back and eased her back into the rocking chair.

“You should come outside a bit, Grandma,” she ventured out of the blue, “the sun’s out and the whole garden is sparkling, Here look!”
She opened the drapes a little wider.

“Close that window, the draft makes my bones ache”

Susan did as she was told and then her face lit up. “Just wait five minutes, Grandma, I’ll be right back!” she ran out of the room and flew out the front door. The old woman could see motion in the garden but her poor eyesight coupled with her inability to see colours made it hard to discern exactly what the girl was doing there. Probably trampling the new shoots, she thought in disgust.

Susan was back before she had time to scold her and thrust a posy at her, “For you grandma,” she said, “hold onto them for a minute while I find something to put them in.” And she was off again, rummaging in the sideboard looking for a vase.
The old woman starred at the white bunch of blooms she held in her lap. The petals were white, the leaves where white, the pistils and stamens; all white. She lifted them to her face. She closed her eyes and smelled them, drinking in their lovely scent, allowing the exhilarating perfume to fill her nostrils. At least she hadn’t lost her sense of smell. She tried to imagine how they had once looked, the bold red roses, sunny yellow daffodils, delicate pink gladiolus and regal purple violets. She tried in vain to conjure up the many shades and hues of green that filled the background to the flowers but the memory was fading too. She sighed opened her eyes. Susan was standing in front of her with a Wedgwood vase. She had a quizzical look on her face, an expression of amusement mixed with a deep sympathy.

“Shall we arrange them together Grandma?” she ventured. The old lady was about to thrust the flowers back at the child when she startled, and dropped them on the floor. “Never mind, Grandma, I’ll get them,” Susan laughed and bent over to pick them up.

One by one she lifted them off the floor, checking to see that they weren’t bruised or bent. The old woman couldn’t believe what she saw: each bloom she placed carefully into the vase had regained its colour! There were deep crimson tulips and cinnamon carnations; mauve anemones and egg-yellow daisies. She looked at her grandchild and noticed that her eyes were the same cornflower blue of the Wedgwood vase!

“Oh grandma, you’re crying!” Susan exclaimed and she looked up from the arrangement and noticed the tears roll down the old lady’s wrinkled cheek. “I drop things all the time, it’s okay.” She pulled a tissue from the box on the side table and dabbed her grandmother’s tears.

“The…the…flowers, they were all white…, and they’re all colourful again! How did you do that?”

“Do what, Grandma?”

The old lady picked out two anemones from the bunch, “See, they were both white before, and now this one’s red, this one’s pink” she gestured, waving them at Susan who just looked puzzled.

“They look the same to me, Grandma,” she giggled, “maybe this one’s a bit bigger but other than that…”

“Do you mean to tell me that… you can’t tell the difference?”

“I’m hopeless at naming flowers, Grandma, I just like the way they smell. I’d better get the hedgehogs out of here now.”

The old woman leaned over the side of her chair to look in the box on the floor. The little creatures uncurled slightly and peered timidly out back at her.

“You know dear, I’ve changed my mind about them. You can keep them in the kitchen if you like”

He paused at the threshold, whiskers quivering and heart fluttering. The little albino hamster glanced back, uncertainty burning in his heart. The papery smell of litter, the warmth of a bed of tissues – he would miss his home, but with luck, he would make himself a better one.

Inside, he could hear the thumps of furniture being overturned punctuating the soft pleading of his human. Home. It was a good word. Other words floated out to him – a string of curses from the frustrated human searching for him.

A breeze brought the scents of earth and plants, and it was decided. He ran his paws through the snowy fur covering his overstuffed cheeks and took a deep breath. With a twitch of his ears, he was gone.

He ran across the porch and into the grass. Blades of grass whipped against his face. Ladybugs scurried out of his way. He did not know where he was going, and he did not care; he was free!

An old oak tree loomed before him. He picked his way over the spidery roots and found a small hollow where he could rest. Nearby was a leaf, its curled edges holding a puddle of dew. He lapped away, unaware that he was being watched.

"Hey! What are you doing, you moron?"

He sputtered, whipping around to find the source of the whisper. He heard a scrabbling noise from the tree towering over him. Out of nowhere, a milky-colored animal with a long cottony tail popped into view.

"You don't belong here! Who are you?" the pale creature demanded.

"Uh, I'm Nibbles. I live- I used to live in that house." He puffed himself up. "I just escaped a little while ago. I packed some food, slipped away from my human, and here I am!"

"Huh. Let me get this straight. You lived in a nice, warm house where the humans stuff you full of food and water and you don't have to hustle your tail off trying to keep yourself from being food, and you gave all that up?" Nibbles grinned and nodded. "That's great, kid. Real genius. Name's Hedge, by the way. I guess you can stick with me for now. Wouldn't want you to get nabbed on your first day out in the world, would we?"

"Thanks, Hedge. That's real good of you. Nabbed by what?"

Hedge closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, this is going to be fun. Come on; I'll show you." She shook her head and clambered up the tree.

Nibbles climbed after her as quickly as he could. By the time he reached the squirrel's nest he was out of breath, and his muscles were screaming for mercy. Hedge left him no time to rest, though, and nudged him out onto a narrow limb overhanging the yard. When they reached a fork in the branch, Hedge hopped over him and pointed to the vegetable garden. He could see little more than brown earth, mounds of creeping plants, and a hint of white.

"I don't know what-"

"You can't see him, can you? Use your nose then, genius."

Nibbles sniffed the air. Oh, the smells! The old and wizened smell of the oak tree, rich, delicious grass, earth – heavy and moist, yet feathery and smooth, the female rodent beside him, vivacious and tempting, and from the garden, tangy, juicy vegetables, and something unfamiliar, a mixture of musk and dead animals.

"That, little genius, is the Cat."

Nibbles gulped. "Oh."

"He's sleeping now. You can tell because he's a cat."

"Um-"

"When he's awake, he's the Cat."

"Ah."

"He's always in the garden. Oh, he prances about the yard from time to time, but he never leaves the garden for long. That means that the best time to get green beans is when he's sleeping. Let's go."

"Wait, what? But-"

"C'mon! No time to lose. And keep quiet." Hedge nudged him back up the branch and down the trunk of the tree.

"But-"

"If he's awake, he'll see us. Don't you get it? We're white – we can't hide! I'm alive because I'm faster than that fat Cat. You're alive because you've been coddled by the humans. Now move your butt and shut your mouth!"

The two albino rodents made their way to the garden. When they could, they traveled low in the grass; when they were clear of the lawn, they wove their way through an arrangement of large rocks and prickly, thick-stemmed plants.

They approached the garden slowly, coming around so that they entered near the tail-end of the cat. Hedge crept to a mass of vines in the corner. Nibbles followed, keeping one eye on the cat. Hedge reached up, pulled a bean off the vine, and tossed it to Nibbles. She was reaching for a second bean when two magpies started squawking overhead.

The cat stirred. The Cat woke up.

Grumbling at the magpies, he stretched and licked a paw. Hedge and Nibbles froze and prayed he would go back to sleep. The Cat kept on licking himself. He was mid-lick at the base of his tail when he saw the tiny thieves.

"You again!" yowled the Cat.

"Oh bugger."

The Cat pounced, knocking Hedge to the ground.

"Nibbles! Run!" Hedge yelled.

Nibbles turned to run, then stopped. No. She tried to help me; I have to save her. He scampered around the fighting pair, searching for a weakness. There! He grinned and lunged at the weakness hanging between the Cat's hind legs.

He closed his jaws.

The Cat screamed in pain and took off for the shelter of the porch.

Hedge lay bleeding on the ground. Nibbles ran to her side.

"Hedge! Oh no!" he cried.

"I'm fine, kiddo!" she laughed. "Now that was genius!"