Mrs. Frisby had made this journey before. It was a harrowing venture for any creature, but she ha much on her mind and so was surprised when she realized that she was almost there. Her son had been a good deal of trouble these past few days, behaving just like a little Toad. But then the strangeness had started and she felt there was nothing to be done but what she was doing. She would deal with her naughty son on her return.
Mrs. Frisby had arrived. "Hello!" she yelled. In the hollow of the great tree it seemed her call could be barely be heard. She was as well acquainted with the Great Owl as anyone in these parts, and knew him to be the sage he was, so she was taken aback when she heard, "Who are you?" and saw two very large eyes open very near by where she stood.
"Why, its Mrs. Frisby!" she piped, "You must remember me" the latter bit sounding more a question than the reminder it was intended.
"Yes", The Great Owl seemed to boom, "But you are not yourself today."
"I am having the strangest dreams" she offered, "Filled with all manner of creatures. Rabbit holes and dragons, toads and caterpillars. I know somehow that there are things that need to be done, but haven't a clue what."
"Ah, yes", the Owl sighed. There is a storm raging far, far away", the Owl began, "and its winds bring news to us just as ripples on the lake tell us that an apple fell to the water on the distant shore."
"Sometimes, through the eye of such storms, we get a glimpse of a grander picture, and it appears that we are more than we think we are, and that we play other roles in other places."
"Dear me!" Mrs. Frisby was no stranger to adversity, but this was something entirely new to her. "You mean that I might actually be this Alice person? That I might actually know this Toad?"
"Exactly!" Mrs. Frisby felt battered by his exclamation. "Well done, Mrs. Frisby." The Great Owl leaned closer to Mrs. Frisby (an act not lost upon Mrs. Frisby in he least, which led to not a little trembling on her part.) "And there is something else" the Owl whispered, though it felt like a gale to Mrs. Frisby. "Such storms have a peculiar effect on time. I remember young Jeremy, and you would do well to look to your son, Mrs. Frisby. Keep a weather eye on your son." With that the Great Owl stretched its wings, beat them twice and exploed into the night, leaving Mrs. Frisby, in a whirlwind of debris.
"Jeremy!" she gasped, and she was off like a shot. Storm or no storm, there would be no meddling with her boy.
