Magnus the mastiff stood guard at Willowbrook Castle, his enormous paws planted wide on the cobblestones. The moonlight made his wrinkled face look serious as he patrolled the grounds. Sniff, sniff, sniff went his massive nose, checking every corner for trouble.
Something was wrong in the apple orchard. Tiny footprints dotted the soft earth between the trees, and several apples had vanished from the lowest branches. Magnus lowered his great head, his nose nearly touching the ground as he examined the mysterious tracks.
The scent trail led away from the orchard in zigzag patterns. Magnus followed carefully, but his huge paws knocked over a watering can with a loud CLANG. The trail wound past beds of lavender that tickled his sensitive nose. Magnus sneezed so hard his collar jingled, then shook his massive head and kept going.
The mysterious trail led down the hillside toward the village. Magnus tried to step quietly, but his paws seemed to find every twig and loose stone. Warm, yeasty smells drifted from the village bakery windows. Magnus pressed his enormous nose against the glass and peered inside.
There, on the flour-dusted counter, a family of field mice was busy at work, mixing apple pieces into tiny balls of dough. The smallest mouse stood on her hind legs, kneading dough with paws no bigger than dewdrops. Understanding dawned in Magnus's brown eyes.
As the first pink light touched the castle walls, Magnus settled into the gatehouse doorway. Magnus rested his great head on his front paws, watching the sunrise paint the castle walls golden. Sometimes the best way to guard something precious was to help the smallest neighbors feel welcome within its walls.
