Once there was a smallish child, and his name was Max.

His family had moved, far and far again, and come to the city in hopes of finding out who they were and what they were about. Max had wailed, and cried, and begged his parents not to go, for he knew who he was, he said, and he knew what he was about. He was Max, and he was about being a kid, and what made the city so great anyway? You couldn’t run or climb trees in a city, and you couldn’t make friends with the streams and the forest and the green, grassy hills.

But like most children who are young to the world find, crying had done not one thing at all to change anything, and so Max sat curled on the front stoop, shivering a little under his blanket, staring out into the night and wishing he was back in the woods and the hills. His parents were fast asleep in the tall, tall house behind him, but the shadows of the city rose up all around, and Max shivered again, for he was a little scared even if he didn’t want to admit it. But he squinted and squeezed his eyes, and focused just right, and the buildings were mountains, and he felt a little better. And he blinked three times, slowly, and when his eyes opened the third time the lamp posts had become tall trees, and the wires and ropes and pulleys were swinging vines, and the streets were full of underbrush, and he felt a little better, when things were a little more wild and untamed.

“Hey!” said a great and scratchy voice, and Max squeaked and hid under his blanket, peering out between the folds. What had been a pile of garbage and great, hulking mess was suddenly a rat, the biggest rat Max had ever seen, with great gnarled claws and a tail like old ropes and chipped, crooked teeth like paving stones. “Hey kid!” the rat said in a great and scratchy voice like wind whipping papers down the street. “Watch ya’self with that country-magic, you’s hear? My town, she ain’t much for it, ya get me?”

Max shivered once more, but was brave, and knew his manners. “W-who are you, uh, sir?”

“Ain’t no sir!” cackled the rat, and shuffled closer. It grew smaller as it came, until it was no larger than a largish cat. “I’m City Rat, and this here’s my town, and we’ve got plenty of magic of our own.” City Rat scurried up and grinned his crooked grin, holding out one paw. “Nice ta’ meetcha …?”

“I’m Max,” said Max, and blinked twice before shaking Rat’s paw. “The c-city has m-magic? B-but you don’t have hills, or t-trees, or…”

“Hah!” crowed the Rat, “oh, we’ve got trees and hills, and more besides! You’s just gotta knows where ta look! C’mon kid, I’ll give you tha tour, get you’s more familiar with things. Can’t be a tourist if ya gonna live in my town.” And with that, Rat scurried off down the stoop, throwing a look back over the hump of his shoulder.

Max picked himself up to follow, wrapping his blanket around his shoulders, then glanced once up at the tall, tall house behind him. “I’m not supposed to go out at night, though.”

“Pssh, night’s when the City’s alive,” admonished Rat, “And besides, you’s got a chaperoné. Ol’ Rattie will keep ya safe, kiddo.”

Max nodded at that, satisfied, and hopped down the steps two at a time to follow Rat off into the maze of streets. Mists were rising off the River, deepening shadows and throwing halos around streetlights that buzzed faintly in the night air. Carriages and cars rolled past, horns honking in the distance, and brick buildings mixed with the tall sweep of cement. Max goggled and gaped, feeling his fears slide away before the glimmer of light and the play of shadow. Rat cackled and slipped through ethereal passerby, the night seeming to shroud the two of them. “Thisaway, kid!”

They ducked into an alley, and Max’s nose wrinkled. “Ewww, it smells.”

“Breathe deep, kiddo! This here’s good city smell – ain’t no worse than yer forest muck, dig? Now hurry it up, we’s almost there!” Rat nudged Max forward, towards the far end of the alley. The mists had grown thicker, and swirled into the narrow space between buildings, glittering orange in the flicker of overhead lamps. Max grabbed Rat’s tail to keep close as they pushed forward, until the fog suddenly cleared in a dazzle of neon and scattered reflections on asphalt. Max gasped out loud.

Before them rose tier upon tier of steps and stone, buildings and byways, hard edged shadows and soft, multi-colored lights that flickered and buzzed. The air carried a million scents, from the savory smell of cooking meats to the shocking tang of spices, the stink of gasoline and the funk of underground tunnels. Max heard the distant tread of a million feet, the indignation of horns and growl of vehicles, and from below a deep rumble, like the growl of some great beast lost in slumber.

And everywhere there flew and crawled and cavorted figures of every shape and size, age and outward mein. Two elderly foxes cackled quietly to themselves, while a gang of squirrels raced by overhead, skittering along a cat’s cradle of wires as they engaged in some complicated game of tag. A group of crows were crowded around a patio three tiers away enjoying a meal, while a tortoise and a cat squared off across a stone chess table.

Max goggled as a flock of pigeons descended towards them, settling all about. “Whooo,” they cooed, “Whoooo is this, Rattie?”

Rat sketched a bow and grinned. “Max here is new in town, fellas!” He raised his voice a bit, letting it carry off the nearby buildings as heads started to turn in curiosity. “Let’s show ‘im what our town’s got ta offer, eh?”

At that, the creatures all crowded around and Max felt himself pulled into the throng, rushed here and there as each and every city-dweller made introductions. He played a round of cards with the crows, hopscotched with the squirrels, and danced with one of the foxes as the other pulled out a fiddle from seemingly nowhere. The notes glided through the air, mixing with the sighs of wind through the buildings, and then were joined by the mellow sound of a saxophone, the soft strum of a guitar, and more and more of the crowd began to dance with them. Max laughed, wild and free, and felt the city shifting under his feet, the stones and concrete seeming to dance with them, in time with the music.

All too soon the sky began to pale behind the rising skyline, and the animals started to offer their farewells. Max stood, blanket askew, leaning against City Rat and blowing gently on a steaming paper cup that had appeared in his hands. “It’s… wonderful,” he breathed quietly as the pigeons rose up into the sky, the wheeling flock catching the soft dawnlight. “I thought cities were all… scary, and… stuff.”

“Kid,” said the Rat, “fuggehdabout all a’ that, that’s just stories we tell the tourists. You ain’t a tourist, are yah?”

“No!” nodded Max, firmly. Sure, he still missed the trees and the fields and the hills, but the city was wild in its own way, through and through.

“Good,” cackled the City Rat, and his breath swirled and steamed as the shroud of night gave way to the hush before dawn. “Now c’mon, let’s getcha home.”

And this time Max led the way, feeling the city under his feet, dodging through the streets that no longer felt like a maze, but like a place where you could meet anyone, find anything, just around the next corner.