The THIRD of a series of four updated character portraits I planned for December. I WILL be failing to get the last one done on time, but it is what it is. As Douglas Adams said: "I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by."

This is Nutmeg appearing in her new two-tone design scheme and wearing an outfit that almost completely hides it, haha. I just feel like it's a bit chilly out there. Compare the calves though, and you'll see what I mean. The darker grey also creeps up the neck a bit.

Nutmeg will soon be appearing as a primary character in my experimental webcomic Stuck in Dev(Hell)opment. Check that out in my Gallery or Webtoons. She will also be a major player in my ridiculously ambitious graphic novel project many, many moons from now.

The little story below isn't necessarily canon (although it kinda is, just don't hold me to it 100%, haha), it's just to help you get a feel for the character.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Nutmeg made the two-hour walk every week. Rain or shine, in the scorching heat, or cold deep enough that the little, grey mouse was afraid that her whiskers might freeze off. Even if someone asked her if she wanted a game of tennis, she would decline to hike out of the city to...just any old hill, really. She had a few favourites, of course, but which hill she hiked to didn't matter. Just as long as it was far enough outside the city.

She needed to think, and the city noise made that hard.

She needed to feel the grass between her toes, and the paved roads of the city made that even harder.

Most importantly, she needed to see the stars, and the lights of the city made that almost impossible.

There was also the benefit that way out here, she was alone. Not that she didn't like her fellow Earthfolk, of course! She liked them a lot! But she knew she talked to herself (or folks who weren't around) during these walks, and if folks heard her doing that, well...they already thought she was weird enough.

"Does anyone out there want to talk?" She said now, standing in the ghostly light of the full moon above. She was gazing upward, eyes scanning the twinkling expanse. "I'm here if you do. I'll listen."

Nothing happened, and Nutmeg's tail flicked slightly. A moment later she scooped it up in both her paws so she wouldn't sit on it and flopped backward on the ground.

"Okay, I'll go first, and if you decide you want to join in, just go right ahead, okay?" She told nobody. Nobody said nothing in reply, and Nutmeg began to describe her day.

She described how her landlord still hadn't replaced the step at the top of the flight of stairs leading down from her loft apartment to the ground, and that she had fallen down sixteen steps for the third time this morning. She talked about the nest of wasps she had disturbed while scavenging in the ruins of an ancient human community center West of the city and that she had had to jump into a stagnant and algae-covered lake to escape an untimely death. She chatted about the weasel who had tried to mug her on the way back into town, and how he had returned her things with an apology after a forty-five-minute conversation about the shared aspects of their childhoods.

"So, basically..." the mouse concluded, "...today was the best day I've had for a long time!"

She smiled up at the stars for a moment, as if waiting for a reply. Of course, nothing happened. At last, she sighed.

This part came every week. The self-doubt. The voice at the back of her head echoing what everyone else had always been telling her: You were just a gullible little girl, and what you saw was just a dream.

She began to wring her tail between her paws, as was her habit when fear, anxiety, sadness, or any of those not so nice emotions began to creep in.

She had been a little girl, no more than seven when she had been awakened by bright lights streaming through her window in the middle of the night. They had been bright enough to wash out their source completely, but Nutmeg was sure she had seen something, as the lights moved slowly in front of her window. A figure, no more than a dim outline, standing in the light, holding up a paw, or a claw, or whatever the creature owned, in greeting.

Then the lights were gone, leaving the darkness even blacker in their absence.

She had told her parents the very next morning, but they told her it had all been a dream. So did her teachers at school, and her classmates and everyone the mouse ever met that she dared share the story with.

It was a dream, Nutmeg.

It's all in your head, Nutmeg.

Time to grow up, Nutmeg.

But no. It wasn't just a dream, she was sure of it! And one day, she knew she'd see those lights again up there.

"Well, I should get going." Said the mouse, scrambling to her feet. "I've got another long day tomorrow, but I'll be back at the same time next week, okay?"

Just as she finished asking the question a streak of light flashed across the sky. Nutmeg's eyes widened for a moment before she calmed herself down. Just a shooting star, that's all. Nothing but a timely coincidence.

As Nutmeg made her way back into the city, though, she went with a spring in her step. That shooting star had seemed like a sign of some sort. A message meant for her. Was it a silly thought? Absolutely. But Nutmeg entertained it anyway, for no other reason than she liked it. It helped her to think, if only for one more day, that there was something out there. Something that was waiting for old planet Earth to notice it.

Between one step and the next, Nutmeg suddenly broke out into a joyous, happy, and...clumsy...waltz with a partner who wasn't there.

She stopped before she got made it back into the city, though. After all, everyone thought she was weird enough already...