Paradise lost (short story)

The story of Noah and his daring exploits was still being taught in all the schools, although that had been so long ago and there were now many voices who cursed the name of the Founder. Young Mopsy was not one of those and, he loved Noah and lapped up every word of his teacher, who happened to be Grandma Bella.
'You have no idea, my darlings, the hardships our people had to endure before Noah delivered us from that cruel place. Food was becoming scarce and they employed all sorts of poisons to get rid of us. Gone were the good old days when the deadliest things were the silly traps most of our kind knew how to steal the cheese from without getting killed.
Nobody believed Noah when he started saying the Moon was made out of cheese and there in the sky was our salvation. You all are the descendants of those brave mice that looked to the sky and believed in Noah. The agonizing days they hid on the flying machine, the terrifying noises, the cold to which the weakest of them perished - it was all done so that our species can have a home of its own'.

No matter how inspiring Grandma Bells's speech was, the little ones were unconvinced and they dreamed of the far away place they had come for.
Noah had been right. The Moon had valleys of Swiss cheese, flanked by the majestic Cheddar Mountains and lakes of soft cream cheese you could dive into and eat your full. They all knew stories about the wonderful early days of the colony, when mice ran around bewildered of the sheer bounty of this magical place, nibbling a bit here and a bit there, until their tummies ached. The colony prospered beyond their wildest expectations and old Noah died happy knowing that the survival of mousekind was assured.
It was some 100 generations after Noah's death that the Cheddar war started. The mountain mice had grown bigger and stronger than their cousins in the valley, who soon started to demand their share of the better cheese. But there were so many of the valley mice and the mountain tribe decided they simply cannot share with the weaklings who would eat their beloved mountains away. After the war, the wise mice of the mountains came to the sobering conclusion that, as things stood, with the current population growth in a few years there won't be enough food to support all of them. Something had to be done. It was a hard decision, but ultimately they built dams to stop the flow of the milk rivers that fed the valley, leaving the valley mice to starve. 'Better them than us!'
Mopsy had been born a long time after the war and was used to meager rations. The valleys were starting to grow grey patches were there was no more cheese, the lakes were drying up while the mountains seemed to grow taller every year.
If only he could find his way to the king of the mountain mice, be brave like Noah and reach an understanding with their more fortunate brothers. He put together a small group of young fearless mice and headed for the mountains. When they reached the foot of the mountains, they decided to camp for the night and start the final leg of the journey in the morning. They awoke to horrible hissing sounds. It did not take long to realize they were under attack from a party of ferocious mountain mice. They had grown big as cats.

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