Brown skies overhead, and air that stung the throat.

The two mice made their way across the last black street between them and the blue house, wherein lay the book that would teach Mousey how to cure his sister.

They hopped through the gaps in the chain-link fence surrounding the front yard, and into the tall grass.

Overhead, they heard a hawk screech, and both mice laid low.

The bird circled high in the sky over the ruins. With all the brown smoke in the air, they could barely see the avian predator.

Mousey felt his heart stop when the bird dove, its talons outstretched.

Then, his heart started again when he saw the hawk snatch something off the ground far away from them.

His relief was short-lived, replaced by guilt that he’d been happy, even for a second, that some other poor beast had died in his place.

“Let’s get inside,” Nycht whispered.

Mousey nodded and followed him but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a whimper from nearby.

His ears perked up, and he stood tall to see if he could spot the source of the sound.

“What are you doing?” Nycht hissed. “Stay low!”

Mousey ignored him and continued to search for the source of the cry.

When he finally spotted her, he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed her before. In the grass, across a cement walkway in the same yard, lay a red vixen. She wore around her shoulders a tattered cape, which meant she was a scavenger, not a Pet. Her back, left paw lay in a pool of red.

Mousey glanced back and forth for any sign of other foxes nearby, someone else who could help her. Or, someone lying in wait to take advantage of kind strangers.

No, of course this isn’t a trap. Lying wounded like that is just likely to get you killed around here.

Mousey crept to the edge of the tall grass and stood beside the cement walkway.

“Don’t even think it!” Nycht hissed. “She’s a fox! You’ll be dead for sure!”

Again, Mousey ignored the lieutenant, and scurried across the concrete.

“Sopher,” he thought, “Can we heal her?”

“You can try,” Sopher responded. “Usually to use healing magic one needs to know more about biology… Just try to imagine her leg without the wound. Maybe that will be enough.”

Mousey approached the vixen and laid his paws on her leg.

“Please don’t hurt me!” the fox begged, with tears in her eyes. She trembled as he approached, and her face held the most pathetic expression Mousey had ever seen. “I promise I’ll never eat another mouse again as long as I live!”

“Shhh!” Mousey responded. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what her leg would have looked like before the wound. He recalled all he’d learned about biology from books he’d read back home. The subject had never been so interesting to him as stories, but he’d learned a little.

When he opened his eyes again, the wound had closed.

The vixen rose to her feet and shook herself off. “You healed me? You’re a wizard… and you actually used your magic to help?”

“Better hide,” Mousey said. “There’s a hawk nearby. He’ll snatch you up if you’re not careful!”

“Then we better get inside,” said the vixen. Before Mousey could say or do anything more, she picked him up off the ground in her mouth. Mousey shrieked and flailed, but soon realized that she was not closing her teeth, she merely meant to carry him.

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The vixen trotted to the house’s front door and waved her front paw at the knob, which was far from her reach. The knob turned, the door swung open, and she trotted inside with Mousey in her mouth.

Then, once she was inside, she spat Mousey out onto the cold, tile floor and the door shut behind her.

“You’re a wizard too?” Mousey asked, looking up at her.

“I prefer the term ‘trickster.’ Makes me feel beautiful and dangerous,” she said with a wink. Mousey felt his cheeks burn a little, and he looked down. “My name is Vulpa. Tell me your name, cutie.”

“I… er…” Mousey stammered for a moment. Normally, he’d been somewhat offended at being called cute, but for some reason he just felt flustered. “Well… I’m Mousefred Souris.”

“Oh, so formal!” Vulpa said with a giggle. “I like to think we’re friends now.” She patted him on the head with one paw. “What do your friends call you?”

“M-Mousey…”

“Mousey,” she repeated. Whenever she grinned, Mousey got a look at her sharp teeth. Yet, the sight didn’t fill him with dread, like it normally would. “I like it. It’s adorable. You’ve come from far away, it seems. You must know about the treasure in this place.”

“Is it real?” Mousey squeaked. “A book that can teach me how to reverse petrification?”

Vulpa nodded, a wide grin on her lips. “Oh, it is very real. Very real indeed, honey. And I have a feeling you’ll be the first beast in many years Dot lets anywhere near it.”

“Why me?” Mousey asked.

“You’re the first beast in a long time to pass the test,” said Vulpa. “Most creatures, upon seeing my little trick, either try to eat me or just walk on by. You thought I was hurt, knew I was a beast typically known to prey on your kind, and still tried to heal me.”

“You weren’t actually hurt?” Mousey said, tilting his head to one side.

“No.” Vulpa giggled. “It was just a trick. I am a trickster, after all.”

“Stop flirting and get to the book,” said Sopher.

“Right… Well, if you don’t mind…” Mousey said, wringing his paws together. “Please take me to the book. I’m in a bit of a hurry. My sister was turned to stone!”

“I can only take you to Dot,” said Vulpa. “She decides whether or not you get to read even a page of Zoi.”

“Zoi… is the book?”

Vulpa trotted off to a door further into the house. The knob turned, and the door swung open, revealing a dark hallway and a wooden staircase leading down. Mousey crept over and peered down into the darkness. Each step was split down the middle, and the gap from one to the next was three times Mousey’s height. The doorway itself had been broken long ago too, and the walls on either side of the staircase were pushed outward, as if something truly enormous, even compared to the house’s original owners, had moved through here.

Mousey took a deep breath and started down the long staircase. He strapped his stave to his back, and carefully hung down from the edge of the first step. His feet dangled high over the second. He had to simply let go and hope that he wouldn’t slide off because of the forward slope of the staircase.

Thump.

And down, down, down he climbed.

The room grew darker and darker as he descended. He held out his paw and imagined a candle flame. One appeared above his paw, but immediately faded again.

No light? I’m supposed to do this without light?

Mousey looked down at the staircase again. He could barely see the next step, but after it was pure blackness.

He slipped down onto the next step and glanced back at the light peeking under the doorway up above. It could be so easy to go back. After all, he had no way of knowing what was at the bottom. Maybe the fox really had tricked him.

Of course! She did call herself a “trickster!” he thought.

But this was definitely the right house, as Sopher had told him. His only hope to save Button was to descend into the uncertainty below.

Mousey swallowed hard, hung off the stair, and let go.

He fell.

Further than he was expecting.

The last step he’d seen was the bottom one, and now he fell into a black abyss. For just a moment, he was sure he would never stop falling.

But then he landed on something soft, warm, and covered in bristles.

A large broom?

A rug?

Mousey walked around on the surface of whatever it was, feeling its contours. Whatever he’d landed on, surely it was bigger than a mountain.

Then the furry mountain moved.

Mousey slid down the mountain’s side, and tumbled across the cold, stone floor below.

Mousey scrambled to stand.

A blue flame appeared on the ground in front of Mousey, and he saw that the floor all around him was littered with the bones of many different kinds of beasts. Mostly fish, but also many far larger creatures. Some Mousey guessed were cats, dogs, birds, and even a few mice.

But he didn’t have long to stare at the graveyard all around, as his eyes were drawn ever upwards to the furry mountain, which had now risen on all four legs.

Two eyes gleamed in the light of the fire. Shadows fell between the tufts of fur, illuminating that some of the hairs were golden, while others were bronze. Its ears were discs Mousey swore could dwarf the moon. The beast had a wet nose, but its nostrils were bigger than the front door of his house. In its mouth were teeth that looked to him as fence posts, and a tongue that looked like a long, wet highway. Its claws were great enough to tear the Nocturnal Patrol’s tower to oblivion.

The creature’s breath felt like a, strangely humid, blast from a furnace, and smelled of berries.

And then the beast spoke. Her voice was so deep, Mousey felt rattled to his bones, and his heart pulsed with every syllable. “Little one. Why have you come?”