Mousey followed the markings on his map Vulpa had given him and found a bustling city in the grasslands. After landing his airship behind a tall hill just outside the town’s outskirts, he hurried down the road and onto the busy streets.

At the edge of town, he saw a sign that said, “Welcome to Zucker.” Below it sat a pile of skulls from various rodents, and another sign that said, “Thieves, Ye Be Warned.”

He shivered and pulled his eyes away from the ghastly sight.

On either side of the entrance stood two rats in ill-fitting chain-mail armor. Both of them chewed on pieces of blood root and held

in their hands long spears. The rats eyed Mousey as he passed between them, and he gave them each a polite nod.

Dust fell upon Mousey’s head as one of the townsfolk shook out a blanket through an open window. At first, he was irritated at this rude act, but soon found himself thankful as it drew his attention to the chamber pot emptying out the next window over, giving him enough time to dodge out of the way.

Along the streets, rats, squirrels, hedgehogs, and porcupines stood, chattering away in their local gossip. In overshadowed alleyways nearby, Mousey spied rodents in black cloaks, exchanging goods wrapped in burlap.

“Fresh fish!” a merchant shouted.

“Herbs and spices!” shouted another.

Mousey had barely thought of food since setting out to find a cure for petrification. Now that the merchants’ cries reminded him that such a thing existed, his stomach rumbled.

A porcupine backed away from a merchant’s stall, and Mousey yelped as the quills touched his skin. The porcupine jumped away from him, then shouted, “Watch where you’re going, vermin!”

Mousey scurried away from the porcupine, muttering apologies as he went.

A lizard with a patch over his left eye and blue ink covering his chest spat at Mousey as he passed. “Vermin!” he growled.

“T-terribly s-sorry…” said Mousey, bowing his head to the reptile and scampering away.

“Pickpocket,” Sopher warned him.

Sure enough, as Mousey looked up, he saw a squirrel snatch a chipmunk’s grain-purse and slip it into his own coat pocket.

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Not a single grain lined Mousey’s pockets, but he still kept his distance from the thief, lest he steal Sopher and sell her in a back alley.

“Hey, mouse!” came a raspy voice from nearby. Mousey turned his head to see an old rabbit with a scarf wrapped around her head. She sat at a table, upon which rested a black ball with the symbol for infinity upon it. “Want your fortune told? For only 10 grains you can find the answers you’re looking for.”

“Umm… no thank you,” said Mousey with a shrug. “I don’t have any grains with me.”

The fortune-teller sneered and rolled her eyes. “Only thing more worthless than a mouse is a poor mouse!”

Mousey’s paw tightened around his stave and he ground his teeth.

“Don’t,” Sopher whispered in his thoughts.

“I wasn’t going to. But I’d sure like to…”

As Mousey reached the districts with the more beautiful homes, he finally beheld some of his own kind. Dozens of Mice sat beside the road, wearing tattered rags and holding out tin bowls for grains from any passerby generous enough to feed them.

One rat, upon bumping into a mouse beggar’s bowl, turned and knocked the bowl from his paw and hissed, “Vermin!”

Mousey reached the fountain in the town square and circled it a few times. The city just seemed so overwhelming. He wanted to ask someone, anyone if they knew where he could find Nakash, but everyone seemed to hate him on principle.

On his fourth time around the fountain, he spotted a building that looked different from all the others. It had a tall steeple stretching up into the sky, with a golden star sitting atop the highest point. The windows were round, with the patterns of stars and flowers upon them. The building’s walls were covered in horizontal, wooden slats, painted white, and the doorways were arched rather than square.

A church?

He’d never actually seen one before, but he’d read all about them. It was said that these buildings were places of peace and sanctuary. Anyone with any problem, no matter how great or small, could come here and find someone willing to help.

The bell in the tower rang, and Mousey hurried along the streets to the church, and up the steps to the front door.

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Once inside, Mousey was surprised at how well the church’s walls blocked out the noise of the outside world. The only sounds he heard inside were soft paw-steps, the whispers of those in the pews, and the voices of a distant choir, practicing their songs.

On the ends of the pews sat fish-scale-books with the word “Hymns” written across the front.

At the end of the aisle, below a stained-glass window depicting the night sky in splendorous colors, stood an altar. Behind the altar stood a pygmy owl wearing a robe the color of the sky at dusk. In front of the owl’s golden eyes sat a pair of tiny, round spectacles, and he tilted his head completely sideways as Mousey walked up the church’s aisle.

Everyone else had looked on Mousey with such disgust, but this bird had a kindness in those enormous eyes.

“You look lost and troubled, child,” said the owl in a soft, cooing voice.

“I am…” whispered Mousey, not wishing to disturb the peace in the sanctuary. “I just arrived in town, and no one has been very kind.”

The owl sighed and nodded his head. “Isn’t that just the way of things? Well, if help is what you seek you’ve come to the right place. My name is Glic.”

“Mousey.”

Glic chuckled. “Well, if you want to go by an obvious alias that’s fine. A lot of people come to Zucker seeking redemption and a new start. No matter, no matter. How may I help you?”

“Well… I don’t have any food or grains…” said Mousey, just as his stomach growled again.

“Oh, dear!” Glic hooted. “Come with me, then. Let’s get you fed right away!”