If evil made a sound, this was it. The hum grew steadily louder with each passing second, haunting the ears with its eerie tone then boring its way into Ziro’s skull and threatening to drive the mouse insane. At times he felt the ground itself tremble in anticipation of what was to come. Every instinct told him to run but he froze. Then darkness filled the air.

Ziro’s blood froze as he jolted awake in a hurry. His sleep had been light, plagued with nightmares of a one-footed owl and a red-eyed shadow chasing him through the woods. He shook his head and sat up, half expecting to come face to face with some kind of horrendous creature invading their camp. Instead, under morning’s first light, he saw Streak, running around the smouldering campfire being pestered by a furry white moth, with bright orange eyes. The fluttering creature kept following him around as he scurried about, colliding into his head.

Night swallowed the mice before they were ready. Ziro managed to kindle a fire before the coolness of the dark became too unbearable, but without shelter or his blaster to protect them they were easy prey in a wild world.

Magenta couldn’t scream to save her life. Snatched from above by the piercing talons embedded in her shoulder it was all she could do to breathe and even that wasn’t going so well.