Distant echoes in the darkness.

A voice down the hall. "Take this one!"

Was it day? Was it night? Was it sunny outside, or was it raining? Mousey felt as if he'd entered the realm of the dead as he sat in that clammy prison cell. How long had he been there? He couldn't know. Every so often, the guards would come by with a crust of bread so hard he feared he'd break his teeth on it. The pain of those rock-hard rations in his stomach was almost as bad as the hunger itself.

If he assumed that the guards dropped off his rations once a day, then it had been three days in that cell. But that was only a guess.

The sound of footsteps approaching.

There was a flickering light moving down the hall.

Were they coming for him?

He was determined not to go down without a fight.

Mousey bared his teeth and clenched his paws into fists. His ankle was still chained to the ground, but whoever had come to collect him for whatever fate they had in mind would not walk away unscathed.

The footsteps drew closer. The sound of steel boots on the brick floor.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

Lieutenant Nycht stepped in front of Mousey's cage, his body covered head to toe in black armor. He held up a lantern in his left claw. "Mousefred," he said, "If you do not resist me, I will not harm you."

Mousey sneered at him, his lips curling up over his teeth. He stood as tall as he could, trying to look as menacing as possible.

Nycht chuckled. "I'm serious. You are not to be executed, neither are you to be tortured. I simply wish to talk. I promise. Now, will you cooperate?"

Mousey thought about it for a moment. Truly, he had no reason to trust this bat; Nycht was a member of the Queen's Nocturnal Patrol. Many a mouse had disappeared when these beasts snatched them off the ground in the middle of the night simply for violating curfew. Then, there was the undeniable fact that Nycht himself had struck Mousey's mother in the face.

Now that he thought about it, though, Nycht could have simply slain her, were he truly as malicious as the others. Had he run her through with his blade he wouldn't have suffered any consequence, but he chose to strike her merely with his weapon's pommel.

Perhaps he's more merciful than the others?

Did Mousey dare to think it? Did he dare trust someone who was both a stranger and part of the Queen's army?

He unclenched his fists and closed his lips. Now that he thought about it, even if he did try to fight back he probably wouldn't even hurt Lieutenant Nycht. His teeth would never pierce his armor, and fighting an armed foe bare-handed was beyond foolish.

"Good boy," said Nycht as he unlocked Mousey's cell and opened the door. He stepped inside and unlocked the chain around Mousey's ankle as well. "You can carry the lantern," he said, holding it out to him.

Mousey reached out his paws to grasp the bottom.

"Not from the bottom!" Nycht shouted at him. "Think, pup! Grasp it from the ring at the top! Otherwise you'll burn your paws!" Mousey grasped the ring of the lantern in both paws as he was told. Nycht groaned and shook his head. "How have you survived this long without any sense?"

Mousey really didn't think this insult was at all fair. Since mice were forbidden to leave their homes after night fell, they had little need for lanterns. At most they used candles around the house when it got dark. Even so, he wasn't about to argue with one who could take his life so easily on a whim.

Mousey followed Nycht down the halls of the dungeons. His eyes occasionally wandered to the other prisoners in their cells. Sick and starving mice, squirrels, hedgehogs, shrews, and gophers sat in each. In one cell, Mousey spied a gray rabbit, curled up in a ball, muttering to himself and crying. In another he spotted a shrew scratching away at the back wall of his cell, but it was his claws that were wearing down, not the bricks.

Nycht opened a wooden door at the end of the hallway, one without a window. "Inside. Now."

Mousey obeyed, entering the room with his lantern still firmly in paw.

Nycht closed the door behind them and gestured to the table in the middle of the room. "Have a seat."

Again, Mousey did as he was told. He pulled up his tail, so as not to sit on it, and seated himself at the table.

Nycht latched the door shut, then reached up to remove his black helmet.

Mousey's mind was abuzz with questions when he saw Nycht's face for the first time. The Nocturnal Patrolbeast did not have the long, pointed ears that Mousey had expected of a vampire bat, but rather round ears, much like his own. His nose was not a short snout, but rather came down to a narrow point, with whiskers drooping downward. When he smiled it seemed that his lips had not concealed fangs, but rather four incisors.

Nycht then reached over to his left wing and unclasped something from his armor. The leathery wing fell away, revealing that it was fake. Nycht then did the same to the other side and held up his paws for Mousey to see.

"You're... not really a bat?" Mousey tilted his head to one side, thoroughly confused.

"No, I'm not," said Nycht. "Like you, I am a mouse." His eyes, so fierce and terrible before, now softened, and a friendly smile pulled on the corners of his lips. "We have met before. Do you recognize me?"

Mousey stared for a moment, trying to remember where he might have seen this mouse before. "I'm sorry... should I?"

Nycht grunted in disappointment. "Never mind. You'll figure it out in time." He began to pace the room, all the while resting one paw on the hilt of his sword. "Years ago, I was a scavenger. In the ruins I discovered an old, magical relic; something capable of allowing even a mouse to fly. I used it to make for myself artificial wings, and presented them to Queen Felicia, along with my request to join the Nocturnal Patrol. She accepted my gifts; both the relic and my own life. In this way, I became the first mouse to rise above his station and become truly valuable to her majesty."

Though he would not let his face betray his rage, Mousey felt a deeper anger burning inside of him once he learned the truth about Nycht. He'd betrayed his own kind, joining Queen Felicia's army. Here he was, someone who'd suffered under the cruel and oppressive rule of that sorcerous cat, and now he had become a part of it.

Nycht continued. "It took me years to rise up to the rank of lieutenant, but now that I'm here I have been granted a special authority; I can recruit others into the Nocturnal Patrol. Mousefred, I want you to be my first apprentice."

"Why me?" Mousey asked, wringing his paws together under the table. "What's so special about me?"

Nycht stared at Mousey for a moment, as if confused by the question. Had he not expected skepticism? Or anything other than total gratitude for such an offer? "Why you?" Nycht repeated, his brows furrowed. "Well... I have my reasons, but... consider this: you brought that frog knight back to your home completely on your own. You helped him walk from the creek all the way back to your mother's farmhouse."

"Isn't that why I got in trouble?" Mousey asked. "I helped a stranger."

"Yes, but what interests me is that you were able to do it," said Nycht, pointing a claw at Mousey. "Clearly, for one so small, you have strength beyond that of other mice. You and I have that in common. The Nocturnal Patrol could use a strong recruit like you. What do you say, Mousefred? Will you join us?"

"No!" said Mousey, shaking his head. "Snake's teeth, no!" His mother had warned him not to use such language, but under the circumstances it seemed appropriate enough. "I'm not going to join the same army that snatches wayward mice up in the middle of the night and throws them into dark dungeons!"

Nycht groaned and folded his arms in front of his chest. "I was worried you'd say that..." He tilted an ear towards the door, then leaned in closer to Mousey and whispered. "I want you to think a little more carefully about your situation. That frog was a foreign knight. By helping him you harbored an enemy of the crown. Do you realize what that means? Your actions were treason, and the usual punishment for treason is death by petrification."

"Petri... what?"

"They'll turn you to stone," Nycht hissed. "They'll force you to drink a poison that will turn your whole body to solid rock, then they'll post your statue... well, if they don't post it in the Gray Menagerie outside the Queen's castle, then in your hometown as a warning to anyone else who commits treason. Think of your mother! Think of your brothers and sisters! Do you really want them to see that?"

"I..."

Nycht grasped Mousey's shoulder. "Listen to me, pup. Join the Nocturnal Patrol. It's the only way they'll allow you to live. Petrification is a slow death. First your stomach turns to stone, then your guts, then the inside of your throat, and it just spreads from there. It takes hours before it's over... I told my commander that I was going to recruit you, and he agreed to tell the executioners to hold off for now. This is your only chance!"

Mousey hung his head in defeat. He knew that he was destined to suffer a terrible fate the instant Nycht had carried him away from his home. For a moment, he'd dared to hope that Nycht was merciful enough to let him go or release him after just a few lashes of a whip. Now he realized that his fate was crueler than he could have imagined: he had to choose to either join Queen Felicia's army or suffer a slow death.

Then again, when he thought about it, if he were to undergo some of Nycht's training there was bound to come an opportunity to escape sooner or later. Certainly, the first time he tried on those false wings he would be a free mouse.

"Fine," said Mousey. "I'll join the Nocturnal Patrol."

Nycht breathed a sigh of relief and nodded his head. "Good! Pup, we will start your training right away. As of this moment, you are my apprentice."

Mousey's guts turned at the words, but he buried his emotions deep. He had a feeling he'd have to stomach a lot of wrong before he got his chance to flee.