Darkness settled over the Trembling Bog.

Did Mousey dare light a campfire, and risk giving away his position?

Did he dare not?

Sir Ranae had been gone all day.

What of his mother? Would it put her in more danger to leave her wet and cold, or to risk being caught by the toads?

Or worse?

“She needs warmth,” Sopher said, clearly having heard his thoughts.

“Are you sure?” Mousey asked, looking down at his mother.

“Yes, without it she won’t be able to hold off the disease,” said Sopher with a nod. “You need to give Sir Ranae as much time as possible.”

Mousey nodded, then gathered together a few twigs and sticks for the campfire. The problem, as he immediately found, was that all of them were wet and muddy.

Even so, he got the “lumber” set up and ready, then aimed his stave and focused on his memory of that first campfire he’d built with Sir Ranae. A few flames rose, then died again, and finally there rose one that stayed.

Mousey stripped of his wet coat and hung it from a nearby vine, then removed his mother’s and did the same.

“Sopher, do you have a blanket?” Mousey asked. “Or dry clothes?”

“No, but you can surely make one,” said Sopher with a chuckle.

“Can you truly think of no comforting memories with a blanket?”

Mousey laughed a little at Sopher’s comment. “Good point.” Mousey held his stave over his mother and thought about all the times when he was still a fur-less babe and she wrapped him in blankets. He even remembered the pattern on those blankets, little blue stars woven into the fabric. Back then, the world seemed so much colder, but every night was so much warmer, no matter how dark.

Before his eyes, a blanket covered in blue stars appeared and wrapped itself around his mother.

Mousey gasped and looked up at Sopher.

The creases under her blue, ink-spot eyes curved up, which made it look like she was smiling.

“Thank you,” Mousey said.

“Any time,” Sopher replied.

Mousey took a seat on a root protruding from the ground, and Sopher sat next to him. The two of them were silent for a long while, before finally Mousey broke that silence with a question.

“Why did you choose me?” he asked.

Sopher looked at him with her head tilted to one side. “Why not you?”

Mousey chuckled. “Well… I can’t have been the only one in that tower who needed help. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing special about me that I should have received help when they did not.”

“Nothing special about you?” Sopher giggled, raising her paw to where her mouth should have been. “Oh, dear one, you saved a stranger when he needed your help, knowing that you’d likely be punished for it. Then, in that tower you proved that you had a unique mind and sought out older histories. Then there is the simple fact that you saved me, so I returned the favor.”

“I helped because you asked for help.” Mousey shrugged. “You could have asked anyone, other than the archivists.”

“That’s not true,” said Sopher, her tone turning sad. “Not true at all. Think about this; I was not always the only magic book in that library.”

“Really?”

Sopher nodded. “Years ago, that tower belonged to a wizard named Erinac. In those days, the library was full of old books, and

at ten of them were magical. My sisters…” Sopher’s voice trailed off, but when she spoke again there was great joy in her voice. “We were happy in those days. Erinac created us, just as you created Worthy. He was certain that one day he would marry and have kits. He intended that each of us would be companions for his kits, to teach them magic.”

Mousey nodded to her. “But… things didn’t turn out as planned?”

Sopher sighed and shook her head. “Erinac stood up to Queen Felicia. I’m sure you can guess what happened to him. When she took the tower, she ordered all of his magic books burned. Her minions snatched us off the shelves, but one dropped me, and someone else kicked me under a bookshelf.” Sopher’s voice wavered again. “I… I can guess what happened to my sisters…”

“Oh, Sopher!” Mousey said as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I’m so sorry!”

Sopher leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m just so glad you came, Mousey. You were someone who could help me and, better yet, someone I could help. I was created for the purpose of teaching magic, and you have a natural talent for it. Sometimes, you remind me a bit of Erinac.”

Mousey felt his cheeks warm at her words. “Well… maybe I’m somehow related to him?”

Sopher gave a small laugh. “No. He was a hedgehog.”

“Oh…”

Sopher touched a single digit of her paw to the tip of his nose and said, “But, you are kindred in spirit. I’m sure of it.”

“I wish I’d known him,” said Mousey with a smile. “For you to have such happy memories of him, he must have been great.”

“He was,” Sopher said. “As are you.”

Mousey stared into her golden, glowing face. He felt a fluttering in his chest, but he also felt total peace and serenity in Sopher’s presence.

But the peace of the moment broke as the world tore from Mousey’s sight, and he felt his body tumble off the root and into the mud.

He scrambled to his feet and raised his stave to defend himself

against his assailant. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Show yourself!”

Mousey’s eyes searched the camp for any sign of movement. Was it a toad? Another salamander?

He saw that his mother still lay where she had before, still wrapped in the star-covered blanket. Sopher’s spirit had vanished, likely back into the book.

The campfire’s light glimmered on something black and metal nearby. As Mousey stared at it, he recognized that this was a bat, wearing black armor. Mousey aimed his stave and took note of the bat’s height.

“Nycht…” Mousey muttered under his breath. His eyes fell to the sword Nycht held in his claw, and the fire-light gleaming off it.

“Why did you have to do all that, Mousey?” Nycht asked, his deep voice rattling the visor on his helmet. “You were supposed to be my apprentice! The glory of my career! And you threw that all away to help some swamp hopper!”

“You wanted me to murder an innocent.” Mousey shook his head. “I couldn’t do it.”

“Use your sense, pup!” Nycht shouted. “Sometimes, one must do a little wrong for a much greater right!”

“You call serving Queen Felicia a greater good?” Mousey scoffed.

“Yes!” Nycht yelled back. “You might think it cruel, the way she reigns over our people like she does, but it’s far better than any of the alternatives! Without her, there would be other tyrants, far worse, who would come and wipe out all of us!”

Mousey stopped and considered Nycht’s words for a moment, then said, “Is that really what you think? Or is that what they taught you?”

“Things are the way they are for a reason,” said Nycht.

“Things need to change,” said Mousey, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Mice cannot go on, living in fear! Sir Ranae was right… Queen Felicia is a truly terrible tyrant and must be show what’s what! Abandon the Nocturnal Patrol, Nycht! You’re one of us, and you know their secrets. We could use your help to overcome—”

“I’ve been ordered to kill you,” Nycht interrupted. “My superiors were furious with me because of what you did. They said that if I

don’t slay you…”

Mousey dug his paws in the ground, readying himself to move when Nycht attacked.

Nycht pointed his sword at Mousey. “It’s your fault it’s come to this, pup. You should have just obeyed me.”

“I’m always obedient,” Mousey said, “Unless I’m told to do something wrong.”