already that it looked as if they’d swallowed pillows, and they didn’t even bother hunting anymore. Most just lay atop a rock, sunning. Perhaps when a mouse scurried over them by accident, they’d eat it.
Only one coyote bothered to try hunting—if it could be called hunting. It was lying in the snow at the bottom of the ice sheet, with its mouth open. The mice were so thick on the ground, that it was black with them, and every few seconds, a mouse or two would step into the coyote’s mouth, and it would simply snap the helpless mouse up and then swallow.
Amber watched the scene in horror, feeling dazed. She’d seen something like this in her vision last week while peering into the newt’s eyes. She’d seen mice marching blindly toward destruction. Somehow it hadn’t seemed real.
Now their plight struck her to the heart.
And suddenly she was up above the ridge, the owl cresting the mountain, and she heard wormsong even through her helmet of carved walnut:
Nectar pools in silver flowers,
Sweeter than a winding stream.
Drink and thirst no more forever,
In the wellspring of your dreams.
The song hit her like a numbing blast, and all of her thoughts left her, all of her hopes.
Amber heard the voice, and took a step out into thin air . . .
Chapter 14
CREEPY CRAWLY
When our enemy sees the face of pure evil,
it had better belong to one of my troops.
—GENERAL CRAWLEY
The human peered down, breathing heavily through the respirator on the suit.
Meadowsweet the vole crept under the fence into the yard behind Latonia Pumpernickel’s house, leading a contingent of mice and voles on a raid of the garbage can.
They skirted a huge fir tree, using a forest of mushrooms as a screen to hide them from predators. Meadowsweet was armed with a spear made from a wooden toothpick, and she wore a helmet made of walnut shell, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
She stopped for a long moment and peered toward the garbage can. Something was wrong.
She sniffed the air for Domino the cat. She and the mice had chased it off a few nights ago, but cats had a way of returning.
All she could smell was humans. Nothing strange about that. They were, after all, right behind a human’s house.
Meadowsweet reached the clearing at the edge of the lawn and took one last look toward the midday sky. No sign of hawks or crows or other flying predators.
With a squeak, she took her spear in her mouth and raced to the nearest garbage can.
The pet shop mice followed her with shouts of triumph. As Meadowsweet waited at the base of the can, gripping her spear and watching for predators, other mice raced up.
One of them hurled a grappling hook over the lip of the garbage can, then began climbing the knotted fishing line.
In seconds, half a dozen mice were in the can, and last of all, Meadowsweet climbed to the very lip. There she whirled and looked about, still on guard duty.
Dozens of tantalizing odors assailed Meadowsweet. She could smell lettuce and leftover cucumber salad. She smelled freshly baked granola and peanut butter cookies.
Meadowsweet’s stomach rumbled from hunger; her mouth began to water.
“Score!” one of the mice shouted as he found something wonderful. There were chattering cries of delight, shouting, “Oh, my gosh!” and “I’ve never seen anything like it!”
Meadowsweet heard the mice shuffling through papers and diving deep into the garbage.
She was so hungry that she couldn’t help peering down into the garbage can to see what the others had found.
Craning her neck, she spotted a wonderland. There was a huge pepperoni pizza lying in a bed of salads. A forest of tender peeled carrots rose up from the pizza, and in its very center was a mountain of blueberries.
Lining the sides of the garbage can were cookies and fudge of every description.
Meadowsweet peered at it all, her heart pounding in delight.
But something was wrong, she decided. There was too much food. This wasn’t like the other garbage cans,
Only one coyote bothered to try hunting—if it could be called hunting. It was lying in the snow at the bottom of the ice sheet, with its mouth open. The mice were so thick on the ground, that it was black with them, and every few seconds, a mouse or two would step into the coyote’s mouth, and it would simply snap the helpless mouse up and then swallow.
Amber watched the scene in horror, feeling dazed. She’d seen something like this in her vision last week while peering into the newt’s eyes. She’d seen mice marching blindly toward destruction. Somehow it hadn’t seemed real.
Now their plight struck her to the heart.
And suddenly she was up above the ridge, the owl cresting the mountain, and she heard wormsong even through her helmet of carved walnut:
Nectar pools in silver flowers,
Sweeter than a winding stream.
Drink and thirst no more forever,
In the wellspring of your dreams.
The song hit her like a numbing blast, and all of her thoughts left her, all of her hopes.
Amber heard the voice, and took a step out into thin air . . .
Chapter 14
CREEPY CRAWLY
When our enemy sees the face of pure evil,
it had better belong to one of my troops.
—GENERAL CRAWLEY
The human peered down, breathing heavily through the respirator on the suit.
Meadowsweet the vole crept under the fence into the yard behind Latonia Pumpernickel’s house, leading a contingent of mice and voles on a raid of the garbage can.
They skirted a huge fir tree, using a forest of mushrooms as a screen to hide them from predators. Meadowsweet was armed with a spear made from a wooden toothpick, and she wore a helmet made of walnut shell, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
She stopped for a long moment and peered toward the garbage can. Something was wrong.
She sniffed the air for Domino the cat. She and the mice had chased it off a few nights ago, but cats had a way of returning.
All she could smell was humans. Nothing strange about that. They were, after all, right behind a human’s house.
Meadowsweet reached the clearing at the edge of the lawn and took one last look toward the midday sky. No sign of hawks or crows or other flying predators.
With a squeak, she took her spear in her mouth and raced to the nearest garbage can.
The pet shop mice followed her with shouts of triumph. As Meadowsweet waited at the base of the can, gripping her spear and watching for predators, other mice raced up.
One of them hurled a grappling hook over the lip of the garbage can, then began climbing the knotted fishing line.
In seconds, half a dozen mice were in the can, and last of all, Meadowsweet climbed to the very lip. There she whirled and looked about, still on guard duty.
Dozens of tantalizing odors assailed Meadowsweet. She could smell lettuce and leftover cucumber salad. She smelled freshly baked granola and peanut butter cookies.
Meadowsweet’s stomach rumbled from hunger; her mouth began to water.
“Score!” one of the mice shouted as he found something wonderful. There were chattering cries of delight, shouting, “Oh, my gosh!” and “I’ve never seen anything like it!”
Meadowsweet heard the mice shuffling through papers and diving deep into the garbage.
She was so hungry that she couldn’t help peering down into the garbage can to see what the others had found.
Craning her neck, she spotted a wonderland. There was a huge pepperoni pizza lying in a bed of salads. A forest of tender peeled carrots rose up from the pizza, and in its very center was a mountain of blueberries.
Lining the sides of the garbage can were cookies and fudge of every description.
Meadowsweet peered at it all, her heart pounding in delight.
But something was wrong, she decided. There was too much food. This wasn’t like the other garbage cans,
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