Ravenspell Book 2: The Wizard of Ooze by David Farland Page A

filled with nasty papers and old boxes. Here was food, copious amounts of food. No human had ever tasted it.
    “It’s a trap!” she shouted.
    At that instant, she heard a cracking noise above her and whirled to look up.
    A dozen humans had surrounded the garbage can. They looked like Special Forces troops decked out in solid black night gear. They carried automatic rifles, had night goggles covering their right eyes, and wore thick flak jackets.
    A dozen rifles were pointed at Meadowsweet’s chest, the little red dots from their laser sights shining on her like a brilliant red sun.
    A lone man pushed his way through the crowd. He wore a special bio-terrorism suit made of gold foil, with a thick green glass on the faceplate. His suit was especially made not only to keep out chemicals, but also to withstand the radiation and heat of a nearby nuclear blast.
    The human peered down, breathing heavily through the respirator on the suit, and growled something in the human tongue.
    General Crawley aimed his own pistol at the mouse, and said, “Listen to me, you little Martian nutcase vermin: my name is Ira Crawley, and I’m a general in APE—Americans Protecting Earth. You might even call me the Big APE. This here is my planet, and if you try to poke me with that needle of yours, I wouldn’t give a ball of boiled snot for your chances of survival. You hear me? Now take me to your leader!”
    Meadowsweet, of course, didn’t understand a single word that he said. But she could sense the rage in his tone, and she knew that she was caught.
    Trembling in fear, she dropped her little spear and surrendered.

Chapter 15
    THE STRAGE BURROW
    When you’re weary to the bone,
    Even the humblest burrow
    Feels like home.
—A SAYING AMONG VOLES

The burrow smelled clean and healthy, like sweet hay.
    Amber woke to find Ben holding her. She was dead tired and covered with sweat. Her heart was beating wildly and she panted for breath, as if she’d just got done with a long, hard fight.
    Ben’s paws were wrapped around her, covering her ears.
    It happened again, she realized. I succumbed to the wormsong.
    Something clobbered her on the head. Startled, she looked up. Snow hurtled through the air in huge, white flakes large enough to brain an unfortunate mouse. A fierce storm was battering the mountains, raging all around.
    To her surprise, she was on the ground, waist deep in snow. The last thing she remembered was flying a white owl. In the blinding storm she could see no sign of her ride.
    She was still tied to Ben with the fishing line, and Bushmaster was tied to her. Last on the line came Thorn, who even now was struggling blindly uphill, enthralled by wormsong, trying to head east into the storm.
    Bushmaster fought him, trying to hold him back. Overhead, gray clouds loomed, and Amber could hear the distant growling of thunder, like a predator in the heavens.
    “Where are we?” Amber asked.
    “On the west side of the ridge,” Ben panted, because he was heaving in great breaths. “The wormsong . . . is quieter here. Come on. There’s a cave up ahead, here in the rocks.”
    “But where is our owl?” Amber cried. She was panting too. She realized that she had been fighting Ben.
    “You fell off. It was lucky that we were tied together. It was the only thing that kept you from dying in a fall. Once I got that stupid owl to land, I let it fly away.”
    Ben pulled her to her feet and stood with his paws still covering her ears. Amber could see that he was sweating. Dimly she could still hear the alluring song.
    I must have put up quite a struggle, she thought. She realized dully that she was sick with fatigue. Every muscle in her body ached, as if a cottontail had clobbered her, and her legs and lungs were burning from effort.
    It was dark outside, darker than even the heavy clouds could account for, and Amber realized that it must be near sundown. Yet last she remembered, it had only been noon.
    “How long was I out?” she wondered