“For a long time, Fredle sat where he was, glad to have made it, glad to feel the dry ground under him, glad to feel a ceiling even closer overhead than the ceiling over his territory under the porch, mostly just glad to have gotten safely back inside. After that long time, he began to make his way toward the light. This was nothing like sun-filled daylight, or even the cold brightness of the moon. In fact, it was the dim kind of light he remembered from home. As he crossed the packed dirt, some...times stumbling over a stone or a piece of wood, his eyes gradually grew accustomed and he saw that the brighter space ahead had the same shape as the windows in the foundation of the house. Coming closer, he began to hear something. Voices, he thought, and maybe even mouse voices. But it couldn’t be, and especially it couldn’t be the voices of many mouselets, which was what it really sounded like. One of the first things a mouselet learned was to be silent, no matter what was making him unhappy, no matter how hungry or frightened or even excited he might feel.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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