But the scratching sound wasn’t coming from the nest. It was coming from below the nest—from a crack in the foundation where a family of field mice had taken refuge. Ember could hear them. She could smell them. For three years, she had been trying to warn her humans about the colony living under their home. The staring was vigilance. The trembling was frustration. The food circles? A desperate attempt to impose order on a world full of hidden, chittering chaos.
But the story didn’t end there.
