As Benjamin took another step back, he heard the frantic tapping of little feet coming up behind him. A gray field mouse ran right past without noticing him and stood in the middle of the room, heaving and panting. He took a deep breath and yelled as loud as he could, “Assassination! The king is dead!” When he saw all the animals curled up against the walls, he turned and took one look at Benjamin before his eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted. The room came alive with whispering.

“Dead? The king is dead?!”

“Assassination? On him?”

Whispering turned into yelling, weeping, crying, howling, and other laments. They no longer cared that a human was in the room.

“Our king is dead!” yelled a basset hound.

Benjamin had seen enough. He spun around and took off. The rat-terrier remembered the sparkling bracelet. “No, wait!” he yelled, but Benjamin disappeared around the corner, carefully running in the darkness with the fading sounds of crying behind him. His hands against the dark walls led him forward until his eyes readjusted to the slight blue glow of the cold tunnel. He was soon in total darkness but felt himself moving uphill and knew he was getting close to the entrance.

As he approached, the sticks covering the hole sprang open. Fresh air, sunlight and the heat of the dwindling summer warmed his face. He climbed out, hopped onto the road, and ran all the way up his driveway, his mind racing as fast as his feet. A last burst of adrenaline propelled him to the front porch. He hunched over with exhaustion.

Benjamin walked into the kitchen, where his parents both still sat at the table. The color was drained from his face as he sat down beside them, still out of breath. His wide-eyed mom dropped her fork.

“Honey! What happened to you?!”

“Where’s the paper?” his dad asked.

Benjamin didn’t know what to say. “I…uh…I saw a snake” was what came out.

CHAPTER THREE

Chaos in the Cave

EVERYONE IN THE CAVE spoke at once. The mouse was still passed out on the floor.

“I’m telling you guys, that boy could hear what we were saying,” Paco, the rat-terrier, said to a group of ducks.

“How is that possible?” a mallard asked.

“We have much bigger problems. The king has been assassinated!” A small yellow duck tucked her head under her wing and started to cry.

Paco paced back and forth to collect his thoughts. “We need answers, and quick.” He looked down at the mouse. “Has he come to his senses yet?”

A gray tabby cat pawed at his face, but there was no reaction. “No, he’s still out.”

The other animals were deep in despairing talk. Their hopelessness and confusion grew louder by the minute.

“What are we going to do?” a shaking lamb bleated. “We’ve got to have a king!”