A Tail of Camelot by Julie Leung Page B

milky-colored tide pools spotted the cave floor. The walls were encrusted with crystal stalagmites that glowed. Calib felt as if he had happened upon an entirely new, alien world. He had never seen anything like it.
    â€œWow,” he whispered. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Calib spotted a blur of white.
    Something was moving behind him in the darkness.
    Something big.
    Panicked, he spun around, backing up until he was pressed against the cave wall. A scream rose in his throat and froze there, choking him.
    Near the ceiling of the cave, a stone ledge overlooked the largest tide pool.
    And on it was perched an enormous white wolf.

CHAPTER
12
    T he wolf’s stare pinned him to the spot. Its eyes were mismatched and unsettling, one icy blue, the other sea green. Calib felt as if his whole body had been replaced by soft cheese.
    â€œGreetings, master mouse,” the wolf said at last, in a conversational tone. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a visitor.”
    Calib could not make his voice work.
    The wolf’s smile displayed all his finely sharpened teeth. “And you are . . . ?”
    â€œC-Calib. Please don’t eat me,” Calib managed to squeak out. He was so afraid, he could feel his heart wrapping itself around his vocal cords.
    â€œI’m Howell,” said the wolf, ignoring the second half of Calib’s statement. “Welcome to my cave.”
    â€œWolves don’t live in caves,” Calib blurted out, unthinking.
    â€œI am no ordinary wolf.” Howell jumped off the ledge and landed close to Calib. The mouse leaped back in alarm. Calib shook like a newborn fawn. Howell took a long sniff. “And you are no ordinary mouse.”
    â€œOh, yes. Yes, I am. Definitely ordinary. Nothing special at all.” Run. That was all Calib could think. He had to run. He would risk drowning in the ocean if it meant getting away. Calib began to reach for a shell in his rucksack, with the intent of chucking it at the wolf. If he aimed directly for one of his eyes . . .
    â€œI disagree.” The wolf exhaled. “You greatly resemble your father, you know.”
    Calib’s paw instinctively flew to the white patch of fur on his right ear. He nearly dropped the rucksack entirely.
    â€œYou—you knew my father?” Calib stammered, his fear eclipsed by curiosity.
    â€œOnly a Christopher mouse could have ventured so far on his own.” Howell smiled again. This time, his teeth did not seem so scary. “Sir Trenton did me a greatservice once. One that cost him much in return. I have not forgotten that. How fares Camelot these days?”
    Calib, still struck with wonder, found himself slowly relaxing. He shook his head. “Terrible things have happened . . . and the Sword in the Stone has reappeared!”
    Howell frowned and tilted his great head. “Tell me more.”
    Without knowing exactly why, Calib felt like he could trust the wolf. Now that he had found his voice again, he couldn’t stop the words from bubbling out. Calib recounted everything that had happened in the Goldenwood Hall that one awful night, though he left out the part where he had prayed for the tournament to be canceled. Calib still couldn’t bring himself to talk about his cowardice.
    â€œCommander Yvers dead and Two-Bits accused?” Howell sounded troubled. “And who has brought the charge against Two-Bits?”
    â€œSir Percival Vole found Two-Bits’s tooth in Commander Yvers’s armor, and this page—this horrible, mean page named Warren—said he saw a black squirrel. Only . . .” Calib frowned, remembering the overheard conversation in the council room. “Only . . . I don’t think he could have.”
    â€œAssassination is not the Darkling way.” Howell swung his enormous snout side to side, pondering this for a long moment. “These accusations are preposterous. And how has everyone taken the