top of the snow globe in Truman’s arms.
“Hey!” Truman said. “Watch out!” He stumbled backward and accidentally stepped on a paw. That mewler let out a violent screech and the others hissed, arching their backs.
“Sorry!” Truman said, inching back toward the tunnel. Maybe these creatures were kicked out of the Fixed World for a very good reason. Maybe they hated humans. “I think I should go home now. I’m not supposed to be here.”
Then, from the other side of the room, there was a loud snort. “Who is it? Back again? Not this time!” The bed that Truman had thought was covered with quilts actually had just one quilt, covering a small, pudgy woman who was now rustling awake. She grabbed a rolling pin from under the pillow. “Listen here! I’m armed! And me mewlers are set to attack!” She waved the rolling pin blindly in the air.
The mewlers, taking their cue from her, became aggressive. They started grabbing Truman’s legs, their claws digging through his pajama pants into his skin. He toppled over and they pounced on him. “Stop it!” he shouted. “Get off of me!”
“Where’s Praddle? Is she home yet? Praddle?” the old woman was calling. Was this the mewler who’d led him to this terrifying place? “Who is it, mewlers? Who is here? Another thief?” And then Truman felt a hand reach into the pile of mewlers and pull him up by his pajama top.
For a brief moment, he was face to face with the old woman. She stared at him with her large eyes, one of which was a shocking bright blue and the other shiny and black—not an eye at all, really. It was more like a large, shiny black pearl!
And then Truman, gripping his snow globe with both arms, let out a scream—so sharp and high and sudden that it surprised even him. The old woman was shocked too, so much so that her hand sprang open, releasing Truman, and the mewlers all reared back.
Just as Truman scrambled to his feet, one mewler jumped and landed on his back. He had no time to shake it off. He hurled himself toward the front door, flung it open, and ran out into the dark, snowy night.
“Praddle!” the old woman was crying into the wind. “Praddle! Come back!”
CHAPTER TEN
The Rider’s Cloak
With the swirling snow globe clutched to his chest and the creature on his back, Truman ran through the snow, dodging trees, jumping and stumbling over dips and roots. His heart was pounding in his ears. He could barely see in the dark. The snow was coming down fast. He kept running until he found the courage to glance behind him. No one was following—except the mewler hitching a ride on his shoulder.
“Get off!” Truman shouted breathlessly, and then he doubled over, his hands on his knees.
The mewler slipped off Truman’s shoulder.
Truman looked at the mewler. “You’re that cat that got me into this in the first place. Aren’t you?”
“Mewlerrr,” she said.
“Your name’s Praddle, right?”
Praddle nodded.
Truman sat down on a rock, set the snow globe by his side, and rubbed his icy feet with his hands. “Well, Praddle, any idea on how to get me
out
of this?”
Praddle wrung her hands and shrugged.
The wind whipped Truman’s hair and ruffled Praddle’s shiny fur. Truman closed his eyes and tears slid from the corners. And when he closed his eyes, he saw the image of two eyes—one blue, one a black pearl. “Was that woman Swelda’s sister?” Truman whispered. “Ickbee?”
“Yesss!” Praddle hissed.
“Why did she want to kill me?” Truman cried.
“She wasss being sssafe!” Praddle hissed.
“Really?” Truman snorted. “She was about to bludgeon me with a rolling pin!”
“She’sss been waiting for you!”
“She could have shown more hospitality,” Truman said.
“You should go back to herrr!”
“I’m not going back there. No way.” But where
was
he going? It was dark and cold and snowing. “I’ll probably get frostbite and have to get my nose amputated,” he muttered. He thought about
“Hey!” Truman said. “Watch out!” He stumbled backward and accidentally stepped on a paw. That mewler let out a violent screech and the others hissed, arching their backs.
“Sorry!” Truman said, inching back toward the tunnel. Maybe these creatures were kicked out of the Fixed World for a very good reason. Maybe they hated humans. “I think I should go home now. I’m not supposed to be here.”
Then, from the other side of the room, there was a loud snort. “Who is it? Back again? Not this time!” The bed that Truman had thought was covered with quilts actually had just one quilt, covering a small, pudgy woman who was now rustling awake. She grabbed a rolling pin from under the pillow. “Listen here! I’m armed! And me mewlers are set to attack!” She waved the rolling pin blindly in the air.
The mewlers, taking their cue from her, became aggressive. They started grabbing Truman’s legs, their claws digging through his pajama pants into his skin. He toppled over and they pounced on him. “Stop it!” he shouted. “Get off of me!”
“Where’s Praddle? Is she home yet? Praddle?” the old woman was calling. Was this the mewler who’d led him to this terrifying place? “Who is it, mewlers? Who is here? Another thief?” And then Truman felt a hand reach into the pile of mewlers and pull him up by his pajama top.
For a brief moment, he was face to face with the old woman. She stared at him with her large eyes, one of which was a shocking bright blue and the other shiny and black—not an eye at all, really. It was more like a large, shiny black pearl!
And then Truman, gripping his snow globe with both arms, let out a scream—so sharp and high and sudden that it surprised even him. The old woman was shocked too, so much so that her hand sprang open, releasing Truman, and the mewlers all reared back.
Just as Truman scrambled to his feet, one mewler jumped and landed on his back. He had no time to shake it off. He hurled himself toward the front door, flung it open, and ran out into the dark, snowy night.
“Praddle!” the old woman was crying into the wind. “Praddle! Come back!”
CHAPTER TEN
The Rider’s Cloak
With the swirling snow globe clutched to his chest and the creature on his back, Truman ran through the snow, dodging trees, jumping and stumbling over dips and roots. His heart was pounding in his ears. He could barely see in the dark. The snow was coming down fast. He kept running until he found the courage to glance behind him. No one was following—except the mewler hitching a ride on his shoulder.
“Get off!” Truman shouted breathlessly, and then he doubled over, his hands on his knees.
The mewler slipped off Truman’s shoulder.
Truman looked at the mewler. “You’re that cat that got me into this in the first place. Aren’t you?”
“Mewlerrr,” she said.
“Your name’s Praddle, right?”
Praddle nodded.
Truman sat down on a rock, set the snow globe by his side, and rubbed his icy feet with his hands. “Well, Praddle, any idea on how to get me
out
of this?”
Praddle wrung her hands and shrugged.
The wind whipped Truman’s hair and ruffled Praddle’s shiny fur. Truman closed his eyes and tears slid from the corners. And when he closed his eyes, he saw the image of two eyes—one blue, one a black pearl. “Was that woman Swelda’s sister?” Truman whispered. “Ickbee?”
“Yesss!” Praddle hissed.
“Why did she want to kill me?” Truman cried.
“She wasss being sssafe!” Praddle hissed.
“Really?” Truman snorted. “She was about to bludgeon me with a rolling pin!”
“She’sss been waiting for you!”
“She could have shown more hospitality,” Truman said.
“You should go back to herrr!”
“I’m not going back there. No way.” But where
was
he going? It was dark and cold and snowing. “I’ll probably get frostbite and have to get my nose amputated,” he muttered. He thought about
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