Simon Thorn and the Wolf's Den by Aimée Carter

Felix could reply, Winter shrieked and scrambled backward, straight into a bench. “You brought a
rat
?”
    â€œExcuse me?” said Felix, his whiskers twitching. “I am not a
rat
—”
    â€œHe’s a mouse, and he won’t hurt anyone,” said Simon, glaring at her.
    â€œDidn’t you listen to anything Orion told you?” she said. “Mammals are ruthless. They’re all working for the Alpha, and they all want to kill you.”
    â€œFelix is my friend,” said Simon. “He doesn’t even know who the Alpha is.”
    â€œYou have to dump him,” said Winter, her eyes wide and wild. “Now.”
    â€œI’m not going to dump him! He’d die,” said Simon.
    â€œIf you want a pet, get a canary or something. Not a rodent.”
    â€œI already told you, he’s not a pet. He’s my fr—”
    â€œEither he goes or I go,” said Winter. “Which is it?”
    Simon crossed his arms over his chest. “Then I’ll just go to Rat Rock on my own, and you can explain to Orion why you helped me escape in the first place.”
    Her mouth dropped open. “You’re seriously as brainless as a sea monkey. You’re going to get us
killed
.”
    â€œMaybe. Maybe not. But if we die, it won’t be Felix’s fault.”
    With a huff, Winter stormed off down the path, and Simon paused long enough to unzip his backpack for Felix.
    â€œYou can stay in here,” he said, setting Felix on top of his socks. “The Rat King will never know you’re there.”
    Felix’s nose twitched indignantly. “I don’t trust her.”
    â€œWell, I do. Make sure to find a soft spot so you don’t get squished.”
    Simon zipped up his backpack and scrambled after Winter. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Felix won’t get us into trouble, I promise.”
    â€œYou better be right.” She veered off the path and ducked through a thin line of trees. “When we get there, let me do the talking. And whatever you do, don’t stare.”
    â€œI’ve seen rats before,” said Simon, following her across a patch of wood chips.
    â€œNot like this, you—”
    â€œWho goes there?”
    An angry hiss filled the air, and Winter jumped. Simon automatically stepped in front of her and looked around. Rocks at least twelve feet high loomed around them, casting shadows across an open space that smelled faintly like sewage.
    From the depths of the boulders came a strange dark shape that looked like nothing Simon had ever seen before. It lurched across the ground in a zigzag pattern that seemingly had no direction at all, as if something were holding it back. The closer it got, the tighter Simon gripped the knife hanging from his belt, until at last it stepped into the afternoon sunlight.
    A dozen rats the size of small dogs inched toward them, their razor-sharp teeth bared and their fur matted and dirty. Finally Simon understood why they moved so slowly: their tails were tied together, making it impossible for them to separate.
    â€œIs that—?” said Simon.
    â€œYeah,” said Winter with a gulp. “That’s the Rat King.”

7
    THE RAT KING
    Simon knew it was rude to stare, but he couldn’t help it as the tangle of rats stopped a few feet away. He had never seen anything like it. “Which one’s the Rat King?” he whispered to Winter.
    â€œNone of them. It’s how rats punish one another—by tying their tails together and mocking them,” she whispered back. “I told you, they’re a joke, even to their own kingdom.”
    They didn’t seem like a joke to Simon. Even if they couldn’t move well, they were still what nightmares were made of.
    â€œAnswer us,” one of the rats demanded. It was the biggest of them all, with an abnormally thin face and greasy, matted gray fur. “Who are you?”
    â€œ