The courtyard fell into a surreal silence, broken only by the squeaks echoing like war drums.
Zephyr's smirk had long gone, replaced by a look that said, 'I still don't understand what's going on, but it's not good.'
The elders and his siblings behind him had stiffened, while Raven merely slid his hands out of his pockets, whistling again—this time sharp and clear.
The next second, from the front ranks of the furry army, one squirrel stepped forward.
He was slightly bigger than the rest, his fur streaked with silver, his tail banded like a banner. Around his tiny neck hung a necklace of acorn caps, each one scarred like medals of war.
Above all, he had a scar running down his left eye.
He was Chatterfang, Nibbles's brother, and now the commander and the general of the squirrel armed forces.
The squirrels behind him immediately straightened, tails rigid like spears. Even the undead seemed to hesitate at the weight of the little creature's presence.
