I had been sleeping lightly when my little girl rushed into the room and frantically scrabbled at my cage door. It was the middle of the day, which was normally when I slept most deeply, but I had been noticing strange noises and smells for several hours that were keeping me on edge. When they first started, I'd been on high alert, but after it became obvious that there was no immediate threat I had retreated to my box to try and catch a little shut-eye. Not that it had worked particularly well, and there was no way I could ignore my little girl's obvious distress.

  I poked my nose out of my box and sniffed the air. I didn't get much of a chance to do a full inspection of the room before my little girl successfully unlatched the door and reached her hand into my cage.

  "Come here, Snuggles," she said, voice so quiet she was practically whispering. "Come on, Princess Snugglypants. There's a good rat."

  Something was definitely wrong. It sounded like my little girl was on the verge of tears, and she only ever used my full name when she was very serious or angry. But she was holding her hand out in the way that she did when she had a treat, so I exited my box and ran over to her.

  Sadly, no treat was forthcoming, but she did scoop me up and deposit me on her shoulder where I could nestle into her hair. I wrapped my tail around the back of her neck for added stability.

  "Shhh, Snuggles. We have to be quiet."

  That was rich, coming from a human. They were about as subtle as a rockslide, most of the time.

  With me on her shoulder, my little girl did her best to creep from the room, peering fearfully around the corner before she entered the hallway. A rat would have done it better, but you couldn't hold that against humans; they were so absurdly oversized, after all.

  Strange. Although the apartment was typically quieter during the day, thanks to Mommy being away at work, it was unusually still now. I sniffed the air and looked around, but Daddy didn't appear to be here and there was an odd smell coming from the entryway. There was definitely something wrong; Daddy never left the apartment for any length of time without taking my little girl with him.

  As we entered the front hall, I discovered the source of the odd smell. The door was hanging partially off its hinges, and there appeared to be a hole punched through it where the knob normally lived. This sort of damage would make Daddy absolutely livid; had he gone to get things to fix the door?

  "Quiet as a mouse, quiet as a mouse," my little girl chanted under her breath, clearly gearing herself up for something. Though mice weren't nearly as sneaky as they thought they were, the rude little stinkers. "They won't catch me if I'm quiet. Daddy said." Her pulse throbbed under my paws, and I nuzzled her cheek to cheer her up. At the movement, she reached up and gave me an almost uncomfortably tight squeeze. "I can do this. For Snuggles' sake."

  She crept to the door, and after carefully peering both ways down the hallway proceeded into the outer hall.

  I don't get out of the apartment much, since my humans are a little over-protective, but I still remembered the general layout from when they brought me home from the Bad Place. Our apartment is on the second floor, and there's an outer hall that wraps around the edges of the building, terminating in a stairwell that leads down to the ground floor. Or up, I suppose, but I've never been up there so I'm not sure what's above us. Presumably more apartments, judging from the rude things Daddy has said about the upstairs neighbors when there are clomping noises from the ceiling late at night.

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  There are windows spaced along the outer edge of the hallway at intervals, and my little girl did an admirable job of creeping low and staying to the wedge where the wall intersected the floor under the windows. It made it a little trickier to remain stable on her shoulder, but I had plenty of practice. I was proud of her for finally displaying some properly ratty behavior. Normally humans stagger around on only two legs, which—speaking from personal experience—is very awkward and painful. I don't know why they insist on doing so, but admittedly their knees and hips bend in very disturbing ways, so maybe they can't help it.

  Whatever it was that was making my little girl so scared didn't show up, and we successfully navigated the hallway and down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, my little girl eased the outer door open, checked in all directions, and then braced it with her opposite hip while she knelt down and scooped me off her shoulder with her hand.

  She paused for a moment, cradling me in her arms as her breath hitched, and then to my utter shock she set me down on the ground outside. I stared up at her, unsure what to do. Although my humans occasionally let me roam around the apartment, they had never taken me outdoors like this.

  "Go on, Snuggles," said the little girl. "At least I can save you." And she started to cry.

  I didn't know what to do. On the one paw, the smells outside were amazing and I had always wanted to explore them more closely. But my little girl was clearly in great distress, and I wasn't sure how to cheer her up. I took a tentative step toward her, and she reached out and stopped me with a touch. Although she seemed to want to push me away, she almost involuntarily curled her fingers against my side. "No, go! I have to go back inside and—wait for Mommy. If they haven't got her, too..."

  And she began to sob in earnest.

  This was not alright. I was about to climb up her arm to properly comfort her, when a sound caused me to twist around. Standing at the end of the path leading from the side door to the street was a very strange looking creature.

  It was walking on two legs like a human, and was of a similar height to Mommy, but the similarities ended there. The thing had deep blue skin, which was something I'd never seen before, and it appeared to completely lack hair. Its eyes were large, without pupils, and protruding from its head. It was lightly clothed in what appeared to be oversized boxer shorts, and on its hand was some sort of gauntlet that it currently clutched in a fist.

  My little girl's focus snapped to the thing, and she moaned in distress.

  The creature made some sort of squawking sound and began to advance on us. My little girl jerked back toward the stairwell, and through the corner of my vision I could just make out her curling in on herself. "No! Get away! Run Snuggles!"

  My little girl was deathly afraid of this thing. From what she said, this thing or maybe things like it had taken Daddy and perhaps Mommy somewhere they did not want to go, leaving my little girl alone. This was unacceptable; leaving kits who are too young to take care of themselves alone is not done.

  Most importantly, it was making my little girl cry.

  It was clearly a foe that so greatly outclassed the both of us that my little girl had already given up and was now quivering in fear on the ground.

  I never wanted to see something like this. My little girl was warmth and treats and freedom and everything good in this world. She might not be my kit, but alongside Daddy and Mommy I was certainly helping to raise her.

  Without conscious thought, I began to run.