Food may give life, but it is hope and love that giving meaning to our lives.

—Rufus Flycatcher

As the moon sailed through the sky, Nightwing's minions searched abroad, bringing creatures in from the forest, so that Nightwing could expand his army.

Several times during the night, Ben was awakened as eagles were brought, beaks bound tightly with ropes braided from blackberry vines, with their sharp thorns. Snakes were dragged in, hissing and rattling.

And each time a pair was found, Nightwing would immediately mush the two together, forming a new monster, to the gleeful howls and yammers of his minions.

Ben climbed on Nightwing's belly and just squatted, his eight legs hooked into the bat's fur, and dropped in and out of consciousness during the night.

He was too tired to stay awake, and too tormented to sleep.

In his dreams, Ben sat as a mute witness to the sight of death, the sounds of battle, the cries of torment. When he woke, it was even worse, for the odor of blood and gore saturated the cave; and though the scent nauseated Ben, the smell of blood also aroused him.

A tick knows the smell of food. Ben fought the craving.

But the worst part was that he felt sure that if he remained a tick for long, his hunger would get the better of him, and he would feast upon Nightwing's blood.

Sort of like a vampire in reverse, he thought.

Ben faded out of consciousness, growing ever weaker. The hunger was numbing, driving all reason from his mind.

I can't go on living like this, Ben realized. It would be better to die than to live with this hunger.

And with that realization, a plan began to take form in his mind.

Without me, Nightwing would be weakened, Ben realized. He wouldn't be able to carry out his stupid war. He wouldn't be able to mush helpless animals, turning them into monsters.

All that I have to do is run away.

But what then? Ben wondered.

I could sneak out of here at dawn, after everyone has gone to bed, and go back to Amber. Maybe, if I'm lucky, she'll turn me back into a mouse.

Ben realized that it would be a long trip. He was at the coast, some sixty miles or more from his home. Walking home as a human would have been a huge job, but trying to do it as a tick, a tick who hadn't even figured out how to use all eight legs?

It was hopeless.

I'll never make it, Ben realized. I'll die long before I reach home.

And then with finality he realized, and I don't really care. I'd rather be dead, than a tick well fed.

The owl needed to rest that night. Climbing high in the thin air to skirt over the mountaintops was a tough job, even for a gnarly old owl.

And so it was near dawn when the great horned owl glided down over the dark pine forests toward the gray ocean. It skirted just above the treetops as it headed toward the strange lighthouse atop Shrew Hill. Ahead, gnarled little leafless trees raised their branches as if in despair, and Amber could see hot water creating a fog that flowed through the woods, hiding them.

"Shrew Hill," the owl said as they approached. "I see guardians about, monsters in the wood. But the defenses are built for a large-scale assault. A single mouse, approaching warily, might get through."

Amber had been thinking all night. She didn't know how much magic power she had left. For all that she knew, she'd used it all just to hijack the owl.

So she didn't want to confront Nightwing. No, she'd have to sneak in, find Ben, and then carry him back out.

If Nightwing slept during the day, then Amber imagined that it would be safest to wait until well after dawn.

So when the owl dropped her at the edge of the strange woods, Amber thanked him, and set him free. The sun was just rising, and as the owl took off and beat his mighty feathers, soaring over the haunted wood, Amber heard the cries of beasts as they shouted warning, "Intruder. There's an owl loose."

She heard the sounds of large creatures lumbering through the brush, as if to give chase to the owl, and silently she thanked the good bird for the diversion. Then she moved forward warily, gripping her spear, keeping under heavy cover—hop, stop, and look.

Dawn stole through the sky slowly that morning, golden light creeping over the earth, creating a glow that limned the opening to the cave.

The monsters that lived in Nightwing's shadow had been up all night, celebrating as each new eagle and snake was mushed into one. And so now the cave grew quiet—except for the snores of sleeping creatures.

Ben had been clinging to the fur on Nightwing's belly. Now he peered around, looking for signs of danger.

Most of the monsters lay on their backs or sides, breathing deeply, perhaps emitting a small growl as they dreamed, or scratching wildly at fleas. But it wasn't possible to tell if all of the monsters were asleep: The lightning spiders had let their lights burn low, but their faceted eyes gleamed in the darkness, and Ben imagined that if he even touched one of their shiny webs, the spiders would come darting out to meet him. And there were snakes and other monsters that had no eyelids, so that if they slept, Ben had no way of knowing.

He looked about, then leapt down from Nightwing. It would have been a mighty leap if he were a human, for Nightwing was clinging to the ceiling, and when Ben jumped, he dropped hundreds of times his own height.

He landed on a rock, his eight legs catching his weight nicely.

Then he began to scurry for the exit.

Monsters guarded the way: possum-lizards with sharp teeth and evil smiles; porcupine-weasels that could run faster than the wind; scorpion-skunks that smelled almost as deadly as their stings.

And all of them were so much larger than Ben. He had to creep among them, his eight tiny feet clattering over the stone.

At first he was afraid that they might wake and see him. But then he realized that if one of the monsters even just rolled over on top of him, it could be disastrous.

So he sneaked past the creatures, until he reached a pool of steaming water.

He jumped in and began to swim as best he could, his eight legs in a tangle. "My Father in Heaven," he prayed as he swam, "don't let there be any fish in these pools. Not even a guppy. Please."

And thus he swam for what seemed a long hour, until, exhausted, he reached the far end of the pool.

By now, the sun had risen, and the golden glow that had encircled the front of the cave was strong and silver. Ben could smell pine trees outside, and the salty scent of the ocean.

He scrambled over a long expanse of rock, into the sunlight, afraid that at any moment, some lizard guard would rush up and gobble him down.

Then he was at the mouth of the cave, looking down over the wild woods, the twisted trees and cruel vines. Then he heard a deep voice, a growl, at his back. "What are you doing out here? Trying to run away?"

Ben turned, and his heart sank. There, just behind him at the mouth of the cave, slithered a creature half eagle, half rattlesnake. Ben peered up at the cruel beak and golden eyes of the Conqueror Worm.