Mrs. Brisby was about halfway home when she saw the footprints for herself.

She stood there, at the base of the massive tree that overhung the open path, frozen in shock at the trail of massive prints that led across it; an icy chill that had nothing to do with the cold ran through her very bones at the sight of them. The wind blew gently through the leaves, the gentle rustling being the only noise she could hear throughout the woods, creating an ominous silence that was only amplified by the appearance of the tracks.

They were gigantic. Each one on their own was easily large enough for her and all four of her children to stand in comfortably with room to spare; they were deep too, at least half her height in depth, telling of the sheer size of the beast that made them. There were two individual sets of footprints, one for each set of legs, showing that it was a creature that walked on all fours. The prints of the hind feet looked like those of a bird or lizard, though they had no backwards-facing 'thumb': just four long, spread-out toes that ended in the grooves of sharp claws. The prints of the front feet were peculiar, though: they almost looked like a human or fairy's handprint, with five fingers, albeit with a reptilian shape and even longer claws. And both prints had light but clear imprints of sharp, patterned grooves in the dirt; scales, like those of Jedidiah's footprints.

And worst of all: they were fresh, the mud still wet and smeared around the edges.

But it wasn't just the size and appearance of these monster footprints that made the mouse doe's throat clench in horror. It was where they were that made her heart seize in her chest.

How close they were to her home.

She knew this path all too well; it was one she had traveled many times. It was the path that led to a small lagoon at the edge of the lake. A beautiful, outright magical place where flowers grew in all the colors of the rainbow, and the fireflies danced through the warm summer nights, and the stars reflected perfectly across the still waters. Johnathan had taken her there when they first moved to these lands, when Martin was just an infant and Teresa was no older than Cynthia was now. Many of her most wonderful memories with her beloved were of the nights they shared in that lagoon, a few of which no doubt led to the birth of the rest of her equally-wonderful children.

It was a place they would all visit regularly. It was a traditional family outing they would take: to visit the lagoon every spring when the flowers first bloomed and have a picnic there. She had made plans for this year's own visit before the horrible loss and would've used this very path to get there. The very same path this new beast had just crossed.

She quietly thanked Frith numerous times that Ages had the wisdom and kindness to warn her of this creature before he had left: what would've happened had she decided to take the trip a little early, only to end up crossing paths with this thing? Or perhaps it would've come by at a later time, or yet found them when they were at the lagoon, and she would've been helpless to protect her family (and herself) from becoming a meal for this horrid creature. She also thanked Frith to see that the footprints were heading in the opposite direction of the Lee of the Stone, leading deeper into the forest: there was also a clear path in the grass where it had gone, the stalks bent and broken from where it had pushed its way through.

Deciding it was foolish to stay on the path, she gave the large tunnel a wary stare as she tip-toed past it, giving it and the footprints a wide birth, before scurrying off into the brush. She pushed her way through the grass and hopped across the rough terrain in the direction of the Stone; it wasn't as easy to traverse as the path, but that way wasn't safe anymore.

As she continued home, she mentally debated what she should do: the news that a third Titan Beast had made its home in this very forest was earth-shaking, to say the least.

They had lived in the protection of the Stone for years, safe in its stretching shadow from all airborne predators and the weather. Its safety was the very reason Johnathan had moved them here in the first place, far from the troubles of Rosebush City and the dangers of the open wilds. To think that safety was now compromised by the first new Titan Beast since the birth of Dragon…of all the places in all of Nimh…

They may very well have to leave.

The very idea was heart-breaking, and she had to bite back a whimper when the idea crossed her mind. She loved this place: Johnathan had built it for them with his own two paws, pouring almost an entire year of his life giving it everything it needed for them and their children: it was safe, homely, and warm: everything a mouse could ask for. Food on the table, warm beds to sleep in, strong walls to protect them from the harsh world outside.

To leave it…to throw all that he had built away to flee back to the city they left in the first place…merely thinking about doing so felt like throwing away a piece of her very heart.

But what else could they do?

Sit and wait for the monster to find and kill them? If those footprints were anything to judge by, this new beast was more than strong enough to tear into her house to get to them. And if it was anything like Dragon, then they had to get away before it found them, or there would be nothing left of them, consumed in a predator's blind lust for blood.

It was too dangerous to stay.

The farm-mouse scurried across the fallen branch that laid across the old frog-pond, taking a shortcut across it. While the pond was now free from the thick layer of ice that covered it, a few stray pieces could be seen melting away at the edges of the water, slowly dripping down into the still-cold waters below. Not a single frog or toad that lived along its banks could be seen, still hibernating within the mud at the bottom, only just starting to awaken to the change in temperature.

With a running jump, she jumped from the edge of the branch over the last bit of distance across the pond; she ended up missing the shore just a tad, and she couldn't stop the squeak from escaping her lips as she landed in the water with a splash; it wasn't very deep, only coming up to her shins, but Frith Above was it cold.

She awkwardly stumbled out of the water and onto the banks, hoisting her now-soaked skirts up to her knees with one paw while holding her hidden envelope with the other. She kicked her hind legs vigorously, one foot at a time, to shake the icy water from them; she then gave a rapid shiver, her fur standing on end, as she tried to shake off the chill. She then rung her skirts of what she could squeeze out before dropping them and continuing on, now cold, wet, and even more miserable.

That was another problem with leaving; one that had nothing to do with and was far more concerning than mere sentimental value. The very reason she had come out in the first place: Timothy was too sick to move.

Three weeks. That's how long Mr. Ages said they had to keep Timmy in bed, and any attempt to shorten that time would make the pneumonia even worse: one breath of the dying winter's chill would kill him. That's what Ages had said. She couldn't move him out of the house, let alone make the journey to the city under such conditions. Even the trip to Dapplewood, the nearest rodentkin settlement, could take up to three days, depending on how often they stopped and rested. And the journey to Rosebush City would be far longer.

Besides, who would say they would be any safer there than they were here?

Rosebush City certainly would be: being an underground city built into the depths of a great mountain made it an natural fortress that stood against enemies and monsters alike. The walls of stone of the outer rock were covered with damage from when war had tried to tear it down, but it remained as strong and unmovable as always. As was the very nature of a mountain. Dapplewood, on the other hand, was an open forest community that built their homes in the roots of the trees. A Titan Beast could just as easily break through their walls and feast upon the helpless rodentkin who lived there as easily as it could tear into her home and feast on her and her family.

The more she tried to think it out, the more it began to seem like a truly hopeless situation. The only means to escape would result in Timmy being left behind, and that thought was banished from her mind before it even formed; she would sooner throw herself to the beast than even consider abandoning even one of her children.

She quietly slipped under the leaves of the bush and stepped out into the open forest floor as she made up her mind: The only way she could think of where they all made it out would be to brave out the three weeks of recovery, and then make a break for Dapplewood as soon as possible.

She debated this idea in her mind as she ran through the grass, only paying partial attention to her surroundings: the food stores they had stashed for the winter were almost gone, but there should be enough left to last for the three weeks. They might also be able to gather some roots and wild beets from the ground around the glade, or some of the berry buds from the bushes if it wasn't too early for that. It would have to do: they couldn't be outside for too long, let alone long enough to tend to the crops, and by no means was she letting any of them out of the Ston-

She had been so caught up in her internal struggle that she wasn't paying attention to her surroundings, and thus never heard the telltale noises before-hand.

However, when she rounded the base of the giant tree and the sight came into view, her focus immediately snapped to full attention and she skidded to a halt, eyes widening to the size of dinner-plates in terror.

It was a weasel, as large as a tiger and almost twice as long. The serpentine mammal had its back turned to her, its black-tipped tail swishing back and forth, as it greedily dug into the freshly-killed corpse of its prey: an unfortunate El-ahrian that had wondered too far from the Burrow Hills. The predator's own focus was purely on its meal, pushing one paw against the rabbit's side to noisily rip a strip of bloodied meat from the carcass; the weasel's snout and maw were soaked red with blood, as was the ground around the disemboweled rabbit. It noisily scarfed the mouthful down before plunging its head back into its meal, spilling the entrails of it across the dirt.

It was all Elizabeth could do to keep from throwing up at the sight, covering her snout with her paws in a futile attempt to keep the metallic stench out of her nose and mouth, as well as keep the scream from escaping her throat.

She had let her guard down. She had been lulled into such a strong sense of security by the unnatural silence and was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she had completely forgotten to watch out for all the other dangers of a mouse's very existence. Had she been paying attention she would've heard the predator, or smelled the kill, from a mile away.

But the weasel hadn't noticed her either, and she thanked Frith a dozen times for that. It was far too invested in gorging itself on El-ahrian flesh, the rabbit blood covering its snout masking her scent. Not taking her eyes off the danger in front of her, she took a very slow and very quiet step backwards, making as little to no noise as possible. The moss on the ground barely made a sound beneath her shaky paws as she continued to take silent steps backwards, slowing backing away back to the tree she had rounded. All the while the oblivious predator continued to eat.

The harsh snap of a breaking twig echoed in the distance; that prompted the weasel to pause, looking up in the direction of the noise with an alerted growl. Luckily, it was in the opposite direction Elizabeth was, and she took the opportunity to duck behind a root of the tree, flattening herself to the ground. The weasel glanced about, sharp golden eyes narrowed in suspicion, but when nothing ultimately came of the noise it returned back to its food, the viscera sound of tearing flesh filling the area once more.

The terrified mouse didn't dare take her eyes off the giant mustela until she was back behind the tree, completely hidden from its potential view. She pressed her back against it, shaking like a leaf as she tried to calm the frantic beating of her heart.

She tucked Timmy's medicine into the inside of her cloak, making sure it was secure in preparation to run. She squeezed her eyes shut, mentally counting down in silence…and then she hopped out from the behind the roots and turned to flee…

…only to come face to face with a second weasel, one with a darker brown coat and amber-orange eyes stepping out from the grass right in front of her.

The second weasel paused mid-step as she skidded to a horrified halt just inches away from its nose, clearly caught off guard by a mouse suddenly leaping out into its path. But said surprise quickly turned into outright-malicious anticipation as its lips curled into a wicked, tooth-baring grin: a free, tender morsel of mouse had just offered itself to it, and it wasn't going to pass up the chance for such an easy treat.

Elizabeth froze in fear as the grin split open into an open-mouth snarl, a sharp, almost-reptilian hiss rattling from behind its flesh-piercing teeth, as its long tongue licked at its fangs in preparation. Her heart was hammering inside her breast and her lungs heaved in her ribs: adrenaline kicked in like the strike of a lightning bolt, readying her body for the chase that was about to begin. One that began its own countdown as the weasel slowly crouched back for the kill…

…and in the exact instant the predator lunged, she bolted for it: the jaws of death snapped the space she had been occupying mere milliseconds before, just missing her tail.

All thoughts of self-presentation were abandoned the moment she took off running on all fours, looking to all the world like a feral mouse in clothing. She scurried through the undergrowth of the forest as fast as her paws could carry her, ignoring the twigs that tore at her cloak and dress, and the rocks that scraped and bruised her fingers and toes; the sound of snapping branches and angry snarls were right behind her as the weasel bounded after her, snapping and slashing through bushes and grass as it gave chase.

She didn't dare look back, lest she trip, her every fiber of being focused purely on escape. On survival.

She scrambled up the side of a large root in an attempt to evade her pursuer, tiny claws outright tearing at the bark as she climbed up it. The weasel leapt in an arching pounce to grab her, this time catching the hem of her cloak in its teeth. Elizabeth gave a choked cry of panic as the cloak pulled taught around her neck, causing her to choke as she hysterically clawed away; with just enough strength, the edge of the cloak tore free from the predator's jaws, the sudden release of tension throwing her up and over the edge of the root. She hit the ground on the other side running, stumbling as she used a paw to loosen the grip of her throat, taking a much-needed breath of air.

The weasel snarled in frustration as it fell back down on the other side, spitting the torn shreds of fabric from its mouth before climbing up after her.

Knowing she had only gained a few seconds of distance, Elizabeth fled deeper into the woods, bursting out of the undergrowth and out into a clearing beneath the trees. It was there she spotted it; a massive, age-worn log covered in moss and vines, stretched across the forest floor, and propped up upon a cresting hill like a giant slide. The mouth at the base of the hill looked like the looming maw of a great cave to the mouse, its insides hollowed out by age, mold, and insects, creating a natural tunnel of wood and moss, with the other end resting at the top of the hill.

Without a second thought she made a hard turn to the right, going straight for the log; the sharp turn cost her the distance she had gained, and the weasel was back at her heels soon enough, its flexible body especially built for making sudden turns. Another barking snarl made her glance back, only to see the first weasel had joined the case, its mouth still soaked red in rabbit's blood. The instinct to chase prey was not easily ignored, even when a kill had already been made.

Having two sets of teeth snapping at her heels only motivated her to run even faster, adrenaline coursing through her veins. But she didn't head towards the base entrance; instead, she ran along the side of it, leading her pursuers away from said entrance. The side of the log, especially around the base on the ground, was full of much smaller holes leading into its interior; eaten away by wood-burrowing grubs. And when she saw one that was just big enough for her, she took the chance and dove into it.

It was almost too small for her, forcing her to wriggle through, but that meant it was far too small for a weasel. She wriggled her hips free just as the weasel lunged at her, and she rolled out of danger just in time.

The mustela's face stretched against the edges of the hole that was too small for its skull to fit through. It snarled and snapped angrily at the frightened mouse just out of its reach, thrashing against the wooden frame that held it back from its prey, but didn't budge…at least, at first. The wet, moldy wood began to crack and chip away to the creature's struggle, the head beginning to squeeze through as it continued to claw and dig at the entrance, all the while savagely biting at the air with an outright-rabid ferocity.

Elizabeth didn't wait to see if it would hold. She scrambled to her feet and scurried up the log to the exit on the top of the hill. The moist, moss-covered floor of the log proved difficult to climb, and she ended up kicking a bunch of loose chunks of wood, as well as a few pillbugs and grubs, behind her as she ascended. The pillbugs in her path either crawled out of her way or curled up into a ball and got knocked aside, rolling down towards the weasels that were starting to break their way through.

This was her chance. If she could get out of the log before they got through, she could lose them. Get out of their sight and find a place to hide, then wait until they give up trying to find her scent again. Then she was home free.

When she reached the exit at the top of the hill, she didn't waste a single second: with a strong kick of her back legs, she leapt out of the log's mouth with all her might, eager to gain as much traction as she could.

Only to find her paws catching nothing but open air.

The heart-seizing realization came to her in an instant as she saw just how far the ground was below, time crawling to a standstill as her eyes widened and mouth fell open in pure panic.

This wasn't a hill the log was leaning against. It was a cliff.

And she had just jumped off of it.

For a split second, it was as if time itself had slowed to the pace of a snail's crawl as she reached the height of her jump. For a brief moment, she felt as though she was suspended in thin air, frozen between the sky and the earth…then time slowly resumed its original pace as gravity took its hold, and the seconds became a blur as she fell. A weak cry escaped the mouse's lips as she plummeted, clawing at the air in desperate instinct to break her fall. It was to no avail, of course, and she could only close her eyes and brace herself as the seconds counted down…one…two…three…

*CRASH!*

She hit the ground not with the thud of earth, but with a loud, rough clatter of something hard yet loose; her ribs screamed in pain as she hit what felt like a pile of stones, the wind was knocked from her lungs. She didn't even have time to register the first bout of agony before the next came as she tumbled forward; the ground was at a very sharp angle. The base of the cliff, leading down into the dried-out riverbed she had fallen into. Each blow only led to another as she rolled head over heels down the slope, kicking up a rain of gravel behind her. She slammed face-first into what felt like a large rock as she crashed against it on her way down, causing her vision to go white as pain exploded through her skull.

By Frith's mercy, the ground began to level out, and her tumble slowed until she came to a stop on level ground in the middle of the riverbed, upon the pile of loose rocks. Where she lay for what felt like an eternity, curled up into a bloody, bruised ball, her body in excruciating pain.

Every heaving sob for breath felt like red-hot hooks pulling at her lungs, coming in deep, croaking gasps, her ribcage feeling as if it were crushed in on itself. The palms of her hands and the underside of her wrists had been scrapped raw from the tumble, while blood trickled out from beneath her matted hair and from her bruised nose, mixing with the large tears that squeezed out from her clenched eyes and rolled down her face and whiskers. Her head swam with all the horrible sensations wracking her form, causing her mind to flicker in and out of consciousness.

She wanted nothing more in that one moment than to just pass out and be free of the pain. To just make it end, if only for a moment. But she knew she couldn't; amongst the hazy ringing in her ears, she could already hear the distant snarls of the two weasels, who were no doubt already on their way up the log.

So, in spite of her body's pleas for relief, she rolled over and struggled to lift herself, eyes still tightly scrunched shut in pain.

Her scraped palms burned in protest as she pushed herself up into an upright position against the pebble-covered earth. The smaller ones shifted under her weight, causing her body to give and ache with each sudden movement…and yet, even in her pain, she could feel something was off about these 'stones'. Their texture was wrong; they were jagged but not sharp. Smooth but not perfectly so.

A harsh, wet cough erupted from her throat, clearing her sinuses of the blood that had been blocking it…and it was then she smelled it: none other than the truly-revolting smell of dead flesh, both fresh and rotting, as well as the metallic odor of blood that was not her own. The very air around her was filled with it…as if-

A cold dread seized her chest, and with a bit of effort, she managed to open her watery eyes.

Only to find herself face to face with death.

She screamed in alarm, frantically scrambling away from the blooded skull of a feral rat, whose snout had been mere inches from her own. Empty eye sockets stared blankly into oblivion. Dried blood caked the entire thing in a layer of filthy red. And what remained of the stump trailed behind it in a bloody pile of entrails: whatever had separated the head from the body had not been clean about it. It laid there, flies buzzing around its rotting remains, surrounded by the remains of oth-

She looked down. At the 'stones' that she was currently sitting on, and her heart seized in absolute horror. They were not pebbles.

They were bones.

The bones of dozens of small animals. Rats, squirrels, moles, hedgehogs, small birds, and more, scattered about in a pile of the dead. No skeleton was complete; the most intact were little more than skulls and limbless torsos (some of which missing half of said torso). They had been picked clean of most flesh but were still stained red with blood, along with the few scraps of meat that lingered that lingered; some of it rotting from time, while others were still fresh. She looked down at her trembling paws, her palms coated with blood that she now knew was not hers. Her jaw quivered as the urge to scream, or throw up, or even both built within her.

Then she made the mistake of looking up. To what was, without question, the absolute most horrifying thing Elizabeth had ever seen in her entire life.

A Mass Grave. That was the only thing it could be described as; an image straight out of the depths of the underworld itself. Hundreds of corpses, both freshly-killed bodies and picked-clean skeletons, from all form of animal filled out entire acres of the bloody riverbed.

There were bodies of animals as large as fully-grown deer, wild boar, and even a small bear, their torsos hollowed out and emptied of their entrails, while their limbs were stripped of meat with truly-gigantic bitemarks in the bones. The remains of medium-sized animals, like foxes, racoons, rabbits, larger birds, and wild goats looked as if they had been torn in half and messily devoured in single bites, the severed remains, their heads, limbs, and tails, were scattered about when the jaws had bitten down in the middle. The only thing that could be found left over of the smaller animals were the heads and smaller bits that had been bitten off when they had been devoured whole. Entire clouds of files, from normal sized ones to the grape-sized Nimh variety, filled the air in a buzzing cacophony of rot, eager to feast on the leftovers. And the ground, once dry from the winter's frost, was soaked a deep red with blood, tricking across the stones like water and forming large pools.

The mouse couldn't move a single muscle, even as her instincts screamed at her too; she was utterly petrified with sheer horror, her muscles seizing into stone and her blood turning to ice in her veins. All she could do was tremble like a leaf in a hurricane, her wide eyes dilating with primal fear and her heart beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst.

This was the reason the forest was as silent as death, for that was exactly what had taken it. This was why all the animals had fled the forest…those that were still alive, that is. For all the animals who hadn't had been killed. Slaughtered by the hundreds.

Hunted down in mass and devoured by the jaws of Nimh's new Titan Beast.

Chunks of dirt clattered down from above, snapping her back to her current reality: she looked up to see the weasels had already begun their own descent down the cliff face. Unlike her, they hadn't jumped blindly into the abyss and instead were taking the slower but safer path of climbing down, their long, flexible bodies far more suited to traversing such treacherous terrain.

With a frightened and outright desperate sob, Elizabeth tried to get up and start running again, but no sooner did she try did her left leg explode in pain, causing her to cry out and fall back to the ground, with a clatter of bones. As the angry snarls grew ever closer, she looked down with tear-filled eyes; her left ankle was heavily swollen, the redden skin of said swelling visible through her fur.

'No! Please Frith, no!' She quietly begged as she tried to crawl away, desperation gripping her heart.

But it was too late; when it had gotten down far enough, the second weasel (the one without blood on its mouth) took a mighty leap from the cliff base and soared through the air. Elizabeth barely had time to roll over when a massive paw slammed into her chest and pinned her back to the dirt, the weight of her captor causing them to skid through the bones with a clatter. She squirmed and squealed wildly, but the grip on her body was as strong as the claws were sharp.

Then it leaned in, jaws opening to take the first bite.

"NO!"

In all surprise the weasel did pause at her cry, though it looked more amused than anything else, tail swishing back and forth as it kept her pinned.

"Hmmm…Mousey morsel begs?" Its voice was cruel and hissing, almost nasally, matching the cruel glare of its eyes. "Wishes to live, mousey does?"

Elizabeth nodded frantically, fresh tears rolling down her face. "Please! I beg you! Let me go!" She sobbed. "I have four furlings at home, and one is very sick! Please, I'm all they have left in the world!"

To that, however, the weasel openly laughed, unmoved by her pleas, before looking down at her with a truly malicious grin. "…Mousey morsel now…furling feast for desert later."

The mouse's eyes widened in terror, and her struggles became frantic. "Why?!" She cried desperately. "Look around! You have all the meat you could eat here!" She pointed to the first weasel (the one who had been eating the rabbit), who was already helping itself to the leftovers of a dead sparrow.

"Dead Flesh old and taste bitter. Eat later." It scoffed, as if it was obvious. It lowered its head closer, golden eyes gleaming with evil anticipation as the hungry jaws opened again. Drool dripped down its long fangs and onto her terrified face, the sharp teeth glinting in the sunlight. "Mousey fresh and sweet, and chase made one hungry. Eat now, while still so."

"No…NO! PLEASE, NO!" Elizabeth cried in horror, mouth agape and quivering while tears dripped from her cheek-fur.

This was it. All these years she had struggled to survive, and then to protect her family, all about to end. As she stared into the approaching jaws of death, the most impactful moments of her life flashed before her eyes. Her life as a feral, meeting Johnathan for the first time, their wedding in Rosebush City, building their home the Lee of the Stone, and her wonderful children. Then she imagined them, waiting for her to come home that very night, only for her never to return. She imagined them growing up orphans, losing both their parents to the cruel world, Frith knows what kind of lives awaited them…except for Timothy, who would never get his medicine now; he would die soon as well, and only as a child, and it was all her fault.

She squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself, wanting nothing more in that instant to see her furlings one last time. 'Teresa, Martin, Cynthia, Timothy, Johnathan! I'm so sorry!'

Then everything went dark…when the very sun itself disappeared behind a wall of purple and gold.

*C-C-CRUNCH!*

The sickening sound of massive jaws clamping onto small prey filled the chasm, but Mrs. Brisby felt nothing. The weasel's eyes bulged from their sockets as a massive pair of jaws as large as it was clamped down around its torso with enough strength and force to completely shatter its rib-cage. Teeth the size of swords penetrated deep, blood splattering across lips covered in scales, as well as burst from the mustela's mouth as it spat up its crushed insides.

This all happened in an instant, which was followed by a thunderous crash that shook the very earth as if the planet had been struck by a meteor. The weight of the paw pinning her chest disappeared and she was sent tumbling away, rolling head over heels. She heard the once fearsome predator shriek for its dying life, thrashing wildly as it was lifted clean off the ground and into the air. Head spinning from the tumble and terror of facing death, she woozily opened her eyes, half-expecting to wake up in Frith's Realm, greeted by her beloved husband.

What she saw instead questioned if Frith even existed at all, the fear of the weasel was quickly forgotten entirely, and she clutched the sides of her face as she stared up in pure, unadulterated terror.

The ancient and primal terror that could only be awakened in mortal hearts by none other than the mightiest creature in all of creation.

A powerful beast larger than any creature she had ever seen before. An armored hide of scales stronger than even the most durable of steel, and a more beautiful purple than the purest of amethysts. Enormous crimson wings that filled the sky behind its shoulders. A seemingly-endless tail as long as a river and lined with deadly sword-like spines. Mighty horns and spines that adorned its head like the crown of the true king of all beasts. Teeth that were like swords. Claws that were like spears. And eyes that burned with the internal flame that would destroy all its breath blew upon.

This was no mere Titan Beast. This was something far more powerful. A monster whose very presence would be the doom of all Rodentkin, and the first of its kind Nimh had seen in thousands of years.

This was a Dragon.