[When Carver picks up one of the pelts, a small white rat tumbles out, squeaking shrilly in protest, and immediately burrows into the pile and out of sight, though the fur twitches with the movement. ...That wasn't one of the local rats, was it? Too clean and whole-looking.
A thready, soundless, angry young voice that doesn't seem to have a source or come from any particular direction rises.]
<Hey! Watch it, that one's mine! I can't believe you people!>
i
A thready, soundless, angry young voice that doesn't seem to have a source or come from any particular direction rises.]
<Hey! Watch it, that one's mine! I can't believe you people!>