Fr. 25.50

Mouseheart

English · Hardback

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Zusatztext "A tiny! new hero has arrived! [A] Braveheart -style epic adventure...The story also emphasizes love and loyalty! and provides clear examples of mercy and restraint." Informationen zum Autor Lisa Fiedler is the author of many novels for children and young adults. She divides her time between Connecticut and the Rhode Island seashore, where she lives happily with her very patient husband, her brilliant and beloved daughter, and their two incredibly spoiled golden retrievers.Vivienne To has illustrated several books, including The Underland Chronicles by Suzanne Collins and the Randi Rhodes, Ninja Detective series by Octavia Spencer. As a child, she had two pet mice escape. She currently lives in Sydney, Australia, with her partner and her ginger cat. Visit her at VivienneTo.com. Klappentext The first book in an epic animal adventure series. Hopper is just an ordinary pet shop mouse before he escapes. He soon finds himself deep within Brooklyn's subway tunnels and in Atlantia, a glorious utopian rat civilization. But all is not what it seems. Illustrations.Mouseheart chapter one THE CAGE LID CLOSED with a hollow clang. It was followed by the metallic zip of the lock sliding into place. Hopper pressed his soft muzzle to the bars. The shopkeeper had just filled their bowl with a meal of pellets and lined the cage with a fresh sprinkle of aspen shavings and a handful of shredded paper; now the space was clean and almost cozy. Hopper listened as his brother, Pup, burrowed happily into the crisp, new wood curls. Pinkie, their sister, found no such comfort as she clawed at the shiny metal clasp that held the cage lid in place. Pinkie clawed whenever she could. Pinkie was like that. “Closing time,” Keep muttered, humming off-key as he went about his chores. Hopper watched sleepily as beyond the big window, Brooklyn had begun to fade into twilight and shadows. The other mice who shared their cage were already piled into a white-and-brown heap in the corner. Young, and new to the shop, they tired easily. In seconds Hopper could hear the gentle snuffles and sighs of their collective slumber. Keep’s gravelly voice rumbled from the back of the shop. “Birds . . . check. Felines . . . check. Reptiles and amphibians . . . check, check.” This was Keep’s end-of-the-day litany—checks and reminders and grumbled complaints about ill-smelling feed and dirty cage bottoms. Hopper knew the routine by heart, but he took little joy in the familiarity of it. He hated the darkling hours. Their mother had disappeared at dusk. Now Keep returned to the mouse cage. He gave the clasp a tug to see that it was secure. “Rodents . . . check.” Lucky for Keep, he pulled his chubby thumb away just before Pinkie could sink her teeth into it. And that was the last of it. Hopper knew all that remained was for Keep to turn the sign from OPEN to CLOSED. This would inform the patrons on the other side of the big window that there would be no more adoptions today; it was time for the animals to rest. Keep would take his leave, sweeping a chill blast of air into the shop as he opened the door. The bell on the handle would jangle fitfully as the door swung wide; then it would close with a loud, metallic clack as Keep locked it with his key. After that, the shop would fall silent but for the bubbling of the aquariums and the sleepy chirping sounds of animals dreaming of a far-off future in a place called home. But not Hopper. He only ever dreamed one dream. And it was not so much a dream but a memory of his mother on the last day he had ever seen her. It was vague and hazy, but buried deep inside it was the

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