Basil hissed at her. The Blacktail brothers had Kit pressed up against the wall at the point of a fork, and two more Rabid Rascals, strays from the Scavengers’ Market, held Martyn at bay with teeth bared. “You shouldn’t have welshed on our bet,” Shane Blacktail told Kit. “And you shouldn’t have tricked us into that tire.” “It was a terrible way to treat your cousins,” Flynn added. “And an even worse way to treat the Rascals. We have a reputation to uphold.” “A reputation as cheats and thieves and bullies,” Martyn scolded. “You should all be ashamed, robbing from your own kind when the Flealess threaten us all!” “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Shane grunted. “We’ve heard your moralizing before, mouse. Keep your mouse trap shut or we’ll smash it in a mousetrap!” “Good one!” Flynn gave his brother a high five. “Now, we’re taking you to the boss, and we’ll see if we can’t make an example of you, your friend, and your lousy, no-good liar of an uncle.”
