"Emiline raced across the hallway to the bottom of the grand stairwell. Her silver mousecatcher’s armour clattered noisily – it was way too big for a twelve-year-old girl, and she clutched it firmly to stop it falling around her ankles.

Sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, quietly preening itself in a beam of light, was the fearsome Sharpclaw: the very same exotic and supremely expensive mouse that escaped from the mousery only hours earlier. The power of its gigantic razor-sharp claws had surprised everyone.

Sharpclaws were sneaky and mischievous little devils, but despite being only the size of a hand, absolutely nothing could be left to chance. Emiline’s armour covered everything from her shoulders to the tips of her toes, and a pointed helmet covered her face to the bottom of her nose. The only recognisable feature that remained was Emiline’s blonde hair, which crept out onto her shoulders and curled slightly at the end."