It was too good an idea to waste. So, welcome to the very first all-gnawer panel! (Unless you count the human moderators.) Here, the breaking points of six gnawers and the sanity of two humans will be tested by a single conversation in a locked room.

But only starting next chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Underland Chronicles. I own only my demented ideas and my brain. And my voiced-which, even for not being real, have some pretty darn decent ideas.

.x.o.O.o.x.

So the other day my friend and I were at school, and she told me it would be funny if we put Twirltounge, Pearlpelt, Snare, Ripred, Goldshard, and Twitchtip in a room together and forced them to hold a conversation.

“But how is it funny if we don’t know what’s going on?” I asked.

She glanced at me with a half-sly, half-fearful glance, and I groaned. “Who the heck are we going to get to go in there?”

We ran through a list, asking everyone at school we could, but everyone we asked grabbed at their sanity and held on tight.

“What!? You’re crazy!”

True.

“Um… who’re they?”

We explained TUC, and the person scuttled away fearfully.

“Right. Yeah. I’m really going to willingly put myself in a room with a bunch of six-foot rats who want to rip one another’s guts out.”

I tried to explain that only some of the rats were on such bloody terms, but that particular vict-er, person had already gone to their next class.

So, out of students to ask, I relinquished the ounce-

--that same friend shouts from the audience, “Drop. Millimeter. Not even that!”--

-Fine. Out of students to ask, I relinquished the millimeter or less of sanity that I had left and volunteered to be the moderator.

Of course, on the way to the Underland, I grabbed Gregor. I’m not going in there without backup, folks! I still hold a tiny piece of sanity…

(I think…)

Anyway. Stay tuned for the tortu-I mean, fun, and feel free to tell me question you want answered. As the moderator, I have the power to steer the conversation.

Or at least I should. But when things get rough with all the gnawers—I’m either leaving, hiding behind Gregor, or hitting the sugar.

I warned you.