"Here they come," said the Wabbit. "I feel like we've done this before," said Skratch the Cat. Wabsworth waved a pocket knife. "What we did once, we can very well do again." Lapinette paused. She took an edged weapon from her frock and ran a paw along the blade. "What did we do again?" she murmured. "Trick our enemies," said the Wabbit. "It would be silly not to," said Skratch. The Nocturnal High Garrison seemed to fly from behind the earth and trailed a swirling dark mist. "Tribulation coming," said Wabsworth. "Tribulation is worse at night," sighed the Wabbit. Lapinette nodded. "How long is night on the moon?" "Two weeks," answered Wabsworth. "Starting when?" said Skratch. "Starting now," said Wabsworth. The Garrison appeared closer. Scythes slashed through whatever atmosphere there was. Galloping clattered on the surface is if at a racetrack. Then the voices came. First they were whispers, then shouts, then finally laughter as they called to each other. "Conquest!" shouted the first. "Power," yelled the second. "Hunger," shouted the third. But the last hung back and raised a mighty sword. "Death to the Wabbit and his kind!" he moaned. The Wabbit's 28 teeth glinted earthlight across the craters. "That sounds like hard work to me," snarled the Wabbit ...
