Swamped

"You make a sound like a rat."

"What."

"They eat regular-sized rats. So you just need to make it sound like one's around, and they'll come out to look. Stand back while I make the noise, and get ready to hit it. Going to have to take my mask off for a second, so if someone could keep on me, that'd be great."

You detach your mask and cup your hand around your mouth when you realize that this was a two-handed move.

"Um. This is a little awkward. Can I borrow someone else's hand for a moment?"

Stacey stands behind you, and holds her hand on the other side. Unfortunately, it seems this is enough difference to make the rat noise sound more like a low growl.

"Well, that's out," Eighth grumbles, as you put your mask back. "Guess we check under the bed."

"Couldn't we pull it on its side, away from the wall?" Mark asks. "It'd take two of us, but we wouldn't have to get as close, at least if it's trying to hide."

"Risky, but probably better," Eighth agrees. "Juliet, you take the head, I'll take the foot."

They pull the bed on its side, but a quick glance behind it reveals no greatrat. There is, however, an ordinary swamprat scurrying around, which Tom Ninth promptly grabs in a pouch.

"Guess we've got some bait after all," he says. "Other than the, um, puddle, though, there's no sign of a greatrat in here. Must have just come in to relieve itself."

"Could've been chasing the little one," Juliet says. "Then something scared it off, and it pissed itself before running."

"Ugh, however it got there, that's going to smell for weeks," Eighth sighs. "Suppose it could be worse, though. So, whose room are we checking next?"