One old rat, Codger Squeak, said he’d been grozzified way back in his youth. Fortunately for him, the clouds had parted just as a Grozzy was coming to pick him up and the moonbeam which fell on him saved him. No Grozzy will stay above the ground when it’s light, even moonlight, and they’d scuttled back into the mines hissing and yammering in a most unpleasant way said Codger.
     He’d been found by his dad next morning, still grozzified and unable to move. And so he’d remained for days till the wise Dorwoman, who lived over the border in Domusland, had been brought in to look at him. She knew a thing or two, did old Widow Dor and her herbal dressing had brought Codger to his senses again.
     He’d tried to tell his dad what had happened. He didn’t believe him and went so far as to order him never to speak about it again. Nevertheless, Codger stuck to his story. He knew what had happened and he wasn’t going to change his story for anyone ... not after he grew up, anyhow. And the older he got, the more he elaborated his tale. He could hold younger rats spellbound for hours telling of how he’d been grozzified at their age and what it felt like.
     The older rats claimed they didn’t believe him. It was highly significant, though, that none of them would go out at night without a well-lit lantern. On very dark nights they didn’t go out at all, but kept the darkness well outside behind locked doors.
     Despite Codger Squeak’s story and other tales which sprang up, Nero Squinks remained unmoved. As I said, he’d little imagination when it came to believing in things like Grozzies, though he’d once imagined his voice supreme.