#borrowers

He knew the rules insisted that borrowers were supposed to stay hidden, but times had changed! Tradition just wasn't working as well as it used to, and if the others would just admit that, they could have the chance to revolutionize their way of life! But to Grace's dismay, it turns out suggesting they reveal themselves to humans and openly collaborate was enough to get kicked out… and insulting the leaders probably didn't help.

He hadn't really been kicked out; there was truly only so far one could go when your entire colony existed on a human-built space station floating in the endless void of space. Sure, humans were dangerous - but also the only reason any of them were alive. The borrowers weren't stupid; they had plenty of opportunities to overhear the humans speaking - even communicating with other ships that existed out there. They had long since learned the truth - some cataclysmic event had wiped every star and planet from existence, leaving only a handful of space stations - their current station, dubbed Eden by the human inhabitants, was the only reason Grace and the others were still alive.

Grace was a young borrower, out on his own when the station had been built. Grace's childhood home had been occupied by an elderly man who worked as a professor of Astronomy at the local university. Growing up, Grace would always sneak into his office when his parents were out borrowing - scouring through notes and drawings of the stars that lay beyond. Later in his teen years, he had made the not-so-wise decision to sneak into the professor's bag - wanting to get a glimpse of the lesson and absorb all he could about the cosmos. He had received a vicious scolding from his parents and brother once they found out, and was made to promise that he would never do that again.

But that didn't stop him from continuing his excursions into the office, absorbing every piece of information that he could get his hands on.

So when the time came that he was ready to leave the nest, and the humans just so happened to be launching a newly built space station? He leaped at the opportunity. Turns out he hadn't been the only borrower with the same idea, though more were inclined by the idea of having a limited number of humans around. Despite the motivations, a whole colony had moved onto the space station and had been living here for just about two decades.

None of them had realized at the time that the decision to do so would be the only reason they were still alive….

For all they knew, they could be the last borrowers in existence…

It had been a few months since Grace's outburst, and he'd since moved to a remote section of the ship. It would have been safer to remain near the colony, but Grace just couldn't bring himself to do it. He may struggle with social cues, but it was obvious even to him that nobody in the colony wanted to associate with him. That much was pretty clear even before he went and blew up his reputation. The snide whispers of his fellow borrowers, the fleeting glares as he passed by- he couldn't help but internalize the loathing. Being around others just left him feeling dejected and like he was the staggering waste of carbon. So he finally relented, moving to a section of the station that few others dared go near - where the Butcher of Eden did his dirty work.

Many colony members had seen how the man dispatched the bodies of his own kind, chucking them into a bin of dirt to fertilize the tree they all seemed to worship. Not even mice that scurried throughout the station were spared from his wrath. Since moving, Grace had seen for himself how the man would swiftly behead any mice unfortunate enough to get caught in the traps left scattered about. Those that did not die before being retrieved met a quick death at the end of the butcher's blade. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Grace did NOT like the idea of living so close to such a beast, but as long as he stayed hidden, it wouldn't be an issue.

Grace knew the dangers of living near the man who was feared by both humans and borrowers alike. He knew he was a fool for seeking shelter here. His instincts screamed at him constantly, leaving him with an itchy feeling all over as his primal brain begged him to return to the safety of the colony, away from the predator's lair. But that part of him was swiftly silenced whenever he thought back to the rejection he had faced within the colony. Besides, what better punishment for a borrower that insisted on working with humans, than to be forced to live alongside the cruelest human of them all.

Staying hidden truly was all he could do now.

So here he was, a borrower alone, trying to scrounge together a half-decent nest under the steel-plated floors of the most dangerous human on the ship. He was fortunate enough to find a space under the floors that was hollow and spacious enough to build a half-decent base. His set-up was not one to be envied. The few blankets he had managed to bring with him during the move lay tossed into the corner. They hardly made a suitable bed, but at least managed to stave off the cold a bit. Grace had tried to find more fabric scraps to add to his collection, but the opportunity rarely presented itself. Aside from his sad excuse for a nest, his borrowed supplies lay strown wall nearest his exit. Apart from that, the room was empty. He barely had the supplies to build a nest, never mind get any furniture or decorations.

Maybe I could snatch some of the mice bones that get tossed, add a little decor to the place… he thought sarcastically.

Actually, speaking of mice….. living close to the butcher did come with one advantage - the smells of the composting bodies seemed to lure mice to his workshop. And unfortunatley for the mice, they were quickly dispatched and thrown into the pile of compost themselves - a grim fate indeed.d. But the mice's misfortune granted Grace a rare opportunity. Since they were so small, Grace had seen how the borrower just tossed them into the bin, barely burying them as he did with the larger body parts.

His time around the butcher had forced Grace to adapt as he learned to discern the little lumps on the soil that hid the mice.

It wasn't a pleasant thought, nor was Grace thrilled with the idea of feeding off of dead mice, but he had learned how to make do with what opportunities were presented to him. The other option was to roll over and die of starvation. And despite his sorry state of living, he was still scared to die.

So if he had to choke down some mouse meat to avoid starvation, he would do it.

Grace decided now was as good a time as any to make the trip to retrieve a mouse. That should last him a week or so; two if he rationed it. He grimaced at the thought of choking down more of the dry, tasteless meat, but pushed through for the sake of survival. He grabbed his tools and set out towards the exit.

Grace traversed through the walls, the hair on his back prickling with nerves as she flinched at every minor sound that journeyed through the walls. No matter how many times he had done this trip, the anxiety never ceased.

I need to calm down, he thought to himself; it's late - the human always returns to his sleeping quarters by this time. I just need to get in, get a mouse, and get out! Then I can lock myself in my home for the next couple of weeks and be a sad sack. Okay, that was enough of listening to his own thoughts for now.

Grace made it to his hidden entrance, a small plating of walla that he was able to push loose. It opened up into a concealed spot - a thin nook, just barely wide enough for him to stretch his arms, that lay nestled between the wall and counter. He made his way out of the walls, and immediately froze where he stood. There, just a foot away from his opening lay a mousetrap - primed and ready to clasp over its unsuspecting victims. The trap took up the entire width of the corridor, blocking Grace from going further.

Gosh darn it! Of course this stupid brute has to go and block my ONE entrance into his workshop.

He marched up to the trap, kicking the edge as he released his frustrations. Fine! This was Fine! He was smart, definitely smarter than the mice these traps were designed for. He just had to tread carefully.

Grace tucked his tail against his back, keeping tabs on its position as he carefully stepped onto the wooden platform - careful to avoid the range of the metal clasp. When nothing happened, he let out a breath of relief and gingerly shuffled along the side - back pressed to the wall as he shimmed his way past the metal bits before hopping off the other side. He clapped with pride from his success, immediately regretting the action as he instinctually paused to ensure no humans had heard that. He seemed to be in the clear, as he didn't hear any movements from the room.

He made his way to the edge of the counter, ready to make. the quick sprint and climb up to the compost bin to complete his task. As he stepped out into the light, movement on the far side of the room caught his eye.

There, standing at his full height in the center of the room was The Butcher. Grace watched as he methodically sharpened the knife in his hand, holding it up to the light to inspect the glint.

Grace quickly stepped back, concealing himself in shadows once more.

Crap! Why is he here!? He was supposed to have left hours ago! Fudge nuggets, I need to get out of here!

His thoughts were interrupted as he saw teh human begin to turn in his direction. He needed to go now.

He rushed through the small corridor, panic fueling him as he careened back towards his opening. He caught sight of the mousetraps once more and made the split-second decision to leap over it, ensuring he would waste no time. Unfortunately, despite his namesake, he was anything but graceful. As he leaped into the air, his foot caught against the edge of the trap - disrupting his trajectory and sending him tumbling onto the platform. He landed stomach down on the cool wood. Before he could even process what had happened, a searing white pain shot through his leg as the metal bar slammed down with a relentless force.

The pain was unbearable.

A scream died in his throat, coming out as an unholy amalgamation of a choked cry and a high-pitched whimper. His hand shot to his mouth, desperate to muffle those pathetic sobs that welled up from his throat. He prayed he had not been heard - the pain was unbearable, but he'd rather die a slow death from blood loss or starvation than meet a cruel fate at the hands of the butcher. His hand traveled up to his face. He bit down on the flesh between his thumb and index finger with enough force to draw blood - the metallic taste flooding his mouth as he desperately tried to stifle his whimpers - nearly gagging himself with the force with which he bit down.

Through the pain fogging his mind, he heard the thundering rattle of metal sheets as footsteps approached his position. Oh god, it's over for me.

The fur along the back of his neck prickled as he sensed a large presence moving towards him. An involuntary whimper escaped him as he felt the trap being pulled backwards, into the light, toward his death. No longer concerned with his silence, he released his hand from his grasp, claws scraping at the wood as he desperately tried to pull himself free. His breath became erratic. The fur on his back raised, sending shivers through his body as his instinct screamed at him to never have his back to a predator. As light flooded over him, his instincts won out over his desire to not look his death in the eyes. Propping himself up on his arms as he struggled to glance over his shoulder and get eyes on the threat and oh-

oh.

How we wished in that moment that he had just blindly accepted his death.

The Butcher kneedled over him, enshrouded in shadows as he blocked the light emanating from behind him. The human towered over him, eyes uncaring as his Grace was pulled fully into the light - his only sense of coverage being the shadow of the being that would be his demise. His breath grew erratic, as his eyes caught sight of the massive butcher's knife that glinted in the light, held primed and ready to swing down on the Butcher's soon-to-be victim. A broken sob tore from his throat at the sight, all higher brain functions making way for animalistic instincts as fear overtook his body. His struggles renewed, nerves be damned as he turned his back to the predator once more, scrambling for purchase against the grain. His instincts screamed at him to get away.

His breaths came out jagged and broken, growing more erratic as his nails started to bleed from the scratching of the grain.

He felt no different than a pitiful mouse in that moment.