#ratdeath

The forests of Mossflower stirred gently as the moon sank into the horizon. Browns, reds, and yellows had just begun to speckle the vast expanse of green, contrasted by the unseasonable warmth. Golden mists swirled around the flowers of the field, and the grass drank in the first rays of the sun.

Above it all stood the fortress, a warning to vermin. If a passing creature could see its stone walls reaching into the sky, they knew they were too close. And Avery had been too close all her life. Long ago, she’d wondered if there truly was a world outside those cold walls. Of course, that was before the old warlord died and a new one took his place. Since then, the slaves had been taken out to the quarry daily to expand the fortress. Expansion would lead to more slaves and more patrols. For Avery, it meant more grumbling.

Last night, she had fought Sawlur, a fellow slave, after he’d pushed her into a puddle of rainwater. It had been cold, and Avery hated the cold. Maybe she had overreacted, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t cared for quite some time now. So really, it was no surprise that she now found herself hauled out of bed by two squirrels dressed in black-and-brown guard uniforms, first thing in the morning.

One of them said something to the effect of, “Get up, you’re to see the warlord.”

Garox looked up at her, bleary-eyed. “Uh-oh, now ye’ve done it,” he mumbled to his friend.

Avery rolled her eyes at him before being dragged to Warlord Thurso’s chambers. As the squirrels led her through the stone corridors, she struggled and kicked the guards’ shins whenever she got the chance.

The guards pushed open a heavy oaken door, pulled Avery into the room, dumped the fierce rat unceremoniously onto the floor, and hastily exited the chambers, making sure to keep their shins a safe distance away from her. Paws behind her back, Avery turned to look at the beast who had summoned her.

Warlord Thurso was big, but he was a badger so of course he was. The legs of the wooden chair he sat upon strained under his weight. He clasped his massive paws together, forearms resting on his knees. By the size of his arms and legs, Avery figured he could toss the fortress itself a good few yards. That was probably how badgers played catch. “Look out, Jim! Here comes Marshank,” they’d say.

“I heard about last night,” said the badger. “Honestly, Avery, can you go more than one day without assaulting somebeast?” His voice sounded like a seagull choking on gravel.

Avery shrugged. “I’d probably be a lot more peaceful if I wasn’t a slave.”

“You’re direct, and I appreciate that,” he replied with the barest hint of a chuckle, “but you know we can’t have slaves—”

“You can’t have slaves?”

“—can’t have you arguing and getting into squabbles.” There was a loud creak as Thurso shifted in his chair. “It slows down the whole process. And when that happens, Avery, you aren’t the only one who suffers. Your friends feel the consequences too. You’ll all be worked harder, or perhaps you’ll be fed less. Whatever your punishment, whatever their punishment, it will all be your own doing.” His fierce, dark eyes bore into Avery’s.

“I hear you,” she said, glancing at the greatsword displayed on the far wall behind Thurso, “and I’ll be honest, the only thing I got out of that was you saying the word ‘squabbles.’”

Thurso growled and pinched the bridge of his nose with his paw. “Avery, I swear to Martin, if you don’t shut up and listen to me, I’m going to throw you in the dungeon.”

“Your new name is Squabbles.”

Thurso sighed and rose to his feet. “All right, dungeon it is.” He opened his mouth to call the guards, but Avery interrupted him before he could start.

“You know, you’re different than the old warlord,” she said. Thurso paused and looked at her curiously until she continued. “More talky, less cruel. I’d really like to know how you took his place. You show up out of nowhere, and in three months he’s dead, and you’re in charge.” Avery stared at him, her expression neutral. “Even you should know, vermin know treachery when they see it.”

Thurso blinked slowly, thoughtfully. Eventually, he sat back down and quietly asked, “What exactly do you know?”

Avery shrugged, looking at the greatsword with disinterest. “A few things. I know you’re a better leader than Terris. You’re expanding the reach of the fortress, fortifying what power you already have. Pretty sure Terris never even thought about doing that.” She took a breath and inched closer. “But he did pay better attention to his guards.”

Thurso furrowed his brow. “You implying I’ve missed something?”

“Yeah, when they bound my paws, they forgot to use rope.”

Immediately, she was upon him, clawing and scratching at his face, his throat, anything she could reach. She managed to leave a jagged cut along one side of his forehead before he threw her onto the floor. She tried to rise, but he kicked her side and left her gasping. Before she could catch her breath, he had called the guards in, and it was over.

Raindrops pitter-patttered on the leaky roof of their only shelter. Avery sat cross-legged on the floor, away from the beds as she stared up at the wall of Fort Fallunite through the open doorway. She was a powerfully built rat, with a strong back and wide shoulders. She was dressed head-to-footpaw in ragged clothing that was much too large for her frame. A drop of water fell from the ceiling onto her left ear, which twitched in response, but she ignored it.

She heard footsteps, followed by a hushed voice: “I’m not mad at ye.”

Avery furrowed her brow. “What? Oh. That’s good.”

The other beast chuckled. “Heh, distracted as ever,” he said. “So yer not stayin’ up late ‘cos yer feelin’ guilty, then.”

Avery shook her head. “No. Should I be?”

“Not at all. Though an apology wouldn’t go amiss,” he said, nudging her ribs with his elbow. He raised his voice to a comically high pitch in an exaggerated imitation of Avery. “’Oh, Garox, I’m sorry I nearly let ye drown to go fight a weasel what pushed me in the water.’ Somethin’ like that. Not that ye owe me one, but ye owe me one.”

Avery didn’t respond, her eyes unmoving.

Garox sighed. “Avery, Mousie, if ye don’t want beasts callin’ ye mad, y’can’t keep starin’ at nothing in silence fer—what’s it been, a hundred seasons now?”

Avery tore her gaze away from the walltop to smirk at her friend. Garox was an exceptionally intimidating weasel, but he was clumsier than a June bug. He and Avery had been friends since they were born, both raised in the fort as slaves. “Two hundred seasons, actually,” she replied playfully, “but it’s not nothing. Look, there’s a mouse on the wall. I’m trying to figure out what he’s doing up there.”

Garox shifted to get a better view. He squinted his eyes. “What mouse?”

She pointed at the northwest corner of the fort, where the two walls converged. “Right there, see him? He’s just standing there.”

Garox shook his head, one paw on the doorframe. “Nope, no mouse.”

“Well you’d see him if he just moved a little bit, that’s how I found him. He walked a few paces that way.”

“Aye, an’ then he flew away into the night sky.”

She punched his arm. “Shut up. He’s right there.”

Garox stared at the walltops for a few moments before he rubbed a paw over his face and gave up, leaning back on his paws. “There’s nobeast there, Mousie. Yer starin’ at shadows and dreamin’ up the rest. This is what happens when ye stay up so late.”

Avery huffed. “I’m not even tired. You’re just growing old and blind.”

Garox put a paw to his heart indignantly, causing Avery to chuckle. “The utter disrespect! I’ll have ye know I’ve seen not a winter more than ye, an’ I can still fight with the best of ‘em.”

“Yet y’can’t swim with the worst of ‘em,” Avery said with a mischievous look.

Garox snorted and dropped backward onto the floor. “Och, that hurts. Ye’ve wounded me. I hope yer happy.”

Avery stifled a laugh that surely would have woken up the others. “Will you ever recover?”

“’Fraid not,” said Garox, covering his eyes with a forearm. “I’m done for. Ye’ll ‘ave t’carry me everywhere now.”

Avery lay back on the floor beside him, grinning. “It’s an early grave for both of us, then.”

A stern voice from the slaves’ beds interrupted their banter. “It surely will be if you two don’t shut up an’ go to sleep.”

“Aye, Leviel, we’re done now,” Garox called back. He turned his head to Avery. “Carry me.”

Avery laughed and walked back to her bunk.

“They’re evil, Shad,” said Arum, plucking a blade of grass from her spikes. “They’d kill you without a second thought.”

The otter she was speaking to shook his head, spraying the water in his fur everywhere. “Still doesn’t seem right, matey. Why the dead of night, in the rain? It’s excessive.”

The hedgehog snorted. “You’re just upset ‘cos yore rudder’s freezing off.”

“You’re sure that’s all this is?” Shad asked, unconvinced.

Arum crossed her arms and gave him a stern look as the night-darkened walls of Fort Fallunite loomed behind her. "Would you rather go complain to Thurso himself?”

Shad quickly turned his gaze to the ground. “No.”

The hedgehog relaxed, resting a paw against the hilt of her sword, and stared out over the quarry, the faint outlines of creatures toiling below. “I know you may not like it,” she said gently, “but it’s their nature.”

Far below, one of the creatures stumbled. There was a splash, and quickly one of the other creatures tried to help as the poor beast flailed in the floodwater

“Sometimes, they may seem as kind as any gentlebeast, and you’ll think they’re no different than us.”

A third silhouette appeared and shoved the second beast into the water. The victim was immediately on their feet, charging at the culprit. A fierce roar echoed off the stone walls. Shad’s ear twitched.

“But it’s just an act. In the end, they'll betray anybeast foolish enough to show them kindness. I’ve never seen it end any other way.”

Torch-lit figures rushed toward the scuffle and pried the beasts apart amid indiscernible shouting.

The stars silhouetted the rat sitting on the hill behind the old, tattered house. The lights swam across the sky, so slow that they looked frozen. He reached a paw upwards, as if to touch one. But they were much too far away, and he felt only the breeze on his paw. The air stilled. This moment made him smile, and oh, he breathed in the silence. Shadowed by the planet, the tall, green grass told him with a scent that rain had come and gone tonight, and no one from the village would know till the morning.

Footsteps announced the arrival of a much smaller beast. The young one sat beside him and spoke softly. “You should be asleep, Theo.”

Theo sighed. “Aye, Sorrel,” he rumbled quietly to the little stoat.

The furrow in Sorrel’s brow showed her concern. “Did you feel the earthquakes again?”

He braced himself against the silence before speaking again. “…Aye.”

Earthquakes. That was the name he’d given them, when it all began, when Sorrel first saw him cover his ears with his paws, saw his breath quicken, his entire body tremble. She couldn’t hear the roaring in his ears, she couldn’t feel the crushing pain in his chest, and so he told her that they were earthquakes. He felt them from time to time. He didn’t know why. No one else felt them. He’d long ago heard that it wasn’t safe to be inside when an earthquake struck, so he would go outside and find a clearing, where he would wait until the earth stopped moving beneath his feet.

And so he often found himself here, on this hill. It was quiet. It was safe.

He brushed his paws along the petals of dandelions at his side, trying to think of something to say. Something to reassure Sorrel.

But she spoke first. “They have beasts in Salamandastron studying the stars.”

“They have, have they?” he asked, turning to her with an amused half smile.

The little stoat nodded vigorously. “Aye. They used to look up at the stars and think that they were moving. Every season, the stars were different, but every year, they came back. And one day, the beasts in the mountain started thinking, if it looks like everything around us is moving, maybe we’re the ones who are moving.”

Theo chuckled. “That sure is an interesting idea. Where did you learn that?”

“Amaranth told me,” Sorrel said, beaming. “She traveled all over the world!”

Theo watched the young stoat babble eagerly about everything that Amaranth had told her. The moon coated Sorrel’s brown fur in blue light and sprinkled tiny stars in her eyes. Sometimes, it was hard to believe this was the same orphan he had found crying in an empty house seven years ago, that this was the stoat he had raised. Affection crushed Theo like a tidal wave.

“…and you know, my mom used to travel,” Sorrel continued.

Theo’s blood chilled at the mention of Sorrel’s mother. “Aye, Sorrel, I know,” he snapped. “I’m the one who told you.”

Sorrel paused, startled by the tone of his voice. “O-oh, I—”

“It’s fine,” said Theo. He hadn’t meant to be rude. But he wasn’t ready to think about her. It would only put him in a mood. “I’m sorry for snapping,” he added, lowering his voice.

The silence between them lasted several moments, but Sorrel eventually said, “It’s okay.” Her voice was quiet. She knew it was a sensitive subject with Theo.

He spoke gently. “You should sleep soon.”

She replied, “You’ll have to wake up soon.”