Life teemed in a land of compressed steel and interconnected corridors stretching for kilometers in every direction. Countless suffocatingly narrow tunnels connected these mountains of metal, and in their pitch darkness, life thrived. Small bugs and rodents scuttle around in search of nutritious sludge leaking from the cracks in the walls. Larger insects prowled in the utter darkness. These insects preyed upon the smaller bugs, completing the strange ecosystem sprouting out of the ruins of the once-great civilization. An unsuspected or callous traveler could easily find their death in the great insects’ mandibles.

The young girl braving a tight tunnel wasn’t such a person. She uncoiled her long tail, using it to check her rear. Ratcatcher didn’t care about the collapsed rooms, compartments as Dad called them, around her. She didn’t care about the rich history permeating this place or about the secrets that Scrapyard, her home and everything around her, still held hidden beneath countless tons of unbreakable alloy. All she cared about was a longleg, a bug named so for its six thin legs, each ending with a sharp claw capable of injecting poison into its victims. It pushed its legs into the fissures, plucking out a tasty morsel to be devoured.

She could see it in the tunnel ahead, skittering toward a new hunting ground. The girl held her breath, seeing in the dark with ease thanks to her beady crimson eye, a perfect, albeit smaller, copy of her mother’s eye. Her human eye struggled, making the young wannabe hunter rely on her keen ears. She twitched the claws, desperately wanting to clank on the metal in tune with the bug’s movement, but she didn’t dare to alert it.

There! The prey made a turn and dropped out of the tunnel onto the metal surface below. Ratcatcher pushed ahead, twisting and contorting to help the parts of her body not covered by smooth fur slide further. She pushed her human hand ahead, touching the tunnel’s edge and timing the sound of her movement with a longleg’s stab. It has found its first prey. All the better for her. Ratcatcher exhaled and imagined the bug’s thoughts below.

Compound eyes counted the scurrying cockroaches, while tiny hairs on the ends of six long legs caught a whiff of wind, confirming the safety of the surroundings. Nothing but ravenousness growled in the insect’s brain, but it stood quietly, hidden amidst rusted pipes and allowing toxic sludge to hide its natural smell. The silly things thought the hunter was gone and started returning. Sturdy and round mandibles opened eagerly at the sight of approaching prey; a single leg rose…

And from the darkness above, the Ratcatcher's hand emerged. The insect’s hair barely had time to catch the vibrations of the air before a palm closed around the struggling creature and lifted its fifty-centimeter-long body. It tried to attack with sharp legs and bite with its mandibles, only to stiffen as the claws rammed into the space between his head and neck and the girl’s fanged teeth bit the chitin’s body.

I have a brother! A thought raced through Ratcatcher’s mind as she stopped herself from falling face down into the sludge and swung her body, landing amidst the roaches. She ripped the sack of poison from the bug's belly and chomped at the remains, not squeamishly gulping the legs.

With the last edible remnants of the bug in her stomach, the tunnels returned to their natural silence, leaving the girl’s beating heart to be the loudest thing in this confined space. Ratcatcher smiled, pushed through the tunnel, exhaled, and twisted her body to slide from the smaller tunnel into the larger one. She landed on some cockroaches, grabbed a few insects with her long tail, and tossed them into her mouth.

Brother! She has a brother. Her eyes beamed with happiness at the thought. A cute little nubbin was waiting for her at home, cared for by her strict Mom and gentle Dad. And when little Bloodoath grows up, she will show him every tunnel and every nook and cranny of their small homeland and teach him how to hunt and slay nasty spiders! They’re going to have so much fun together!

She wanted to sing but kept her silence, fully knowing how dangerous this place was. If Mom knew she was here, she would introduce Ratcatcher's ass to more than simple slaps for insubordination. A hissing white flash in a wall banished the darkness, startling the girl.

Scrapyard could be a place of miracles, full of unexpected treasures. The young girl often collected shining stones in the deepest tunnels. They were of no practical use, looking so pretty when piled together and illuminating the walls of her small room with a multicolored rainbow!

The residents of Scrapyard would gather their children to demonstrate to them what humanity was once capable of when a light, similar to the one she had encountered, would flash in a tunnel due to a sudden spark of electricity reactivating centuries-old projectors.

But more often than not, Scrapyard was a place of death. Roaming insects and spiders the size of Ratcatcher waited in the tunnels, eager to inject unsuspecting victims with body-dissolving fluids and suck out the resulting juice. Spider webs, tougher than iron, captured some of the tunnels, forcing the locals to dig out new ones or burn away the insects in the underground wars.

Wildlife was far from the only danger here. Years ago, before Ratcatcher was even born, one of their group members went mad from something called claustrophobia and began kidnapping children to sacrifice to the gods in hopes of escaping. Seeker took out the madman on his own, painting the walls with the sick man's blood after a weeklong hunt. It was for this reason that Dad always warned the young girl against spending long hours in the narrow tunnels.

At their core, she and her people were still human. Just because they could survive some toxic fumes and polluted air didn't mean they could survive anything. Ratcatcher knew this firsthand, having once seen a woman die after being boiled alive when one of the pipes in the walls exploded, spewing overheated gas and water.

And the size of this place! Bloodsworn always demanded that her daughter stay in the vast caverns where their people, mutated in days past, had found solace and safety. Mom was ever worried about her daughter's posture, and Ratcatcher was willing to admit that her left shoulder now was way lower than her right and that the position of her ribs had shifted over the years.

But this was okay! The tunnels were life; the tunnels were the way! Ratcatcher was born in them, and she allowed her metal friends to shape her body as they saw fit. After all, she had to carry her weight, right? No food, no life, and the sooner she became a full-fledged hunter, the sooner Mom would have nothing to worry about.

And it was fun to traverse this maze. With the soul-crushing and suffocating tightness of the tunnels, you had to breathe out at the right time to squirm through the tunnel, turn your head to the side, or even sometimes dislocate a bone or two. Painful, but so exciting!

She froze in place, placing one ear on the ground, and listened. The tunnel walls were made of fused trash and metal, hence the name Scrapyard. Every tiny bit of vibration carried well through this iron kingdom, warning the young one of the dangers ahead. Whiskers growing from one side of her face had caught something. A tunnel to her left led to the hunting grounds. But… The tapping of a dozen legs alerted her to a man-eating spider preparing for an ambush. She listened on, recognizing the tapping not as movement but as death spasms. Safety, hurray!

It took a few minutes, but Ratcatcher pushed her slender body through the long tunnel and came face-to-face with a scene of carnage. The hunting grounds themselves were a set of wide caverns, showing the sky above through a net of cracks and toxic pools reflecting the sunlight in their rainbow sludge. For some mysterious reason, spiders mated at the pools' edges. Their mating rituals were weird. A male spider would come to the edge of a toxic pool and make a deafening call. Then, in a day or a week, a female might emerge. After copulation, the male would be eaten, and the female would return to the pitch-black darkness of the tunnels.

This was when the hunters would descend upon the spiders and fight them on level ground in a place where they could stand upright. One such hunter, his whiskers covered in green blood, a long cut dividing the fur on the boy's chest, and a makeshift spear in his hand, now stood triumphantly over the downed spider. With a knife, the young man was busy removing poison sacks and collecting mandibles to repurpose them later into a blade.

"Who goes there?!" The crimson eyes calmed down at Ratcatcher's sight. "Ah, it's just you, Ratty. Hi there.'

"Hi there, Vengy." She smiled back, wondering what he meant. They sniffed the air, confirming their identities, before she came closer. "You're bleeding. Have any rags with you?"

"Nah." Vengeanceater mounted the dead insect on his, stopping her from taking off her shirt for bandages. "No need. I'll go see old Mak before visiting my Da."

"He will take away half of your haul." Ratcatcher's shoulder sank. Vengy always provided for his old man after he got paralyzed. The boy could be rough at times, but he always helped those in need.

"That still leaves me half a spider more than I had in the morning. And Mak needs to eat too," the boy said reasonably. "Say, what the hell are you doing here, squeaker?"

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"I have a brother!" She fired, and Vengy nodded and smiled back.

On some level, he understood her. As the sole provider, it fell to him to keep his immobile parent happy, no matter the struggle. And she felt the same. Her mother had just given birth! She had to do something; she had to show how much she loved her new brother. And what better gift could there be than a fat and tasty spider for dinner?

Besides, it wasn't too overly dangerous for her. Unlike Vengy, her wounds always closed quicker, and she'd already killed spiders before. Granted, none of her parents knew about it, she always lied about finding a carcass in the tunnels. It was her and Vengy's little secret, but she felt herself safe here. What's the worst that can happen?

A spear fell before her legs, and she looked at the boy, surprised.

"It's too short for me now," he said, and came into a tunnel, legs first. "Happy New Year, squeaker! And stay safe!"

"I will!" she grinned, grabbing the weapon and making a thrust in the air.

A spear! A weapon of the gods! Oh sure, some girls and boys enjoyed using twin knives, but they were stupid. A knife forced a close-range fight, while the spear provided far more utility. Its blade could cut or slash; you could make a thrust and push the weapon back, tearing at the ugly head of the spider as it tried to wrestle the weapon away with its mandibles. And most importantly, it had range, which saved you from annoying stingers!

No injuries meant no loss of blood, which in turn meant no old Mak and no loss of a haul. Smart!

With her spear in hand, Ratcatcher has made her way around the hunting ground, nervously looking around. Spiders could be everywhere, from the ceiling to the walls to the ground. Unlike simple insects, like roaches, these oversized monstrosities could perform basic tricks and were well adept at harassing young hunters by spitting out a stream of web at them. Their goal was to force an inexperienced hunter back into a tunnel, where the creatures would have every advantage in the world.

But not against her, no sir! She wasn't that stupid or gullible. When the worst happened, Ratcatcher always took a stand and overcame the enemy with the claws of her hand and leg. Plus, she has a spear now. And a brother. The day just keeps getting better and better! Now all she has to do is find good food.

She calmed down, lowering herself on her knees and faking weakness. No attack. No sudden skittering across the walls. Fine, everything is fine. She is okay. Her human ear only caught the dripping of the poisonous mud, but the ear of her people caught something else. Legs running. A worried cry, followed by a sound of metal and stones falling, and then a desperate scream. And a sound of ringing metal when a body slammed itself against metal. And then. Skittering legs, tapping with their claws at the metal.

It took her less than a minute, for she raced forward, worried that one of the hunters somehow got hurt. It happened, but very rarely. The men and women hunting here knew their craft, and from where could they fall? Upon reaching the wide, spherical room ahead, Ratcatcher froze.

It wasn't her people who got into trouble. It was the fucking outsiders! Scum and lowlifes who come to Scrapyard in search of "valuable" metal. Ha, as if! They peek through the wide cracks and throw dirt and rocks at the hunters, hurting the people who lived here. And worst of all, these so-called humans, with whom Ratcatcher shared half of her visage, would sometimes send hunting parties down to kill people for but a single reason. She too… she was once… Ratcatcher shook her head, focusing on the situation.

She hadn't just found a spider. Before her stood a female spider, larger than herself. And in front of the cautiously approaching spider lay a girl. She looked so tiny and vulnerable, her red hair soaked with blood and one leg twisted at an impossible angle. Dressed in a simple leather jacket and jeans, she looked like an offering to the spider.

Then again, maybe she was. Ratcatcher looked up with burning hatred, seeing people shouting in an unknown language and throwing stuff down. A metal pipe fell, almost hitting the girl's head. She is of your kind, and this is how you treat her?!

Outsiders were evil. Everyone knew that. But there were different breeds of evil. Normal outsiders were busy rummaging through the Scrapyard, taking away some metal, and mostly hurling insults and throwing things at the people here. Mostly. Some used guns to keep the locals at bay.

The outsiders hunters were so much worse! They often came down to hunt and kill. Rumor had it that they once laid a woman against an iron railing and slowly cooked her while her heartbroken husband watched, unable to save his love. Although… no one knew the source of these rumors. Ratcatcher asked around, and Mama looked at her weirdly before telling her she had a good imagination.

The point was, hunters meant death. Some of them, mostly young ones, would sometimes spare a wounded person and even occasionally give a wounded person their magical medicine while wearing a haunting look in their eyes. But grown-ups… They killed. And there was not much anyone could do about them because outsiders had guns and weapons. Their kind wielded the miracles of the Old World. Only when some of them did something foolish… Ratcatcher shook her head again, banishing the memories.

Outsider or not, a life is a life. Not thinking of what she was doing, Ratcatcher gripped her spear with all her might and rushed forward, plunging its end into the spider's back. Distracted by the screams and sounds of falling objects, its eyes on the prize, the dangerous creature had failed to react in time. She had no illusion of a victory—not against a matriarch spider, anyway. These creatures were covered in carmine chitin, and their red eyes burned with nothing short of devious hunger. Eight legs supported a round body covered with thick hair; each leg was sharp enough to slice flesh all the way to the bone. And its mandibles could snap a person in two.

Ratcatcher's spear has failed to penetrate the tough chitin, but the girl glided her spear to ram its blade into the soft tissues between the plates. The four hind legs struck out, enveloping the steel spear with the intention of either cutting it or tearing it away. She simply pushed the insect forward, ripping its remaining legs off the ground and plunging its massive body into the toxic waters. It let out a scream and fell silent as the deadly acid poured down its throat. The eyes focused on her for a moment before the acid ate them away. Ignoring the predator's death throes, she grabbed the child and put a hand on her chest.

Thank the tunnels; her heart was beating. Ratcatcher exhaled in relief, wondering just what sort of scum would throw a kid, an innocent kid, down! Outsiders were scum; they were the reason her people could not leave these tunnels, but this? Are they mad as well?

A piercing pain in her shoulder, followed by a loud boom, answered her. Ratcatcher did not look up, but grabbed the girl and ran into the tunnels. They shot her. The shot barely tore the skin off her shoulder; it was far less lethal than the one the evil woman had fired at her, but the fact remained. She saved one of them, and they wanted to kill her for it! Was this whole situation not just an offering for the spider, but also a trap for her? Were the outsiders planning to go down again?

If so, they would find only death here this time. Mom, Dad, and a few others bulldozed new tunnels with their bodies, creating a net of fake entrances around the village. If the outsiders attack them again, the very walls will come down on them without mercy.

She reached the tunnel, carrying the girl in her arms and shielding the poor things from any possible attacks. Her blood and the girl's fell to the ground, but fortunately neither was seriously injured. Ratcatcher was more frightened than hurt; the bullet only tore her skin, not the bones and muscles. And the girl had a long, nasty cut on her temple that was bleeding quite badly, but hopefully it wouldn't kill her.

"Hold on, sweetie, everything will be fine," Ratcatcher cooed gently, trying to mimic Dad's voice, after the girl spoke something in the strange language. She looked at the tunnel, remembering a small pool of toxic water on its floor.

I really did it this time. The girl giggled nervously, hearing loud screams at a circular opening above her. The outsiders were running above the compressed pile of metal and will soon find a new vantage point to shoot at them again. I only wanted some food for my little bro; how come I am bringing another kid home now? Not that I am against new friends, but this is an outsider!

They can't stay here. Either the outsiders will come down eventually, or a spider will catch their scent. No, to live is to move. Through the tunnels? No, the outsiders are frail and weak, the poison will kill the kid. This only left a single option.

With fear, Ratcatcher looked at the massive gap in the wall. No spider would get out of there. No hunter would be foolish enough to enter. But the path was wide enough for both of them and led directly to a huge tunnel that led to their home. She knew it because Dad had mapped it before the tunnel was claimed.

The entrance looked like the maw of a great beast or the mandibles of an enormous spider. The once rough edges were polished to a smooth finish, and the thick darkness inside seemed to hunger to envelop her and pull the girls inside, where it would suck out whatever juices the two of them had before splitting the remains and...

Enough! I am not a scared rat! Ratcatcher bit her lip.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and so she stepped inside, gulping in horror and nearly wetting herself. She hugged the girl, keeping her warm as much as she gained courage from the small body.