There was no more metal on the walls or the floor. Everything was covered in a black substance that shifted under her legs like some kind of skin. It contorted, giving an uncanny resemblance to moving muscles beneath clothes. Worst of all was the lack of sound. No soft splashes of water on the floor. No tinkling of metal. The fleshy substance absorbed even the last drops of blood from both of them, leaving only their racing hearts and anxious breaths to be heard in the hallway.
Our girl. She imagined words being spoken in the darkness. Foolish girl. We let you go once. Now we feast.
She knew they’d see her by now. The beings inhabiting this tunnel weren’t exactly evil, just very territorial. A few years ago, she had snuck into this tunnel with the intention of taking something to show off back home. When her fingers tried to pry out the strange substance, she was taught a lesson in pain she'll never forget. For weeks, the young Ratcatcher wailed and cried in her bed, struggling against the poison injected beneath her limbs. But she was left alive.
And so she yelped when a familiar shape stepped into the corridor, six arms outstretched, blocking the other entrance. The Other! And not just any Other, but the one who had punished her the last time!
The creature stood three meters tall, covered by dark chitin. Unlike spiders, who had a sort of chitin plates around their bodies, leaving tiny gaps into which a blade could enter, these beings looked like they were cut from a solid piece of armor. A tube-like body was supported by two legs, thin as stalks but capable of easily traversing vast distances at a moment’s notice. The arms were as thick as her torso and were multi-jointed, capable of bending in numerous places. Rather than hands, the beings had cruel pincers capable of injecting poison beneath the skin.
And finally, there was a head. Elongated forward and flattened, the position of the orange compound eyes forced the being to turn the head sideways to look forward. A single mouth concealed a needle-thin row of teeth. The Other moved in jerky motions that lacked any fluidity. Worst of all, it did not smell, and if it had a heart, Ratcatcher could not hear it.
She recognized this guard by a slight scar above an eye; his or its visage burned into her memory with the searing acid that coursed through her veins.
“I-I-I-I didn’t come to steal or look! And I-I-I-I am sorry for the last time,” she pleaded, hearing her teeth chatter. The creature moved its eye at the girl in her hands before returning the look with a silent accusation. “Not me! The outsiders hurt her! I can’t take her through the tunnels; there is toxic water there. She’ll get sick and die! P-please… Let us pass. She is injured, and I just want to go home.”
I have a brother. Ratcatcher thought, struggling not to lose herself at the sight of these monstrous pincers. I have a beautiful little bro, and nothing can go wrong. La-la-la.
A pincer moved toward her face, jerking and twisting. She forced herself to stand her ground. No Other had ever killed a human. They would hurt any intruder and very badly, often causing the wounded to claw at walls in desperation, and worst of all, Mak’s unique healing touch could not help with it. But at the same time, the Others did not view humans as food. They preferred them to keep their distance.
The arm pushed Ratcatcher forward, and she found a tunnel wide open, with the gigantic being behind her. The Other pointed with his pincer, and she walked forward, obeying the directions. Deep within the place, it became a bit different from Dad’s maps, but Ratcatcher could feel her Mom and Dad getting closer by the minute.
This was a unique ability of hers. She asked other children, and they just looked at her, thinking she was crazy, but she knew that no matter how far away, no matter how many walls separated her from the people she loved, Ratcatcher always knew where they were. So far she could not sense her brother, but then again, he had just been born. That was probably the problem.
Orange eyes traced them from the darkness. Others, dozens of them, stood by the walls, unbreathing and unmoving, almost perfect statues. Only these statues could move, and they stung really badly. There was no food in sight, no roaches or insects scurrying on the floor. Everything living rushed away from the Others. But if that is the case, Ratcatcher wondered, what are they eating?
There was somewhat of a truce between the Others and her people. Both groups tried to keep their distance. Occasionally, a young Other would save a hunter's life from a spider, but no one could tell if the creature wanted to help or was simply training. And any human who tried to come and thank them or build relationships soon found themselves in a world of pain.
To her surprise, the Other escorted her far outside their territory, walking calmly behind the girls. Once they left the area of the strange substance, his legs sent loud tremors and ringing sounds against the floor, making Ratcatcher jump up a little.
A spider tried to leap at them, attracted by the smell of blood. It skittered away at a glance of the orange compound eye. Rather than allowing the girl to crawl into the last tunnel leading to the village, the Other made way for them, stepping forward and burying all six arms in the wall. With a violent thrust, it opened a path leading to the row of huts, and Ratcatcher breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, sir.” She turned around to thank the Other, but only the wall with a newly made tunnel greeted her. There was no sign of the Other, and Ratcatcher ran off, kicking up dust with her feet.
****
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“You went to catch a spider? On your own?” Bloodsworn pinned Ratcatcher with a look, tearing up the sleeve of the broken girl’s leg.
Bloodsworn was truly blessed. The thick fur covered her entire body, and barely restricted might was visible in her every move. A single snap of her fingers could a spider's head flying, and her thick hide often withstood sharp spider legs, leaving Bloodsworn bereft of scars. A deadly looking hook adorned the end of her long tail, but for now, right now Mom moved with the grace of a dancer, wiping the blood from the girl's face with precious water and preparing to treat the leg, all the while urging her daughter to look and remember.
Seeker smiled at Ratcatcher encouragingly with his white eyes. Like his daughter, Dad resembled a human, only one covered by a thick fur coat. Unlike Bloodsworn, he had a face, not a long snout filled with deadly fangs, and he had a slender build and a rather short tail. But in days gone by, Seeker, then a young and curious hunter, had challenged his future wife to a contest of strength and won, tying her up at the end. Soon after, the two joined the hunt, and within a few months, they had taken each other for life.
Dad the wounded girl's head and quickly began to make a makeshift bandage from clean cloth. Many of her people could tolerate insects or dirt, but not Seeker. Dad kept their home clean of dust and dirt, always made sure his daughter drank only clear water, and pestered Mom to no end during her pregnancy, even taking over her duties of catching and cooking food, much to the woman's dissatisfaction.
Thanks to them both, the hut looked nice. Ratcatcher had her own room, filled with various rocks she had brought from the tunnels—twenty-eight beautiful stones. They even had rough beds and a table, along with three chairs—a true fortune by the standards of their village.
"I just wanted to bring my little brother a present." Ratcatcher fought back the urge to cry. She wanted to help, damn it! Why did everything have to be so hard?! "Mom, will she be okay?"
“Wanted to bring meat, brought a kid instead.” Bloodsworn grumbled, stretching the girl's leg. Even unconscious, the poor thing cried out, and Mom patted her gently. "It's okay, youth. The pain will go away and everything will be fine. You'll be walking in no time."
The woman pressed two wooden planks against the broken leg to keep it straight and used bandages and cloths to secure it. Mom looked over the wounded girl, sniffing her body, before turning to Ratcatcher. She had cleaned and bandaged Ratcatcher's shoulder and stroked her daughter’s head, pressing the girl against her massive chest.
"It's okay, Ratty. You got scared; big deal; everyone gets scared occasionally,” the woman spoke with love and passion. She grimaced, stepped back, put a hand on her stomach and took four slow breaths before continuing. "You're alive, and that's what matters. That, and if you ever try it again, I will whip your ass like there is no tomorrow; you got that, daughter of mine?" Bloodsworn asked with a grin.
“Yes, ma’am!” She tried to straighten up and received a tap against her forehead, strong enough to send her sitting.
"And no fighting, you understand??" Bloodsworn closed her face to Ratcatcher’s. "Seeker and I are the ones guarding you and your brother, and we will take care of you. You are to stay in the village and grow. Want to help? Catch a rat or two; I’ll need some leather to make clothes for your brother."
“Vengy fights! And he is only a year older than me!” she said stubbornly.
“Vengeanceater is a separate case.” Dad crossed the distance and helped her to her feet. “The boy has a good heart but is a bit screwed up in his head, and even Mak can’t help him. For goodness’ sake, he runs around naked and refuses all gifts! Don’t follow his example. Speaking of Mak, go fetch him.”
“But…” Ratcatcher blinked. “The costs!”
Old Mak, or Mak for short, was an old loner who lived in the middle of the village. Some said he saw the village being formed; others said he was the first of them. Mak never said anything, just kept to himself, his muzzle a mask of constant grief. His once glorious brown fur had fallen off, and old age had stolen his inner flame, making Mak always wear several blankets to warm himself.
The old man had a unique gift. Dad explained to Ratcatcher that some people in this world were not only stronger and faster than the others but could also perform miracles. Like creating fire from their fingers. Mak could heal. When he laid his hands on others, he could heal the most recent damage, with some limitations. He could not restore a limb or cure madness, but he could close cuts and stop internal bleeding. Sometimes, when he pushed himself hard enough, even poison could be removed by his wrinkled hands.
But most of the time, Mak was dozing, barely aware of his surroundings, and always demanding an insanely high price for his healing. Rarely, very rarely, when light returned to his eyes, Mak would go on a rampage through the village, calling out to his long-lost wife and children and healing everyone in his path. But today was not one of those days.
“We’ll live, and she might not if some infections set in. Outsiders are frailer than we are. I’ll catch as many spiders as he wants.” Dad scratched his chin. “And I’ll bring a few to the Others’ doorstep. Good deeds must be rewarded.”
“I’ll do it myself,” Mom interjected.
“No. You will stay home, watch over the kids, and recover. I will do it.”
“I am fully able to move around!”
"And yet, for the sake of our children, you will rest, and I will be the one who hunts spiders."
"You want to fight, honey?!" Mom and Dad head-butted each other, locking eyes furiously.
"Maybe I do, dear, but let's save the fun until you recover," Dad said in the same calm voice. "Obey, or I will tie you up and feed you like a child until you heal. We have children to raise and I refuse to lose you."
"Um, are you..." Ratcatcher began, and both turned to her, causing her to jump. “Going, going, already there!”
She stopped at a bedroom and glanced at her sleeping bro. Even with all the commotion, the ball of fur was sleeping like an angel. Her precious little brother clearly took after Mom, with a long tail, an already sturdy build, and a loud snort. Bloodoath, Mom called him. Good name. Cool name.
I will bring you something good, Bloody. She promised herself and stormed out of the hut.
They lived on the outskirts of their village, in one of the naturally formed caverns in the Scrapyard. She had heard about the wonders of the outside world and had even seen some electric lights, but there was nothing like that here. The only source of light came from torches on the walls that burned waste oil. Several wells provided the small village with clean water, and older men and women used strange constructions to purify the water for newborns, then sold it in exchange for food.
If the rumors were to be believed, the people here traded with outsiders centuries ago, but then something happened. No one knew what, and the language between the two peoples was long forgotten, leading to constant clashes.
Ratcatcher found herself wanting to teach the wounded girl how to speak their language. Perhaps they could bond and become sisters? Maybe she'll tell her what's happening outside the tunnels. What if... what if this girl could convince the outsiders to stop attacking and...
A shudder beneath her feet snapped the girl out of her dreams.