Chapter One

A Note: If you found out that you were dying, Would you be nicer? Love more? Try Something new? Well, we are. We all are.

Chapter One

            The first growth appeared near her left temple--a soft sprig of laurel that bounced when she moved. Carrie was the one who noticed it first, before they realized what it meant.

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            A choking gasp shattered the ringing white noise in her mind, sides heaving to calm her racing heart. She looked to the left--a mountain; then to the right--no, not a mountain; the stone structures were massive, stretching left and right to meet at distant corners. She was sitting in the middle of a cavernous room with walls that climbed upwards until they dissolved into darkness.
            Something hard pressed against her back. At first, it resembled a wall of smooth bark, but that wasn’t quite right. It was a tree, a massive tree.
            Leaves shifted on the dusty floor of the vine-choked cavern. The tree had been slowly invading the stony floors with a tangled mass of roots, while rays of dim light drifted gaily through the shifting shadows. A single breath overtook the silence.
            What was this place, and, how did she get here? Her unsteady limbs worked to stand, turning with a stumble to take in the lonely cave-creature.
            It was a creature, because to label it something as simple as a tree would be an injustice. This creature was of much greater proportions: the trunk an independent skyscraper, jutting its lowest, crane-like limbs hundreds of feet above. The swamp of leaves it produced was as thick and cluttered as the darkness itself, but it was not the size alone that could take someone’s breath away.
            The fauna, which weaved in and out of the dazzling vines above, were the most beautiful. One could not tell if they were moths, butterflies, lightning bugs--they ebbed magnificent colors while drifting to and fro on delicate wings. “Dreams”, was the word that conjured in her head.
            There was other fauna too, from a past time. Lodged between the roots was a smooth round skull and the remnants of a skeleton. She stared at it for a moment, unafflicted. There was no panic or fear, only numbness--this person was dead, and that mean nothing to her.
            It was at that realization that everything began to change.
            Something fell from above and brushed her cheek. Looking up, the gentle flyers had begun to dim one by one, darken, and fall from the sky as mere, black husks of their former selves. The dazzling vines that had reached so longingly for the ground shriveled and died where they hung, dissolving into dust. Finally, the light emanating from within the tree was dampened between the cracks of bark until all was dismal and silent. Leaves dissolved into nothing and the tree remained as lifeless as the skeleton it held within. She was abandoned and alone.
            “Oh.”
            The sound leaked from her mouth without realizing, but she quickly stopped. Here was a girl, alone in the dark while a strange sense of death overtook the room. The quiet could be a killer too. Nothing was safe.
            With a quickening pulse she picked her way through the gloom. A cold draft broke against her skin before long and brought goosebumps all over her arms and legs. Wind had to be coming from an outside source, so she followed it while her eyes tried to soak up any ounce of inadequate lighting that they could.
            There was a gaping tunnel in the far wall that presented itself. It looked like a mouth hungry for young souls to march down its gullet and into the depths of its belly. Or, maybe it was a way out. Looking back at the outline of the forlorn tree, she realized there was no real way for her to know without going for it. A deep breath, twisting the fabric of her shirt in her hand--that was all it took to summon her courage and trudge onward, swallowed in the inky blackness.

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            The throat of the tunnel was coated in a thin layer of slime and cascading into the depths of whatever mountain it was carved into. Dank drafts of air and dripping liquids echoed off the cramped walls. Step by step, she pulled herself deeper into the bowels of stone, until something jumped over her foot.
            It was a light bump, just a whisper of movement over the fabric of her shoe and the stony ground, but it was enough to make her pause. She set her foot down lightly, but there it was again--a warmth rubbed across the back of her ankle. Two infectious teeth sank into her tender skin with a burning pain before she could yank her foot away, and the knee-jerk reaction sent the small body flying across the pitch-blackness with a thud.
            The sound of her presence awoke an infestation. Her ears were buffeted by deafening shrieks that slowly morphed into their true sound, screaming rats.
            Their angry hissing and enraged squeals would’ve sent anyone sprinting blindly through the tunnel, and she was no different--that is, until one wrong step sent her slipping off of her feet. A different source of light approached quickly as she struggled to stay upright, eventually sprawling into a foreign room.
            The rats pursued, and then, startled by the change in brightness, dissipated into random nooks and crannies about the base of the walls. Everything fell silent, save for the breathing of one scared child sitting alone in a significantly smaller room than before. A bright voice revealed itself.
            “Hey! You made it!”
            Her adrenaline skyrocketed at the sound of an intruder, but when she spun around there was no one there. Instead, she was faced with a peculiar impossibility; A small little rat, sitting on pink paws with clean, white fur and silky tan accents. It spoke;
            “Boy, you sure look spooked.”
Still at a loss for words, she simply gaped.
            “My name is Carrie,” it waited patiently for a response that wasn’t coming.
            “Don’t worry, I’m not like those other ones,” the rat assured with some disgust.
            Still no response.
            “I’m here as a friend!”
The wary intensity from previous events took a moment to fade, until finally she spoke to the rodent.
            “…Who sent you?”
The sound of weakness in her voice surprised both of them. The rat glowed at being acknowledged, while she wondered just how long it had been since she had last spoken.
            “I sent myself,” the little rat immediately announced with pride. “To make sure you were safe! So you can trust me.”
Though the girl couldn’t agree, she did not verbally disagree, so the rat stayed optimistic.     
            “Great! Then let’s try this again--Hi, my name is Carrie!” Carrie proclaimed with the twitch of a nose. “You’re a human, right? I can tell--a human girl!”
The human girl nodded. It was one of the only things she really knew.
            “What’s your name?” the little rat prompted. It was the first time she would have to recall something about herself.
            “My name…is…”
            No matter how hard she wracked her brain, nothing would come up from before she woke up beneath that tree, including her name.
            “I don’t remember,” she admitted, furrowing her brow. Something like forgetting your own name should have been a more traumatizing experience, but it didn’t really strike her as strange. Everything within her was still numb and she didn’t really care.
            “I’ll call you…Terra! How’s that?” Carrie offered. Terra tried out the name in her head. It didn’t sound quite right, but it was all she had.
            “That works. Can you…can you tell me where I am?” she tried, putting faith in a truthful response from this strange stranger.
            “Oh yeah, sure! You must be all kinds of confused, huh? Well, don’t worry. I know exactly where we are. You’re in The Wastelands,” Carrie announced with confidence as one might announce a continent. The blank look that followed seemed to dissatisfy the rat. “You know, The Wastelands!” it tried again, but had to digress when Terra announced that The Wastelands wasn’t a place she’d heard of. It didn’t sound like anywhere on Earth.
            “Earth? Humans? I’m not too sure about all that. Not many human things wander down to these parts--you’re actually the first I’ve ever seen, so it’s all a bit hazy to me.”
This response was not a satisfying one, and in noting the distressed look onTerra’s face Carrie added “Just give me a moment, maybe I’ll think of something.”
            But there was not time for sitting around thinking, because Carrie suddenly gasped and lifted her head.
            “Oh no!” the rat hissed, standing upright to sniff the air. “We’ve talked for too long, it’s time to hide--she’s coming!”
            They both scanned the empty room for places to duck behind, Terra’s bewildered expression and fumbling movements speaking for her fear of the unknown.
            “She is a predator of this part of The Wastelands: The Wreckage,” Carrie explained, “Dominating these lands and constantly on the prowl for some sorry sap like you to wander into her territory.” Being a perfectly capable sap, she tried not to let that offend her as the rat ally went on. “Those others must’ve been scouts or something and given away our position, she’s on her way right now!” The fear in Carrie’s voice inspired panic as they took in the nonexistent options of cover around the room, but even as she took a few futile steps back towards the tunnel of rats she knew it was pointless to flee. They couldn’t run all that way and around the perimeter of the massive tree, even if they wanted to.
            “Wait! Over here.” Carrie was pointing her body to a corner in the room. “The shadows--if we’re lucky, maybe they’ll hide you!”
            Without a word Terra ran and slammed her back into the corner, pressing as far as she could while Carrie scurried to her feet.
            “Stay still…and quiet.” Carrie whispered, though unnecessary. Ones’ lungs often forgot how to breathe when they are frightened.
            …They waited in silence for a long time, eyes fixed on the unexplored tunnel entrance against the wall beside them. Carrie’s quivering whiskers picked up smells and senses that Terra was rather glad her human nose was aloof to. The sound of stalking footsteps trickled into hearing range, slow and threatening. With one final gulp of air, the monster approached.
            Moments later, she appeared. From the dark tunnel came a small wave of rats that announced her arrival, a slim smile spread on her face. Her physique demanded full-bodied scrutiny, starting from the bottom. Her feet were…dainty--for big giant rat feet. She walked on the balls of pink paws with curved, white claws that scratched against the stone. The feet went up to thick legs of tan fur--she was basically a six foot rat propped up on two legs--wearing crimson briefs and a shirt of matching style. Over that, she wore white fabric that was a strange mixture between dress and apron. That and her white bonnet/hat mixed with her furry, rat-like face, long teeth, rippling muscles, white-less eyes, and sweeping ears made her look like some killer-maiden/monster-rat--if that made any sense.
            But regardless of how the beastly rat-woman looked, it was extremely uncomfortable the way her beady rat-eyes scanned the room hungrily. There was, however, thanks in order to whatever god resided over this strange land, that the rat-lady didn’t move her head to the side and catch a glimpse of a frozen rat and shaking child in the corner. How easily could those teeth have snapped a human neck in one bite?
            Instead, with a twitch of her whiskers and a ‘hmph’, she moved on.
            They waited long after the echoing footsteps faded to finally breathe again, but not too long so that she had time to come back.
            “Come on, let’s go,” Carrie whispered fearfully and crept forward. The two peered into the tunnel uncertainly, neither of them quite wanting to delve into another unknown. But they had to go somewhere, and forward was the only option.

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            “We have to get to Slag Town before she catches us,” Carrie was saying as they emerged from the shadows of the short tunnel. Her human eyesight finally adjusted to the dim lighting, revealing a striking drop-off that left the two of them tottering on the edge of a sudden chasm. Neither spoke, for their wide eyes and beating hearts consumed all their reactions.
            “…It’s not going to be easy, but just let me be your guide and we can get through The Wastelands safely,” the little rat offered, holding her gaze. There was really no other option, so she gave a tentative nod. Satisfied, Carrie leapt forward and latched on to the fabric of her shorts, clawing her way up until she could settle safely at shoulder height. Feeling the prickle of soft animal fur was unsettling at first, but they didn’t have the luxury of time to get used to each other.
            “Hey, do you know you have these leaves behind your ear?” Carrie asked suddenly, and reached up to tug on the tuft of plant. The sudden impact of pain almost blackened her vision, and she staggered dangerously to the left before Carrie noticed her pain and released.
            “Oh, sorry! Is that a human thing? Do you grow plants out of your body?” Carrie looked concerned when she shook her head, but in the interest of time dropped the inquiry.
            “Okay, we’ll leave that be. For now, you have to cross this chasm,” the rat advised. They turned their heads with displeasure to take in the challenge. The only way to cross looked to be a thin strip of a rock formation that at one point might have been a bridge, but was now a precarious balance-beam.
            There was no point in questioning further, either death by falling or death by being torn apart by a rat-monster. At least this way it would be by her choice; even so, she could feel Carrie’s claws cling to her shirt just a little bit tighter as she stepped up to the edge.
            “Just, don’t fall--please don’t fall.” Carrie begged through clenched teeth. Terra took a deep breath and thought of short-tempered responses to distract from the first few steps. Everything fell silent, both too focused on silently willing her to stay upright.
            She had to keep her eyes straight, arms out. One false step and they’d be over the side to certain death. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone, but the imaginary timer of suspense from their predator was ticking, so she stayed determined and only focused on stepping…stepping…and slowly pulling herself to the other side.
            When there was solid ground beneath her feet, her lungs collapsed in relief and she wiped the beading sweat from her forehead.
            “Phew, good job!” Carrie said shakily, trying to feign confidence, for her human companion’s sake. Where to next, was the question. Three large tunnels presented themselves before the two.
            “Um…to the right?” Carrie suggested uncertainly, and Terra couldn’t object because she didn’t know either. They walked into the shadows of the right tunnel. It veered further the farther until there was a light ahead. The room at the end had walls and ceiling dotted with shards of crystal that glowed orange as a light source, like torches.
            “Wow…” the words breathed out as she beheld an even stranger view than before.

Moles that were almost the size of men scurried around the room--a network of tunnels, pushing dirt and stone, walking on sinking claws that look like they could gut a small girl with dangerous ease. They dug quickly and effortlessly, some even popping out of the ground as the two strangers entered, and twitched their pulsating star-shaped noses. The one who seemed to be in charge and barking orders wore a yellow hard hat, overalls and a white undershirt. He noticed them and had to do a double take, obnoxious voice dying in his throat.
            “Hey, hey, hey! Who’re you? What’re you doing here?” he shouted angrily. “This dig-site’s still under construction, not open for public use!”
            She and Carrie shared a look of confusion.
            “S-sorry?” Carrie tried, “We’re trying to get--”
            “--outta here!’ he interrupted. “Find another way! Or we’ll make you…” At his threatening, many of the moles in the room paused in what they were doing to look their way. It was menacing enough to send the two packing.
            “Right. We’ll…just be going now.” Carrie said tentatively, not taking their eyes off of the moles until they were back in the tunnel to turn and flee. She began to wonder if everything here was trying to hurt her. “Twelve times out of ten, yes,” Carrie expressed, “Now, try the middle.”
            Time was still of the essence, so together they disappeared into the shadows of the center tunnel. This one immediately seemed more promising, because it failed to deliver any roadblocks as they continued into the darkness. Eventually, shards of the earlier orange crystals began to dimly light their path.
            “I think this is the right way?” Carrie whispered next to her ear. How well Carrie actually knew this place?
            The stress of their certainly impending doom caused Terra to run a hand behind her ear, feeling the strange new plant growth. It was a soft sprig, like you would see a Greek wear behind their ears--or maybe that was the Romans. She remembered the pain from Carrie’s tug, but her fingertips came away bloodless. How was it lodged there?
            “Okay,” the little rat began musing aloud, “I know that we have to go through the rat’s headquarters--it’s the only way to get to Slag Town from their domain.” The thought didn’t satisfy, nor did it shake Terra’s resolve. Imagining a rat haven did send a shiver up her spine, or perhaps it was the cold cave atmosphere. However scary the course of action may be, it made more sense to take the path of least resistance and simply ask for permission, which Terra voiced aloud to Carrie.
            “You don’t just ask for things here, because people are evil--everything is evil.” Carrie insisted, swaying ominously on Terra’s shoulder with each step.
             “Not that I know, personally,” the rat scoffed at the mere aspect. “But I just know. Okay?” All that Terra offered was a smirk and an eye-roll.
            “Trust me,” the rat went on, “she’ll lie and say anything to get you--probably as her afternoon snack--that’s just how rats are. Why else would she be hunting us right now?”
            She wondered if she should point out the fact that Carrie was also in fact a rat, but couldn’t finish the thought because her foot suddenly sunk into the stone. Loud mechanisms began to creak and groan overhead.
            “See, it’s one of her traps! This place was littered with them,” Carrie shouted triumphantly, but as the bigger target Terra was focused on more important things. A giant stone panel began to grind overhead and slide out of the way, opening the way for an enormous boulder to plummet towards them. She squeezed Carrie and leaped to the side, deafened and disoriented by the shaking explosion left behind when it shattered. Her heart was hammering as she pulled herself up, choking on the dusty air.
            “Carrie?” She asked Carrie in a scratchy voice, having grown slightly attached to the only friendly face around here. The little rat looked shaken, but untouched by the giant pieces of  stone that had almost smashed them.
            “I’m okay…thanks to you. Hehe, I’m supposed to be the one keeping you safe,” the little rat insisted bravely, “We gotta keep our eyes peeled and keep moving.”
            Both set out with new, wary gazes.
            Carrie continued to guide through the maze of complicated and indirect tunnels. “Go left, right, down, up. Don’t worry, we’ll get there,” the rat insisted, but the longer it took the more they felt the presence of their pursuer catching up to them.

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            This definitely looks like a trap,” Carrie said it through hacking breaths, peering around the corner of the dark hallway to the floor littered with many, many, many pressure plates. There were holes in the wall primed to fire unknown projectiles.
            “It doesn’t matter. You heard them, they’re getting close!” she said worriedly, and was of course correct. They had begun to hear scratching in the walls long ago, like an infestation in the unseen tunnels. It was good motivation to move them through the whole ordeal faster, however, she could already see how well rushing this would go.    
            “Just take it slow, but not too slow,” Carrie encouraged. They began to pick their way through the buttons on the floor. One wrong step, and they’d be in a sticky situation. What would shoot out of the walls, anyways? Arrows? More rocks? God forbid rats came flying out of those holes.
            The two were getting closer and closer without any faults and making it to the other side of this mine field seemed more and more possible--that is until the sound of a thousand little cretins came scurrying in from behind. The two froze, Terra’s one foot still in the air while they turned to survey the damage.
            “Oh no,” Carrie breathed as the rats began to crowd around the edge of the trap. It only took one, just one, to step forward and places its dirty little paws on a pressure plate, press it down, and make all other plates snap into position. The walls began to move, ammunition clicking into place.
            “Run!” Carrie suddenly shouted when a rush and clank signaled a dart to shoot from a hole and spark off the opposite wall. Then came the sudden torrent of dart after dart, like a swarm; just like the rats weaving their way underneath the crossfire. Being human-sized would be her downfall as she turned and sprinted to the other side without regard for any more traps, feeling at any moment she could be pinned through the neck and fall over dead, leaving her body to the rats.
            It happened mere feet away from safety. One of the projectiles sank into her back with burning agony and stuck. She cried out and arched forward, stumbling out of the torrent and onto her hands and knees. The rats stopped on cue behind her and waited, looking into the darkness at the slow, approaching footsteps.
            The rat woman stepped out of the gloom with a menacing grin on her face as she looked down at the little girl curled up on the floor in pain.
            “Well, well, well. Look what wandered into my domain--a little cretin.” The rat-woman’s voice was cynical and deep and the intelligence in her eyes was unsettling, despite being a rodent the size of a human--in fact that probably made it even more weird.
            “You have to get up, Terra!” Carrie barely dared to breathe, panicking at Terra’s silence as she battled with the venom spreading through her body.
            “W-we don’t want to fight you,” Carrie tried again, this time louder.
            “Don’t want to fight? How cute,” the rat-woman replied cynically, taking another dangerous step forward. Her claws were primed and ready to grab. Imaging how these rats were going to excavate her carcass, or how her only escape was through a rain of poisonous darts, or all of the damage this woman could do with one blow--made Terra feel like she wasn’t going to have a choice.
            “We need to get away,” came Carrie’s fearful voice from her shoulder as the rat scurried down to hide in a spare pocket. They couldn’t turn and run through the wall of rats and bombarding traps. What did Carrie expect her to do? Especially with the spasms of fire shooting through her veins with every heartbeat.
            “Please,” Terra began in a rough voice, having kept silent for so long, “I’m trying to get home without causing trouble.”
            The idea seemed funny to the giant rat woman.
            “Without causing trouble?” she repeated with a low chuckle. “Your mere existence here has caused me trouble, and I most certainly am not going to let you leave without any.”
            Just like that, the huge rat had jumped and pinned her to the ground under the weight of her claws. Terra could only let out a little scream before the wind was choked out of her and replaced by stinking breath. The stringy flesh of her arm was slowly pulled apart as the rat woman settled her weight from above.
            “If you weren’t here for trouble, you wouldn’t have harmed my children. You wouldn’t have run from me,” she hissed. Terra remembered guiltily all the small bodies that had been kicked and stepped on while she fled these tunnels.
            “I am the mother of hated and rejected creatures, and this if their safe haven. You cannot simply infiltrate our home without suffering the consequences. Whatever you were up to, it ends here.” Her giant ears flattened against her head in anger and her scaly tail whipped back and forth. Blood was pooling from Terra’s wounds, tearing meat off of bone.
            “Wait! Leave her alone!” Carrie’s voice erupted and came running out of hiding with sudden gusto. Despite the pain, the human felt gratitude for the little rat. “I’m, uh…new here, and as a rat I can tell you she’s--!”
            Carrie’s plea was cut off by a massive paw that sent her flying into the wall with an ugly thwack. The little rat lay dazed on the ground. At least she’d tried.
            “I’m sorry, we weren’t trying to trespass,” Terra attempted to explain, “I’m lost and I only ran because I thought you were evil!” She had to fight the urge to squirm out from under her captor’s weight. Every movement was agony to keep inside while the rat-woman toyed over her words.
            “Evil? How interesting…” Her grip tightened. “Darling, I am evil! That’s why I’m going to kill you.”
            “But you just said you weren’t evil!” Terra cried desperately, “I’m the bad guy, it’s why you’ve been chasing us!”
            The rat-woman blinked in confusion and loosened her vice on the girl. Terra gasped at the ebbing pain until it was easier to speak.
            “Because I have attacked you, I am not evil?” the rat woman questioned, fully expecting an entirely wild explanation. This was good, talking meant not fighting, so she tried her best to explain.
            The logic Terra followed went something like this: An evil person wouldn’t care if things that were rejected had a place to stay. This predator was only fighting because these creatures were facing a possible threat. Granted, Terra did step on one of this creature’s rats, and maybe roughed a few up on the way, but it was all accidents. Even through her fear she felt guilty… “So, maybe you’re right, maybe I do deserve this for hurting all of your children.” Terra realized that she wasn’t arguing the right case here, but something inside her wasn’t stopping her. It wasn’t fear, resentment, or hate for herself, it was just…apathy--one of the only things she seemed capable of feeling since she woke up under the giant tree.
            “After all,” she finished, “I’m no better than they are,” and there were no words for a moment. Then, the pressure disappeared and the rat-woman sat on her massive haunches.
            “You…are something rejected and hated yourself to have ended up with such a skewed mindset--apologizing, admitting defeat, expressing regret in the face of death,” the rat woman said softly, helping the girl sit up with extra care to her bleeding arms.
            “Come, lost kit. As the mother of the lost and broken, I will not harm you.”

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            “My name is Norve, and this is our home.” The rat-woman--or, Norve now--stated as she opened the massive front door to her cave-dwelling estate. Carrie rested silently in Terra’s pocket, but seeing such a quaint, modern looking home in this underground biome filled both with giddy relief. It was the first semi-normal thing to see since waking up.
            Semi-normal because the house was swarming with rats. The cool blue tile and white walls were lined with clear plastic tunnels that lead to cages, running wheels, water bottles, and bowls of food, and the little rats criss-crossed all over the network. The black brawler rats suddenly didn’t look so oily and intimidating with flashing eyes and sharp teeth. They looked at ease and happy to scurry to and fro with free domain of the house.
            “All I’ve ever wanted to do was keep my children happy and safe from the people who would break their spirits, call them worthless, leave them uncared for--they all find their way to me eventually,” Norve declared passionately. They were seated in comfortable foyer chairs after wrapping her stinging wounds in a special salve, Norve profusely apologizing for her rash actions but Terra couldn’t be mad, and in almost found herself commending Norve’s cause.
            A little rat with a boot-cast limped way towards them, probably the one she regrettably remembered stepping on. She apologized, squatting down to hold out a hand to the little guy while Norve finished treating her numbing wounds. The little one sniffed at it and nothing more, the smaller--or say, the normal sized rats seeming to be incapable of speech.
            “You will fit in well here, little kit--already understanding the ways of peace and kindness. It seems you are a true underling of mine after all,” Norve said happily. The human smiled for the first time, and it made Norve’s eyes brighten.
            “How wonderful! Welcome to your new home, and meet your brothers and sisters!” she exclaimed with enthusiasm, sweeping her hands, er, paws, across the big foyer.
            “A special meal is in order. Please, find a place to rest and make yourself at home,” Norve offered, practically skipping away on light feet after an accepting nod. They couldn’t have chosen a happier host. The boot-rat took that as his cue and hauled himself to three legs, dragging the fourth one after him. Terra guessed that meant to follow, patting her pocket where Carrie was staying surprisingly silent.
            Boot-rat showed them to a guest bedroom and left them to settle in. Terra took in the quaint room, letting her hand fall on a faded quilt bedding, pulling the lamp string beside the bed, and rummaging through a sparse collection of clothes in the wardrobe. Only when the door was shut and she plopped herself down on the bed did Carrie come running out angrily.
            “Terra! What do you think you’re doing?” Carrie exclaimed haughtily, puffing her fur when all Terra did was calmly reach for the tableside mirror.
            “We are in the house of the enemy! And we’re staying here?!” Carrie went on, furious at being ignored. Now it was Terra who turned her aggravated gaze on Carrie and made one simple statement: “Slag Town?”
            “Yeah, I know the exit is in her basement, but she’s never going to let us leave now that we’ve been in her house! We’re in danger!” Carrie insisted. Terra put down the mirror and let out a deep breath with on eyebrow raised.
            “Why?” she demanded.
            “What do you mean, why?” Carrie stutters. “Why are we in danger? B-because...I just know”
            “How do you claim to know all this stuff anyway? You almost took us down the wrong path and you’ve been just as caught off guard by everything we’ve gone through,” Terra accused.
            “I-I just…know stuff, alright?” She answered unsatisfyingly, “It’s who I am! I’m Carrie--I’m omnipotent.”
            Terra thought for a moment.
            “You mean omniscient?” she mused, not surprised by much at this point. An omniscient rat would be a useful companion to have. “But you get things wrong, just like me.”
            “Yeah, well, I’m omniscient--sort of. Well, not really. I know some stuff…just because I know it. I don’t know everything, like why, or what, where I came from, how I got these powers, or when I’ll know what I’ll know. But that’s how I know where to go--sometimes--and how I know that Norve is evil, and that we’re in danger here!” Carrie insisted. Terra simply smiled and yawned.
            “Everyone is a little evil,” was all she replied, leaning back on the soft pillows. “That doesn’t mean they can’t love or be nice.”
            A strange tranquility settled over her body, and her mind seemed to break through the cloud of indifference that was muting her decisions and reactions. For once she felt…safe.
            “I think Norve is good. She might do bad things because she thinks it’s right, but her heart is in the right place; and it only takes a tiny bit of good to change someone…” With those words, Terra drifted off to sleep.

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            In the blink of an eye she was standing atop a stone bridge. It all seemed so familiar--the gentle swaying of the forest far below, and the orange setting sun that called to her from the horizon. Everything was silent and warm, and the wind encouraged her to step forward.
            I must be dreaming, she thought to herself, though one might consider what she had just gone through to be the dream.
            In this vision she saw herself ready to jump; yet she couldn’t bring herself to feel fear or be disgusted. The strangest thing was, she just loved how she could close her eyes…and make her body rock forward. She remembered a buffeting drag, being set free, and then--darkness.
            The forest below disappeared.
             A single, monstrous tree reached up to welcome her, stopping her heart as she plummeted towards the shadowy sea of leaves.
            She was greeted with an explosion of pain at the first collision. It was a disgustingly new sound: ribs snapping on the branches that started her staggering descent, skull bouncing and insides blending with splinters. Her flesh hooked, ripped, squirted. Sinews and muscle escaped the body. She screamed but couldn’t breathe--lungs and body dying--drowning in the leaves.
            Her eyes were gouged--skewered through the side--and yet she kept falling, crying through the gore, through the torrent, through the pain, until she hit the bottom…and then she woke up.

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            Her eyes shifted under the lids and saw green, tall fauna--the Mother Tree--then were lulled open by the smell of something…amazing.
            “Where…oh…” It took a moment to realize where she was--such a nice room filled with soft, worm colors. Carrie was curled into a ball on her chest, gently slipping into Terra’s cupped hands as she sat up to look around.
            The dream. What did it mean? It looked like Earth, but after a terrible fall she’d somehow ended up at the roots of the mother tree. But that couldn’t be possible, because she’d surely be dead, or have some marks to prove it. Nothing made sense.
            Then her stomach growled and pulled her thoughts back into the room. There was a plate on the ground, still warm, of macaroni and cheese and cheese. It almost made her laugh. Rats were a funny kind of amazing.
            “You’re awake.” Carrie uncurled on the bed and scurried over to watch. One cheesed noodle flicked Carrie’s way brought the rat to life pretty quickly, scarfing it down and leaping lightly from the bed to the desk where a small pile of buttons was collected.
            “I stayed awake for a little while to get these. We’re going to need them in the future,” Carrie said without explanation, and hopped into her open pocket to sit. Terra had come to trust Carrie’s weird whims and dumped the junk in the other pocket. It was time to talk to Norve.
            “I still think you’re making a huge mistake,” the rat grumbled as they exited the room.

******************************************************************************
            “What was that, little kit?” Norve lowered her fireside book and glanced over her spectacles. She had looked so peaceful only moments before, a few of her little ones dozing on the hardwood. Now her demeanor was tense--twitchy tail, smile too forced, body rigid.
            “…Slag Town?” Terra repeated with less confidence, almost whispering the question when the rat-caretaker’s eye twitched. Carrie may have been right about this being a bad idea, but somebody had to be brave if they wanted to accomplish anything.
            “Where did you hear about that, and the only entrance being from my home? Why do you want to go there?” The questions came out a bit too sharply, warning Terra to retreat. Carrie shifted but stayed hidden in her pocket. All she could find was the courage to shrug. She really had no idea how to answer those question, having been fearfully urged on this sporadic quest by a talking rat. Sure, getting out of here was Terra’s immediate goal, but why did it have to be this way? Why not go back up the massive tree or something?
            Norve took a deep breath and mumbled, “It is so easy to become attached to such innocence; You don’t understand this place, do you?” she added louder, turning to watch the flames flicker under the mantel.
            “In this world you are tinder, and I don’t want you to burn.” Norve said it with such tenderness, then added with stern motherly authority, “You cannot go there. I would never let you get hurt.”
            The genuine concern in the rat-woman’s voice made Terra feel ashamed for even suggesting and look to the ground abashed. Suddenly, the mood changed.
            “Come here,” Norve shifted and opened her arms. In a split-second decision Terra risked accepting the embrace as the rat-woman gently pulled her into her lap.
            “I only want what is best for you, little kit,” she said in a melodic voice, caressing the child’s head with rhythmic strokes. “You are safe here, you are cared for…so please, stay with me, kitten.”
            Those words struck her deeply. The urge to leave had been priority…up until this moment. She needed to get out of this strange place--back to a place she knew--but…
            Here, you are cared for…
            No one had told her that before, or held her and made her feel as safe as she did at that moment.
            “Okay,” she agreed, and slipped from her new mother’s arms. Norve smiled brightly.
            “Good, now back to bed young kit,” Rat-mom said sweetly and resumed her book.
            “Okay?” Carrie leapt out as soon as they were in the foyer out of earshot, looking at the other rats with suspicion. “You were just trying to trick her, right? You’re not actually planning on staying here.”
            There was only one question Terra felt the need to pose: “But, why not?”
            “Why--are you--don’t you want to get out of here? Get home?”
            Terra looked around and realized: this could be home. If she couldn’t remember where she was from, and who had cared for her, then did it matter?
            “You think because she promised you shelter, you’re safe here? She’s a time bomb, Terra! One wrong move and your dead! It’s my job to get you out of here safely, and I can’t do that if you stay and play Kitten.” Carrie said the last part mockingly, but Terra took the name with ownership. She was Kitten now, and right now Kitten liked how things were.
            A lot of time passed. She could have stayed in that home for weeks…or perhaps she only stood there for a brief moment that felt like an eternity. But eventually--either because she believed deep-down that Carrie was right about Norve, or because she felt unworthy to stay in such a sacred place--she eventually made her way back to their previous quest.
            “There’s a draft coming from the stairs, that must be Norve’s basement--our ticket to Slag Town,” Carrie announced softly, warily eyeing the sleepy bodies occupying the dark foyer.
            “Let’s go, while we still have the chance.”
            Meanwhile, a handful of slithering bodies slunk from the room and curled around their master’s feet. Norve rose from slumber slowly, listening to their whispers, struck by sudden fear. Then that fear turned to anger, betrayal.
******************************************************************************
            “I. Told. You. No.” Terra’s heart spiked when Norve’s voice erupted from the darkness. She appeared from the darkness and hissed, “You said that you would stay here, with us. And that means forever.” She blocked the path with her massive body, a wild and dangerous beast, and the only thing standing between a girl with her rat and the two giant stone doors at the end of the dank, dingy basement corridor. There had been a shadow following the two as they crept down the stairs and traversed the blackened underground rooms, only to reveal the rat mother who leapt out suddenly and angrily, halting their struggle to open the heavy slabs of rock.
            “I’m sorry, Mo--”
            “Shut up, you little brat!” Terra was cut off by Norve’s seething hiss, “You still do not understand the price at which my hospitality comes. I try to keep you safe, yet you continue to walk towards death. If you leave not only will that happen, but word will spread of the monster who showed kindness to a helpless creature. That is not the way this world works; fools like me get killed by mistakes like you…
            “What’s wrong little kit? You’re beginning to sweat.” Norve took another step towards her, making her gulp. She was still the helpless kit that Norve had taken in, couldn’t the rat mother see that? And yet, “Kitten” began to get a horribly sinking feeling at the murderous intent in Norve’s eyes.
            “I can’t…I won’t wait for them to come after my children once they destroy you--killing my family, ruining my home. My kits depend on me to protect them from things like that…things like you. I believe I would…I would rather see you dead!”
            Then she lunged.

Reviews

[Brian Shepard]

I'm not sure I can agree with the previous review. I think you've done something impressive here and I look forward to the continuation. Nicely done. Keep it up.

[JayG]

• My goal is to get better at it and gauge what others think.

Something to think about:

Since the day you began reading you've been choosing fiction that was written by professionals, using the techniques and specialized knowledge of Fiction-Writing. That fiction was polished and edited for publication by professionals. And after you've spent well more than a decade of consuming fiction written with those techniques you expect to see the result of them in action in what you read—just as others expect to see it in action in your work.

Given that, can one write as a “hobby” without making an effort to learn those techniques and hope that reader will react well?

That doesn’t say you can’t write as a hobby, only that you can’t guess at the techniques, and practicing the wrong skills only makes you better and better at using the wrong skills.

The thing we all miss when we turn to recording our stories is that 90% or more of the writing we did in school was nonfiction: reports and essays. So we left school pretty good at explaining things. But did one teacher spend one minute on writing dialog? How about tag usage, or the difference between POV as defined by personal pronouns, and viewpoint? If no one told you what the elements of a scene are on the page, and things like why they end in disaster for the protagonist, how can you write one? And if you can’t, will practice help? No, because you won't/can’t fix the problem you don’t see as being one.

Think about this: You would like to write well enough to please readers used to reading the work of published writers. To achieve that modest goal and learn a few of the professional techniques, do you, a) seek the advice of people who are unable to sell their own writing? b) Simply write, hoping that the needed techniques will somehow creep into your writing. c) Follow the advice of Holly Lysle outlined below?
- - - -
“Michaelangelo did not have a college degree, nor did Leonardo da Vinci. Thomas Edison didn't. Neither did Mark Twain (though he was granted honorary degrees in later life.) All of these people were professionals. None of them were experts. Get your education from professionals, and always avoid experts.”
- - - -
Add in two more quotes, one outlining a problem you face, and the other a fact that our teachers never tell us:

“It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”
~ Mark Twain

“Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader. Not the fact that it’s raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.”
~ E. L. Doctorow

So the problem you face is unrelated to your talent or how well you write. And, it’s not your fault that you face it, because we all forget that professions are learned IN ADDITION to our school-day skills. But still, you do need to address it. We can no more write fiction without more knowledge than our school-day writing skills then we can write poetry that way. Both are skills that have been under development for thousands of years. And if it was easy and obvious the rejection rate in the publisher's office wouldn’t be 99.9% of what's submitted.

Does that say you can’t write fiction as a hobby? Of course not. But like any other field, fiction has specialized knowledge and techniques. And if you truly are meant to write you’ll find learning them fun, like going backstage at the theater for the first time. And once you do master those skills, the act of writing becomes a LOT more fun. You’ll find the protagonist has become your co-writer, whispering advice and warnings in your ear. And until you’ve had a character place hands on hips and say, “Hell no, I won’t do that. It’s not me. Instead, I’d…” your characters aren’t truly real to either you or the reader.

So…to find out how different the techniques of fiction are from those given you in school, check a few of the articles in my writing blog. They’re meant to orient the hopeful writer. And if a bit of sampling makes you want to know more, download Debra Dixon’s, GMC: Goal Motivation & Conflict, via the link below. It’s one of the best books I’ve found to date on the basics of writing fiction that will sing to the reader.
https://b-ok.org/book/2476039/ac87b9

It’s a warm gentle read, like sitting with Deb as she talks about writing.

Not what you were hoping to hear, I know. But it is something you need to know.

So give it a try. And while you do, hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/