The Jessuish

Chapter 1

Darkness. Silhouetted figures followed. A choking tunnel crushed him on all sides. Dead end. Screeches echoed behind. Bloody paw prints, skin worn raw against the barrier. A gap above. Hollow eyes stared down. Unseen paws reached for him.

“Gaareth? Gaareth?” A familiar voice called to him.

His eyes opened, fuzzy with the grogginess of sleep. The dream faded quickly but he still shivered. The faded grey of concrot greeted him like an old friend wreathed in darkness. A tiny light trickled in under his door. It gave enough light to see. 

Barely. 

Gaareth stretched, shaking the urge to roll over, and go back to sleep from his body. The sleeping pallet under him was lumpy, and his ragged brown blanket released him reluctantly. He sat up in a box of concrot only wide enough for his bed, a table built into the wall, and a crate in the corner that would be a pile of pieces if it fell apart anymore. Everything seemed to lean away from the thin beam of light under the door, casting deeper shadows that reached for him. 

He rarely noticed it anymore.

“You up?” A voice squeaked through the crack beneath his door.  

Gaareth shuffled over, feeling his fur at the end of his ears brush against the ceiling. The concrot was rough on the pads of his paws, and his claws clacked against the floor with each step. A sharp sound that ricocheted off of the bare walls. He yanked the door open, ready to chew out whoever had woken him.

Roonthar jerked up. His long brown fur was tied back to his tail, and it shook like amorphous goo as he moved. Yellow eyes with black pupils peeked out from his thick fur, and a grin split the end of his pointed face. Two of his crooked teeth protruded over his bottom lip. A long silent hallway stretched on from either side of him. The pale glow came from further to his left, casting an uneven light on Roonthar’s face.

“Bout time.” He pushed his way into Gaareth’s room. Tucked under his arms was something wrapped in a black sheet. “Gotta show you this.” Roonthar’s ears twitched as he spoke causing the tufts of white fur at their end to bob around.

“What time is it?” Gaareth stifled a yawn as he shut the door behind them.

“Dunno. Sun should be up soon.”

“Didn’t sleep again?”

Roonthar didn’t answer him. Instead he popped the object he had onto the concrot table, and uncovered it. It was square, and looked metal. The outside edge had a golden shine, and inside that it seemed to show the concrot wall on the other side.

“Get some light.” Roonthar said, stepping back to examine his find.

Gaareth obliged. He shifted one of the outer legs of the table. The concrot twisted with a grind to reveal an opening underneath. He dug into the hole, and snagged a glowstick. After he cracked it, and shook it it gave off a faint orange glow. Roonthar snagged it out of his paw, and stepped up to the table. 

“Look.” He said.

Gaareth gasped. He looked back at himself. His yellow eyes were flecked with grey around his black pupils, and still half closed from sleep. They looked back at him from the wedge of his face. There was a fatigue that would have been more suited to if he had been going to bed. 

Instead of waking up. 

Around his eyes his dark brown fur was a wild tangle that spread out in all directions. He wiggled his pink nose, shaking his whiskers, and his reflection did the same. His pointed ears twitched, and the tufts of black fur at the tops rippled in front of him. He lashed his furless tail back, and worth, watching the muted pink of his tail swayed behind him.

“I call it a shiny square.” Roonthar said, watching Gaareth through his reflection. “Should help you comb out that mess you call fur.” 

Gaareth gave him a glare as he snagged his black comb from the opening under the table.

“How’s the leg holding up? Might crack at some point but I can make another.” Roonthar said. He bent to examine the table leg as Gaareth tried to hastily work the knots out of his chest fur. The concrot grinded as Roonthar twisted it back into place.

“Seems good so far.” Gaareth said as he eased loose a knot. He must have thrashed wildly in his sleep last night. He could feel the comb flexing in his paws as it caught on the snarls, and worked through them gently. He couldn’t afford another comb if it broke. 

“Being a Digger has some uses. It’s a shame so few try anything new with the concrot.” Roonthar looked at his own reflection as he spoke. “Can’t believe our luck though. We’ll eat like Overseers for weeks.” He grinned at Gaareth through the shiny square. It somehow made the room seem less dark even though the same amount of light still slipped in under the door.  

Gaareth passed the comb between his rear paws. They were flatter, and longer than his forepaws but still dexterous. The exposed skin on both sets of paws was stained dark from constant griminess. He patiently untangled the weave of fur down his body that seemed to be all connected.  

“You need it. You’re pretty much nothing but fur and bones.” He glanced at Gaareth out of the corner of his eyes, waiting.

Gaareth sighed then gave a half hearted chuckle as he finished combing his fur, and gathered it all together.

“See? Not so hard is it?” 

“No harder than anything else I guess.” Gaareth said as he tied the ends of his fur around his tail, savouring it’s length. Then he tucked the comb into his waist pouch, and adjusted it to hide it under his fur.  

Roonthar ignored him.

“Do you think Father Pardok was really the first one to tie his fur around his tail? Seems like a pretty obvious thing to do. In case we need to run.”

“Dunno. The Priests say he did it to differentiate us from the other clans.” Gaareth stepped back up to the shiny square. He looked somewhat presentable now with his long fur combed back, and tied up. He lashed his tail back and forth. His fur went with it, making his reflection undulate. 

“The Priest’s say a lot of things. I wonder if they’ll ever run out of words, and give it a rest” Roonthar watched Gaareth expectantly. 

“Hopefully.” 

“Oh come on. That’s all you got?” Roonthar huffed then covered the shiny square again. He led the way to the door. “No point standing around here.”

“Might as well get on with it.” Gaareth muttered mostly to himself, grabbing his pack, and following. Roonthar shot him another glare over his shoulder as he exited the room.

“When you gonna get a lock?” He said once they were out in the hall. It stretched on in both directions. A dim concrot tunnel lined with doors. Each one was a different material scavenged from the Waste. Gaareth’s was red, and he tried again to scratch it with his claws as it latched behind him. As usual the cold material was unmarked afterwards.

“A lock would just tell everyone there’s something worth stealing in there.” Gaareth said, his voice barely above a whisper. He glanced both ways down the hall. A glowstone set into the ceiling a few doors down gave off a steady blue glow, barely pushing back the shadows. There was the kind of silence Gaareth only ever heard when everyone was asleep. A vast emptiness that felt hollow as Gaareth trailed behind Roonthar. Their claws gave the only sound, clicking against the floor then echoing softly down the hall.

  “The Diggers have no imagination. The most malleable substance we know of, and still all our halls look the same. It’s amazing, you know? The Waste breaks down with a little pressure, and heat then it gets all goopy. Once it hardens it’s total solid.” Roonthar rambled mostly to himself as they passed by door after door.

“You’ve been a Digger for a week. Seems like you should be in charge.”

“A sharp jab from Gaareth. How will I survive?” Roonthar gave him a shove with his free arm. The black sheet rustling over the shiny square under his other arm. “I should be in charge. I’d build some new levels that aren’t dreadfully boring. Look at the Perimeter. It’s a mess but at least it’s interesting. There’s no rules out there.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”  Gaareth said. The hallway ahead was getting brighter.

“Dunno. Not sure I can do anything about it. Yet.” Roonthar paused, and scratched his chin. “You’ll see. Once you’ve had your ceremony, and you get stuck taking orders from slimeheads.”

“At least I won’t have to spend all day scavenging then. Feels like everyday is the same, and it’s never gonna end.”

“Ugh. No need to tell me again.” Roonthar groaned. The hallway ended in an open area where multiple other hallways connected to it. More glow rocks of green, yellow, and blue lined the outside of the chamber. In the middle was a circular section that was lined with concrot pillars around its edge, connecting the floor, and ceiling. There with just enough space in between for a Pardokian or two. Through the openings Gaareth could see the Spiral. A thick plane of concrot that descended as it went around.

“Must be real early for it to be this dead here.” Gaareth said as he followed Roonthar to the Spiral.

“Told ya. Sun’s coming up soon. It’d be slime getting through here with the shiny square any later. Probably ended up broken if someone didn’t take it.” Some of the gaps had small steps up to the Spiral where it was higher than the floor. Roonthar hopped up them, and Gaareth scrambled after him. The Spiral was wide, and built around a central column of concrot. Before they had gone half way around Gaareth was already able to see the next level peaking through the gaps in the pillars. 

“Now the Spiral’s a masterpiece. It ain’t pretty but it does a hard job. All those paws everyday, and I’ve never heard of it breaking.” Roonthar said as they continued their way around, and down. The only light that reached the Spiral was from the glowstones in the access chambers. The columns let in bars of light of every colour as they went around the Spiral.

“Does it matter?” Gaareth mumbled. 

“Yes, yes. I know it doesn’t matter. You’ve told me before. Doesn’t change me though.”

“That’s not what I meant. I was talking about the concrot. I don’t see what’s so exciting about it.”

“Course you don’t. You don’t see what’s exciting about anything.”

Gaareth didn’t respond, and the conversation trailed off. They descended the Spiral in silence. Occasionally other Pardokian’s came through the access points. They kept their furry heads down as they scurried through the Spiral ahead of Gaareth, and Roonthar. 

Eventually they reached the bottom, and the Spiral opened up within a massive artificial cavern. The concrot walls were sloped, and uneven. The pillars continued down to the floor, surrounding the Spiral, and through them Gaareth could see the four huge openings set into the walls. Two openings on each side. At either of the far ends were two more wide doorways that lead to Waste. The area was lit by baskets of glowstones that hung from the ceiling throughout the room. They gave off a multicoloured glow that didn’t reach far. More Pardokian’s scurried about between the openings. 

“Come on.” Roonthar was already walking towards the opening for the Econom.

Gaareth squeaked, and scurried to catch up. They walked through the opening, a wide tunnel that took a few steps to move through. It exited into another large chamber. They stood in an open section that was blocked off from the rest of the Econom by a low concrot counter that stretched across the room. On the other side of the counter heaps of items filled the room. Large piles, that seemed almost as chaotic as the Waste itself, stretched as far as Gaareth could see in the soft light of glowstones. A line had already formed, and they stepped up to wait at the end of it. Gaareth glanced at the price board on the wall beside the opening. It stretched almost to the ceiling, and was set with objects that had tallies next to them. 

“I’ve never understood why the wrinkle foil is always so high.” Roonthar said. Gaareth followed his eyes to the top of the board. A small square piece of wrinkle foil was pinned there. It’s silver material shimmered in the light. Beside it was a mark with eight tallies. “They’re not rare, and they seem useless. Glowstones I get. We always need more. Same with food, and water. I can’t imagine what the wrinkle foil is for though.”

“Dunno. Maybe the Priest’s do something with it?” Gaareth said. He scratched at his ear. It didn’t seem like it really mattered what they were for to him. 

“Maybe they wear it on their heads to keep away the craziness of the rest of us.” Roonthar laughed at his own joke then cut off when he noticed Gaareth was silent. 

He glanced away. 

The line shuffled forward. It was short, and after a few moments they were at the front. 

“Next.” An older Pardokian called to them. Some of his white fur hung loosely around his pointed face. The rest was tied back to his tail. The exposed skin around his grey eyes was creased with age. Something odd about him itched at Gaareth but he couldn’t put his paw on it.

The concrot counter was worn smooth from constant use. Gaareth helped Roonthar lift the shiny square onto the counter then stepped back as Roonthar pulled the black sheet off of it. 

“I call it a shiny square. What’s it worth?” Roonthar said. He watched the Conner hungerily.

“Fifty tokens.” The Conner said, barely looking at the shiny square.

“Come on. You didn’t even look. It doesn’t have a single crack.” Roonthar leaned forward, gesturing over the shiny square. “I’m sure the Priests will want it.”

The older Pardokian hummed to himself for a moment before looking over the shiny square more thoroughly. “Not a crack. That’s quite rare. I can give you eighty tokens for it.” 

“Throw in a bottle of water, and some meal bars, and you got yourself a deal. Otherwise we’ll take it to the Corproks.”

The Conner gave him a grey eyed glare, narrowing his eyes almost to slits. He huffed a length of white fur out of his mouth then inspected the shiny square once more. 

“Deal.” The Conner said. He stalked off without another word, his tail lashing behind him.

“I can’t believe you pushed him for more.” Gaareth said once he was gone.

“I can’t believe it worked.”  Roonthar said with a laugh. “We will eat like Overseers.”

“Almost would have got nothing for it. Would you really have taken it to the Corproks?”

“Waste no. They treat the rest of us like slime. We would have got more though but you gotta know how to strong arm the Conners. Otherwise they’ll try to buy the fur off your back for a token.” Roonthar shoved Gaareth again to emphasize his point. Gaareth stumbled then charged at Roonthar, tackling him to the ground. They rolled around, each struggling to get the advantage. Roonthar was bigger but Gaareth was nimble. He squirmed his way free every time Roonthar got close to overpowering him. Somehow he flipped Roonthar on his back. Then Gaareth used his rearpaws to pin Roonthar’s arms to his side, and he used his forepaws to get Roonthar in a chokehold.

Roonthar tapped out. 

They rolled apart, panting, and grinning at each other as they lay on the rough concrot floor. 

A giggle from behind caused Gaareth to shoot up, his ears twitching vigorously. A female Pardokian watched them with light orange eyes from farther down, and on the other side of the concrot counter. Her light brown fur rippled as she covered her mouth with her paws. Gaareth scratched at the floor, and looked away. He tried to still his tail but it lashed back, and forth behind him.

“Go say hi.” Roonthar said, nudging him with a sharp elbow.

“That’s Faarica. I can’t say hi. I have nothing to offer her.” Gaareth said as he elbow Roonthar back. “It’s your fault she’s laughing at us. Wrestling is for cubs.”

“Says you. We’re never too old for a good time. Besides, you haven’t even had your ceremony yet.”

Gaareth opened his mouth to respond but before he uttered a word the old Conner was back.

“Here. Take it, and go.” He said, dropping a small sack on the counter that clinked softly. Beside that he set down a bottle of dirty water, and two meal bars wrapped in a shiny material similar to the wrinkle foil. 

Roonthar grabbed the sack. He pawed through it. “Seems like enough. Thanks.” He nodded at the Conner, who glared back. Gaareth grabbed the water, and bars then they turned to go. Roonthar tucked the sack into his backpack as they walked out of the Econom.

Back out in the main hall the rest of Mount Pardok was starting to wake up. Pardokians scurried every which way, filling the room with the clicking of claws. He caught the edge of a few distant conversations murmuring in the background.  He noticed a few Diggers with clumps of dried concrot crusted on their fur. A Messer passed in front of him, distinguishable by their bulging belly. The space was large enough that it wouldn’t feel full until most Pardokian’s were up, and about. He’d be out of there well before then.

Gaareth looked down as two Overseers passed by in front of them, clubs swinging at their hips. They towered above him, walls of dark brown fur that surveyed the room eagerly. Gaareth thought he should be able to hear the concrot cracking under their weight as they walked. 

He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding once they had passed. Roonthar stared at their backs as they went. The Overseers pushed someone out of their way. A Pardokian with black fur. They tripped, and fell to the ground on all fours. One of the Overseers smashed a rearpaw into their chest with enough force to kick them over to their back. The Overseers walked on, laughing to themselves. A ragged sound that still made Gaareth’s fur bristle from across the room. He took a step unconsciously towards them, and felt Roonthar grab his arm. 

“Come on. We’ll only draw their attention to us. Let’s put these tokens to good use.” He said, turning towards the Mess. Gaareth lagged behind. He could hear the whimpering behind him. Every muscle in his body urged him to turn back, and do something. Instead he followed after Roonthar, shoulders slumped. He popped open the bottle, and gulped down some of the warm liquid to distract himself. 

“Oi. Save some from me.” Roonthar squeaked, yanking the bottle from Gaareth’s paws. 

They passed it back, and forth until it was empty. 

“You two look ready to work.” A voice called to them. They turned to see a tall Pardokian with dark brown fur, and blonde ear tufts walking over to them. He had a thin silver chain around his neck. A Corprok. 

Roonthar glanced at Gaareth. 

He shrugged.

“Maybe. What you got in mind?” Roonthar said.

“It’s your lucky day. We’re down two bodies for this morning’s expedition. You can come along, we keep any foil, and glowstones you find. Everything else is yours if you meet the quota.” The Corprok said. His grey eyes looked down at them. 

“The tokens won't last forever.” Gaareth said to Roonthar.

“Your friends right. We don’t often take on stragglers like yourselves. I’ll make an exception today if you’re ready to go right now.”

Roonthar, and Gaareth glanced at each other. They nodded at the sametime. 

“Let’s go.” Roonthar said.

“We’re leaving now.” The Corprok said. He turned to go, and they trailed behind him. 

“Thought you said they treat us like slime?” Gaareth whispered to Roonthar as they followed the Corprok through the main hall, weaving their way around the other Pardokians.

“They do but this will get us some fresh Waste to scavenge through. Might be worth it.” Roonthar said. They passed into the exit tunnel at the end of the hall. It was wide enough for ten Pardokians to walk through at once, and the ceiling was a few paw lengths above Gaareth’s head. 

“Name’s Taarnov.”

They gave their names back.

“Prove yourself today, and we might get you on again. Who knows, you could work your way out of the rest of the Waste in Mount Pardok eventually.”

“Is life in the Corproks really that good?” Roonthar asked as the tunnel branched left. They passed under a glowstone that was faded yellow.

“Only the Priests, and Overseers have it better.” He paused as he walked, glancing back at them. “You two look like your bones are ready to pop out of your skin. I haven’t gone hungry my whole life.”

“Lucky you.” Gaareth muttered. They turned a corner, and the tunnel opened up into one of Mount Pardok’s loading bays. Sunlight glared in from the far side that was open to the Waste. He wouldn’t be able to see much until he was outside, and his eyes had adjusted. 

Ahead the loading bay was alive with activity. Pardokians scurried every which way, preparing, and loading wagons that seemed to all be made of different materials. He could see the silver, and gold chains they wore around their necks glinting in the sunlight that came through the opening. Their long brown, and black fur rippled along with them, tied to their tails.

The hecticness made his head spin as they followed Taarnov into the fray. It was the creatures that would pull the wagons that drew Gaareth’s eye the most as they passed by though. 

No matter how often he saw them they still made his fur stand on end. 

The rochon were almost as wide as the wagons, and longer. Their broad oblong bodies were flat, and dark brown except near the head where they were light brown. Instead of fur, or skin their bodies had a hard exterior. Big black eyes reflected the morning light, and two antennas protruded from behind their eyes. They stood on six legs that seemed almost to skinny to hold up their weight, with their front two legs extending down directly from their bodies. Their four rear legs extended behind them, flat on the ground. It was their mouths that always unnerved Gaareth. A couple small mandibles extended beside a mouth full of jagged teeth. Some picked at the concrot floor, searching for food that they wouldn’t find until they were in the Waste.

As they walked through the loading bay the Corproks started to climb into the wagons beside the crates, and sacks that were piled in the open beds. Taarnov stopped before one. A rickety thing made of a reddish brown material. There were already three Pardokians in the back, all with dull silver chains around their necks. It gave them a bulbous look as it brought the fur tight around their necks before flowing back down to their tails.

“Up.” Taarnov said, jabbing a thumb at the wagon. He climbed up the front where there was a hard bench built into it for the driver. The rochon shifted eagerly in front of him. It’s wide body swaying from side to side as it chittered. 

Gaareth scrambled into the wagon behind Roonthar. It groaned under his weight but seemed sturdy enough. There was just enough space for both of them to fit in. Once they were settled Roonthar tried to strike up a conversation with the other passengers. The Corprok closest to them sneered at him, baring her teeth, then turned back to her companions.

“Guess they don’t want to be friends.” He said, grinning at Gaareth.

“Their loss.” 

“Couldn’t agree more.” Roonthar said, looking around. The rest of the Corproks were climbing into their wagons. “I don’t think I’ve ever been down here during this. Let’s get this show on the road.” 

There was a sharp crack ahead, and the wagon rumbled into motion. The bay was filled with the chittering of rochon, the cracking of whips, and drivers yelling at each other as they all tried to file out of the opening at once. Eventually a semblance of a line formed, and they inched forward. They rolled towards the exit, concrot on all sides giving way to open sky. 

The change in light blinded Gaareth for a moment. 

He blinked his eyes against the brightness. Then they were out, and picking up speed. The smell hit him next. An acidic rotting fume that burnt his nose, and made his fur stand up. The night sky had faded to a pale yellow, and he could see an orange glow on the riseward horizon.

A wide concrot road led from the loading bay. On either side the Perimeter spread out beside them. Mounds of concrot stretched towards the sky. There were jagged, or bulbous spires with no discernable consistency. Others were amorphous spirals that twisted his eye. Some were connected. Others arched forward, and then ended abruptly. 

In between piles of Waste had accumulated. Random objects that had been blown in by the wind, or dragged by Pardokians. He saw broken pieces of dark blue, green, and red material poking up from mounds of rotting organic matter, pink or black slime that was flecked with white mold. In other spots he saw thin soft material that had been crumpled up into balls, and beside that was strange round objects that were mostly black with the center circle being made of a grey metal that shined in the sun. Some of those were totally round, while others had deformities in the black parts that made them more lumpy. The Waste clogged every corner, and most of it was starting to break down into soft grey patches that would eventually become concrot.

“This is way better than scrambling through the mess of tunnels out there, eh?” Roonthar said beside him.

Gaareth nodded, not taking his eyes off the scenery as they rolled by. The road wasn’t smooth, and they bounced hard every time they hit a bump. The rochon was almost at full speed, and the wind rustled Gaareth’s fur as they picked up speed. 

“I got stuck in a tunnel the other day. After crawling forever I had to squirm my way back out when there was a dead end. Felt like I was choking the whole way.” The wagon bumped, and bounced underneath Gaareth. He could see the end of the Perimeter up ahead, concrot giving way to Waste.

“Slime, that’s rough. Have you seen the piece someone built riseward? It almost looks like a pardokian. Except it’s four times as tall.” Roonthar’s laughter was dragged away by the wind. 

They crested out of the Perimeter. The chaotic mess of concrot shapes transitioned to the endless Waste in the blink of an eye. Every colour, and shape he had ever seen was present, jumbled together so thoroughly that it was impossible to distinguish anything in particular as the uneven landscape blurred by. More wagons bumped along ahead, and behind them. 

Gaareth glanced at Roonthar. A huge grin split his pointed face. Gaareth couldn’t help but smile too. The rochon was hauling now, and showed no signs of slowing. He could see the one pulling the wagon behind them was foaming from its mouth of jagged teeth, it’s antenna dancing in the wind as it sped along.

The sun peaked out from the horizon. A sliver of radiant orange that looked ready to set the Waste ablaze. Gaareth settled back as he watched the sliver become a half circle slowly growing as the sun continued rising. The remnants of the dark sky gave way to dawn’s soft yellow glow. He drank it in until his eyes started to water from the brightness. Then he glanced back. 

Mount Pardok impaled the sky in the distance behind them. A massive grey spire that got slimmer as it stretched higher. Even here, it felt like it was waiting to crush him. 

“See. Ain’t so bad is it?” Roonthar called to him over the wind. He was gripping the side of the wagon to steady himself against the wagons jostling.

“For now.” Gaareth said to himself. The wind covered his words. “Yeah, I guess so.” He said louder. Roonthar nodded to him, and clapped a paw on his shoulder.

“You’ll see. We might not be cubs anymore but we can still make the most of it.” Roonthar dropped his paw, and returned to gazing out across the Waste.

The sun continued to climb higher. The yellow of dawn fading to the dusty red sky of day. They began to slow down when it was halfway to its peak. The other wagons had either pulled off of the road earlier, or they kept rolling as their own wagon pulled to the side. When they were going walking speed the rochon turned off into the Waste. 

They rolled along for a while longer, slowly maneuvering across the bumpy ground. The Waste squished, and crunched under them. Black, yellow, green, blue, red. All mashed together in a broken rotting mess. He saw piles of empty clear containers, odd black cube shapes that had open fronts with jagged sharp edges of a different material around the opening, rusted pieces of metal that were bent or crumpled, and enough other objects to make his head spin if he focused. 

The wagon came to a stop. It’s quiet rumbling replaced by the satisfied chittering, and gurgling of the rochon as it began to pick through the Waste for food. 

Taarnov hopped down from the front of the wagon, his brown fur rippled as he hit the ground. “You know the drill. Get to it. We leave at quarter half past peak. Anyone not here gets to walk back.” The last words were directed at Gaareth and Roonthar. 

Gaareth nodded back as he stood up, the wagon shifting underneath his paws. He went to climb over the side of the wagon, and felt paws push him from behind. The world tumbled by, and he landed on his back looking up at the dusty red sky, gasping for breath. The Waste squished around him, and something slimy trickled along his back. 

“Waste. Rotting slime. You touch him again, and I’ll leave you here to decompose.” He heard Roonthar yelled. There was hissing, and the sharp snapping of teeth above him. Then Roonther was down beside Gaareth giving him a paw up. Gaareth grabbed it, and climbed shakily to his paws. Beside where he had fallen was a jagged piece of black metal protruding from the Waste. If he had fallen on that… 

He shook his head, trying not to think about it. 

“Rotting slime. You alright?” Roonthar said.

Gaareth brushed himself off, something was matted into his fur on his back. He couldn’t reach it. Roonthar picked it off for him, and tossed it away. “I think so. Just missed getting impaled though.” Gaareth said.

“We gotta be careful. They might try something like that again.” Roonthar said, glancing back up at the wagon. It shifted as the Corproks climbed off, and by the time Gaareth looked up they were alone.

“I don’t get it. I didn’t do anything to them. For once I just want to not be pushed around. Is that so much to ask? Overseers, Corproks, the rest of the clan. It’s never going to end.” Gaareth didn’t realize he was crying until he felt the wetness trickle through his fur under his eyes.

“What. You think it only happens to you? Poor little Gaareth getting picked on by everyone else.” Roonthar’s yellow eyes narrowed, and his words hit Gaareth like a punch.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“All you do is whine, and I’m sick of it.” Roonthar snapped before stalking off. His tail lashed violently behind him as he walked into the Waste. 

Gaareth watched him go, stunned. He didn’t move for a long time. 

Eventually he snagged his pack out of the back of the wagon then turned in the other direction as he slung it over his shoulders. He picked his way carefully through the Waste, sticking to the sections that looked more solid. 

It still squished under his paws. 

Soft material that was often wrapped within thin bags. Some spilled open as he stepped on them, revealing rotting food that he couldn’t identify, chunks of red, and brown, thin stripes of beige that were tangled together, and some form of liquid that had colourful pieces in it. Others released a jumble of items as his claws caught on the soft material of the bags. Tiny fake heads with blue skin, and no fur. Broken pieces of cups, and plates. Scraps of fabric. 

Gaareth barely noticed any of it, only watching for the puddles that gleam with iridescence. 

He held his breath as he passed those but the tangy sweet smell still burned his nose as he wandered the Waste. The chaos of it all prevented any specific thing from standing out. It all formed together into a sludge of colours, and shapes as he walked on. The Waste rose, and collapsed never flat for more than a few steps.

He stopped eventually. The orange sun beat down on him from the red sky, and he could feel sweat pouring from his pores beneath his fur. He set his pack down, and started digging in the Waste with his paws, moving slowly; in case there was something sharp under the surface. 

He pulled back piece after piece of Waste. Long flat pieces of metal. Ragged cushions covered with swirling patterns. Round spheres that had a hard green exterior, and soft blue inside. They were covered in black spots, and squished in his paws as he moved them. He knew those were edible if it wasn’t rotting. Gaareth made a small pile beside himself of anything that he knew would be worthless as he dug downwards. When he found something of value he placed it beside his pack. A meal bar that’s packaged shined in the sunlight where it wasn’t covered in slime. A piece of wrinkle foil that had been crumpled into a ball so small he almost missed it. 

His mind was quiet as he worked. He wasn’t sure what to make of Roonthar snapping at him like that. He focused on his task instead, slowly expanding the hole he was in until he was his body length below the surface.  

One side of his hole was a shallow ramp that he used to haul piles of Waste out. He had found a wide flat piece of metal that he used as a sled, piling it high with mismatched items, dragging it up, and dumping it. He sifted through rotten chunks of organic matter. Here, a lump of a soft light brown material that was darker, and firmer on the outside edge than on the inside. There, a piece of meat that was charred black on the outside while the cooked flesh was blue on the inside. If he found something that wasn’t too rotten, or burnt he wiped it off, and added it to his pile.

He piled his sled high with broken junk. Thin black tubes that had cracks running along them. Small strips of rope that were frayed at both ends. Flat pieces of a clear material that were often cracked, or shattered completely. Those he moved with care, their edges could cut even the tough dark skin of his paws easily. There were endless objects that he didn’t really see. Every now, and then he shifted some Waste to find a glow leaking through to the surface. He dug around until he found the glowstone, covered in slime. He piled those beside his pack. Red, and blue seemed more common where he was working. He found one green glowstone too. 

Gaareth pushed back another layer of Waste. Clumps of a fluffy material that were grey with dirt, and grime. Beads of orange, and yellow that were cracked, and chipped. Clear containers made of a strong but flexible material. When he opened those he gagged, almost vomiting from the smell of decay that overpowered the stench of the rest of the Waste. He tossed those as far away as he could after he closed the lid again. 

Through it all were the things he needed to survive, and trade for tokens. A bottle of water that was covered in orange goo. Two more pieces of wrinkle foil that had been jammed inside a dented metal cupped. He even found a grey blanket that was less ragged than his current blanket, and not too filthy. He had only ever known the Waste. He couldn’t imagine there was anything else. A small part of him still wondered where it all had come from?

The sun had reached its peak when Gaareth stopped to take a break. An orange ball blazing far above him. He wiped the grime from his paws with a rag he kept in his pack, and smiled to himself in satisfaction. Beside his pack was a pile of valuables that he would not have found closer to Mount Pardok. Roonthar had been right. Scavenging in fresh Waste had its advantages. No wonder the Corproks lived so lavishly. He wasn’t sure what this quota he had to meet was but he hoped he had enough already.

After a few minutes he returned to his scavenging. The hole he dug was wide but he hadn’t gone much deeper than his own body length. He was small for a Pardokian so he was still close to the surface. If he went deeper what else could he find?

Gaareth dug around in the center of his hole, scooping Waste of his way. He reached in to scoop out more, and something clicked in his paw. He gripped it, and pulled, emerging with an oblong, and bulbous green object in his paw. His thumb pressed against a black button built into its side. 

Cautiously he released the button. 

Nothing happened for a second.

Green smoke shot out in a hesitant  sputter from a tiny hole in the bottom of it. Another second later, and the sputter had turned into a spewing cloud. 

Gaareth dropped the object. He didn’t know what the smoke was but he knew enough to not trust it. His eyes burned, and watered. He coughed, gasping for breath but felt like the green smoke was choking him. He took a step, and tried to drop to all fours to scurry to safety. His leg gave out under him, and he flopped over into the Waste. He tried to crawl forward but his muscles didn’t want to move. They were heavy, and stiff. His eyelids wouldn’t stay open, and he collapsed to the ground in blackness.

~~~~~~

Gaareth woke, lurching up, and sucking in air. He flipped over on his side, panting heavily. The sun was a quarter of the way down the sky from where it had been. He could see the green object a few paws away in the Waste. 

It didn’t seem to be spewing any more green smoke. 

He scrambled to his paws, and walked over to it. He grabbed it, and then turned, throwing it as hard as he could. He shook his head trying to clear the fogginess from his mind. He was still disoriented, and had to fight the urge to lay down. 

The sun was getting close to when they would be returning to Mount Pardok, and he didn’t want to miss that. He packed up what he had scavenged into an extra sack he had. A bottle of water, two meal bars in shiny packaging, several glowstones of different colours, and three pieces of wrinkle foil. Then he glanced at the sky. He still had a bit of time before he had to be back. 

Something itched at him.

He could see the hole where he had found the green object that spewed smoke. He cautiously walked over to it, and began digging again. This time much slower. He shifted through the Waste. There was more rotten food. Long green things that were spikey on the outside, and juicy inside. Round brown discs that had darker bumps on its surface. Containers that sloshed around with black liquid. Most of it crumbled, or squished in his paws as he dug. He shifted a black metal chair with a high back, and only one remaining leg. There nestled between a translucent bag filled with a squish white substance, and hunk of raw meat covered in black, and white spots of decay was another smoke spewer. 

He could see the black button on the side of its bulbous green form. He reached a paw under it delicately, and lifted it from the Waste. He opened his waist pouch. It was quite full but if he tucked the smoke spewer in along the side there was a gap where the button could rest without being pushed accidently. He popped it in there then adjusted his waist pouch so it was hidden within his long brown fur fur. 

Then he scooped up his pack, slung it over his shoulder, and scurried back out of his hole. At the surface he put his paw down, and something wriggled underneath him. He hopped away, raising his claws to defend himself. Something slithered through the Waste away from him. It’s long skinny body barely protruded above the surface, and Gaareth glimpsed its interlocking purple scales for a second before it burrowed below. 

Whatever it was, he didn’t want to wait to find out if it was friendly, or not. 

He turned back towards the direction of the wagons. The sun was almost halfway to the horizon, and he felt like he was racing it back there. He had no doubt that Taarnov would leave without him. He only slowed down once he crested a small hill of Waste, and saw the rochon roaming around in front of the wagon, munching on whatever it could find. Taarnov was near the front of the wagon, preparing the rochon’s harness. The three other Corproks sat in the back, chattering, and laughing amongst themselves. Roonthar waved at him from beside the wagon, and Gaareth scrambled down to meet him.

“Almost left without you.” Taarnov said as he turned. His brown fur swayed from the motion. 

“I’m here now though.”

“Yes. You are. Let's see what you got.” Taarnov grabbed a crate from the wagon, and dropped it in front of Gaareth. It hit the Waste with a splat. Gaareth dumped the contents of his sack into the crate. “That’s it? You’re nowhere close to the quota. Barely worth bringing you along as is. We’ll be keeping all of this.” Taarnov snapped his teeth as he picked up the crate.

“Please. It wasn’t my fault. Something in the Waste knocked me out. This was all I had time to get.” Gaareth raised a paw, as if to stop him. It hung uselessly in the air. Roonthar stepped up beside him.

“Doesn’t matter. The boss would be on my tail if I don’t do what I gotta do.” 

“Can I at least keep the blanket?”

“No.”

“What if I give you one of the extra pieces of wrinkle foil I got?” Roonthar spoke up. Taarnov glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Two pieces.”

“That’s Waste. It’s barely worth one piece with the price of wrinkle foil today.”

“Take it or leave it. Otherwise you can buy it back in our Econom.” Taarnov let the words hang in the air. 

“Fine.” Roonthar said after a moment. He dug two pieces of wrinkle foil out of his pack, and passed them over. Taarnov tossed the blanket at him, dropped the crate in the wagon, and went to hitch the rochon without another word. 

“Here.” Roonthar said, passing Gaareth the grey blanket. “Sorry about earlier. Things are bad enough without you constantly going on about it.” He added, looking down at the ground. His ears twitched as he spoke. 

“I know. I just don’t know what to do, and I wake up more tired then the day before.” Gaareth said. He took the blanket, and stuffed it in his pack. It would be nice to have something not so ragged.

“Me too.” Roonthar’s words were barely audible over the breeze.

“You hide it well.” 

Roonthar looked up, and gave him a toothy grin. “If I didn’t there would be two of you, and that would be dreadful.” He chuckled, and gave Gaareth a light elbow to the side. 

“Up.” Taarnov called from the front of the wagon. The rochon shuffled eagerly. Roonthar rolled his eyes, and scrambled into the wagon then gave Gaareth a paw up. As soon as they were in, Taarnov cracked his whip, and set the rochon in motion. Gaareth settled down into the bed of the wagon as Roonthar did the same beside him. The Corproks ignored him even though they were all crammed together now that the crates were filled with the day's finds. It looked like they were dozing off. How they could sleep as the wagon bumped along the Waste was beyond Gaareth. 

Eventually they were back at the road. Taarnov cracked the whip, and the rochon began to pick up speed. The Waste blurred by, and Gaareth was content to let it for now.

~~~~~~

Gaareth leaned against the side of the wagon back in the loading bay. Light from outside streamed in illuminating the distant concrot walls, and ceiling around him as the Corproks unloaded their wagons. He could feel the wagon’s rough material through his fur. He had looked around for a second, and Roonthar had disappeared on him. He’d be back soon.

Hopefully.

“Overseer Goornar. Got your crate here for you.” 

Gaareth heard Taarnov’s voice drift over from the otherside of the wagon. He glanced back, and stifled a squeak. He saw an Overseer standing head, and shoulders above the wagon. His black fur was matted, and unkempt even though it was still tied back. Taarnov’s blonde ear tufts twitched above the wagon beside the Overseer.

“Good. Wouldn’t want there to be any accident here, now would we?” A voice like grinding concrot responded.

“Of course not.” Taarnov’s words sounded forced. 

Gaareth dropped to all fours, and scurried towards the tunnel back into Mount Pardok. He had to get away. He dodge around the working Corproks, stumbling as he scurried under a wagon. The room seemed to fade behind him as he navigated the activity. He didn’t stop once he was in the tunnel. There were a few Pardokian’s coming the other way, and he side stepped around them then kept going. The soft orange light of a glowstone passed overhead. 

He burst out into the main hall. Pardokian’s scurried in every direction, and clumps of them had gathered together chattering. The noise was deafening. So many squeaking voices, and clacking claws in a contained space hit Gaareth like a concrot block. 

He breathed deeply, looking back, and forth.

For Roonthar.

For a spot of calmness.

All he saw was fur, and rough concrot. He noticed more Overseers patrolling through the main hall. They stood taller than the other Pardokian’s, and they threw their weight around, shoving anyone who got in their way. Most Pardokian’s gave them a wide berth but occasionally an unsuspecting victim got knocked to the ground for not noticing the Overseer soon enough.

The Spiral stood in the center of it all, calling to him. 

He squeezed into the dense crowd of Pardokians, pushing through a clump that was chattering incessantly, then fell in line behind a group that was moving through the hall. They turned off towards the Mess after a while, and Gaareth had to push on on his own. There was a rhythm to the way Pardokian’s moved through the mass of fur, and he felt out of sync with it. He kept pushing forward, and being blocked by Pardokian’s going the other way. 

The Spiral loomed ahead.

Gaareth charged forward, resisting the momentum of the room around him. He got caught in a group of Pardokian’s going the other way. He tried to squeeze around them, and bounced off a pack that was oblivious to everything else. 

Paws pushed him along as they kept moving away from his goal. He stumbled with them until he noticed the tail end of another group passing through two other clumps of chattering Pardokians. He scurried after them, and fell in behind them. In their wake he had a tiny space where he wasn’t being squeezed on all sides. They wove through the hall, getting closer to the Spiral. Gaareth followed along, thankful for a chance to catch his breath. Then they passed by the Spiral far to the left. 

He braced himself, and pushed back into the fray. 

Each step took him closer to his goal, and he was drenched in sweat from the effort. He was almost there when he noticed the Pardokian’s around him had all turned towards the entrance to the Temple across the hall, and to the right. It gave him more space to maneuver. He didn’t pay it any attention until he noticed that he could hear the clacking of his claws underneath him. The hall had gone deathly quiet. The Spiral was just ahead of him.  

He was so close.

He squeezed through the last few Pardokian’s, and charged head first into a wall of black fur. He bounced off of it, losing  his balance, and falling hard on to his back. The Spiral stretched above him, wrapped in pillars that imprisoned it.

Paws yanked him roughly up again before he had a second to reorient himself. An Overseer towered over him. He crushed Gaareth’s arm in his grip. Bloodshot yellow eyes pierced him. 

Gaareth squirmed, and the Overseer snapped his jagged teeth. He dragged Gaareth forward. 

Away from the Spiral.

Gaareth stumbled along behind the Overseer. He could see now what the other Pardokians had turned towards. They crouched, or sat on the concrot floor watching a group of seven Priests that had come out of the temple. 

The Priests formed a procession towards the center of the hall. Their creased white robes were immaculate, and hung almost to the floor. White fur peaked out along the neck, sleeves, and bottom of the robes. Their bare pink tails lashed behind them. 

It was their heads that grabbed his eyes. The fur had been completely shaved off, exposing wrinkled pale flesh. Except for their whiskers. Those drooped down on either side of their point heads. Beady orange, and black eyes looked down on the Pardokian’s before them. 

They were flanked by two Overseers on each point of a square around them. Hulking masses of black, and brown fur that surveyed the watching Pardokian, and pushed back any that got in the way. 

The Overseer was dragging Gaareth towards them. He struggled to break free, and only earned himself a cuff to the side of the head. He watched as a Pardokian leapt to their rearpaws, and charged at the Priests. Something shiny glinted in their right forepaw. An Overseer intercepted them, swinging a meaty paw, and knocking the Pardokian to the floor. With his other paw the Overseer caught the object that the Pardokian had been carrying. Gaareth saw a metal blade flash through air as the Overseer brought it down on the Pardokian. 

There was a thump, and a gurgle then it was over. 

It had happened so quick Gaareth almost thought he had hallucinated it.

The Priests came to a stop ahead of him, and one stepped forward to speak. He was so completely oblivious to what had transpired that it must have been intentional.  

“Who among you is worthy to give your life to Father Pardok?” His raspy voice was quiet yet somehow seemed to boom through the hall with it’s weight. “Your sacrifice will be the blood that pumps through Mount Pardok. All will rejoice your name, and weep your loss. Do not hesitate for now is the time of your salvation.” The Priest raised his arms as he spoke, and gestured to the watching Pardokians that surrounded him on all sides. 

 As Gaareth was dragged towards them he saw a few Pardokians climb to their paws hesitantly. They stepped towards the Priests. A few more followed them. The Priests welcomed them as they formed a group standing beside the Priests. They shuffled from paw to paw. Ears twitched, and tails were held. 

Even then they still writhed unconsciously.

“These noble creatures know that their strength is the strength of Mount Pardok. They give it to you so you may survive. Honor them.” The lead Priest spoke again when no more Pardokians moved to join the others.

The surrounding Pardokian’s began to let out frantic squeals, and screeches. Gaareth could feel his fur stand on end. It increased in intensity until he thought he could feel his teeth reverberating from the shrill screams. 

It ended as quickly as it began. 

An empty silence replaced the noise.

The Overseer shoved him forward. He fell to the floor in front of the Priests. 

“This one tried to run.” He heard the Overseer say behind him, a low rumble that weighed on him.

“Unacceptable.” The lead Priest looked down at him. His orange eyes narrowed further until only the black pupils were visible. 

“Should I put him with the rest?”

“He is not worthy to serve the Father.” The Priest said, biting off each word.

Gaareth looked down.

“His disrespect dishonors the brave sacrifice of his kin. It harms Mount Pardok.” The wrinkled skin of his head shook as he raised his arm. He pointed at a nearby Pardokian without looking. A female with wavy black fur, tied back to her tail, and white tufts on her ears. Her blue eyes darted back, and forth. The Overseer that had dragged Gaareth stepped forward, and yanked her before the Priest. She whimpered softly. “We all bear the wounds that our kin cause us. An act of transgression is a threat to our survival. This cub, and others like him, act thoughtlessly. Those around them pay the price.” He looked down at the female. Then struck her with a backhand blow across the mouth. She fell to the floor. Her fur came loose, and spread around her as she hit the rough concrot. The Priest nodded to the Overseer, who smiled a grin that didn’t reach his yellow eyes. The Overseer stood over the female then slammed his rear paw into her side. 

Thud.

Again.

Crunch.

Gaareth looked on, the slick wetness of tears dribbling through his face fur, and then he was charging at the Overseer. He didn’t know what moved him but he could take it anymore. 

He couldn’t stand there.

He couldn’t do nothing.

He leapt at the Overseer. 

The Overseer caught him with a right hook, cracking his jaw. He spiralled through the air, and hit the concrot a few paws away. He rolled to a stop. Everything kept spinning around him.

“We must protect our home. We must protect our kin.” He heard the Priest say from nearby. He couldn’t tell which direction the voice came from. It seemed to be on all sides of him as he struggled to reorient himself. Faces of brown, and black fur stared at him with yellow, orange, and grey eyes. “Justice is yours to deliver on this cub.” He saw the backs of the Priests robes as they began to file back towards the Temple. The Pardokians that had given themselves up followed behind them. 

Gaareth closed his eyes, tucking into a ball. He waited for the real punishment to start. For his kin to show him his place. 

Nothing happened.

He cracked an eye open. He was in a pocket of stillness within the hall. The Pardokian’s around him had gone back to their lives.

They weren’t going to punish him. 

Yet. 

Not knowing when it would happen was part of the pain. He had seen it done before.

Gaareth pushed himself to his paws, and swayed as they almost gave out underneath him. He glanced to the side, regretting it instantly. His head felt like it had been split open, and he wiped away a trickle of blood from the side of his mouth with his paw. His pack lay beside him, and he scooped it up. Thankfully the straps had held as it flew off him.

 Ahead, two other females with light brown fur lifted the one that had been beaten off the ground. They carried her in between them, looping her arms around the shoulders. One spared a glare for Gaareth with yellow eyes that could have cut concrot. He watched their backs as they left. He wanted to make it right but he knew there was nothing he could do.

No one came to help him as he stumbled towards the Spiral. The other Pardokian’s turned their backs on him. He moved as fast as he could, only barely managing to stay on his paws at a slow shuffle. He entered the Spiral. Other Pardokians moved up it as well. None of them looked at him. 

His eyes tried to watch every direction at once, waiting for someone to seek retribution. They would blame him for what happened to the female.

He was back in his room before he knew it. He didn’t remember walking here. Everything around him felt distant. Out of reach. Even his own paws in front of him seemed like they were someone else’s paws. 

He crawled onto his sleep pallet, and wrapped himself in the blanket he had found today, weeping until sleep embraced him.

Chapter 2

Gaareth jolted up, breathing rapidly. His eyes darted around wildly in the dim light that slipped under his door. He expected there to be someone in the shadows, waiting for him. Dreams flashed through his mind. He shuddered at the ones of being chased endlessly through the hallways of Mount Pardok, unseen assailants waiting for him at each intersection. 

The muffled sounds of movement came in through the crack under the door. 

They were coming for him. 

Gaareth moaned softly to himself. He combed out his fur as quickly as he could, and gathered up his pack. It was nestled in his blankets. 

He never left it out of reach. 

The door creaked as he cracked it open. Shadows moved in the hallway beyond. They passed by his door, without stopping.

A sigh slipped out of his lungs. They were just heading for the Spiral. He stepped out into the hall, and pulled the door closed behind him. He glanced left. 

A shadow waited far down the hall. The nearest glowstone gave only enough light to see the shadows outline. Gaareth turned, and scurried the other direction, towards the Spiral. He pushed his way down the side of the hallway, past the other Pardokians going the same way. Most ignored him. Someone hissed at him. He didn’t slow down.

Except to spare another glance backward. The figure was still there. It trailed after him. A large mass that seemed to fill the miniscule space. Gaareth squeaked, and pushed forward faster. It could be nothing. He wasn’t going to wait to find out though.

The glow from the access chamber grew ahead, forcing back the darkness. The steady thrum of paws echoed towards him. He grit his teeth, and squeezed his way through the remaining waiting Pardokians. He burst in the access chamber, stumbling into another Pardokian. He pulled back, and darted away before they could turn around. The chamber was full, and he had to stay close to the wall to move. The silhouettes of their furry bodies writhed, and bubbled like black ooze overheating in the sun. Chattering filled the space incoherently. 

He stood on his rear paws looking for a way through. Pardokian’s tried to push out of the hallways into the access chamber. What he could see in between the pillars of the Spiral made him pull back. A torrent of fur, and tails that had no gaps. He cursed to himself under his breath. This was the worst time to try to get through here. There was no going back though. He gripped his tail to steady himself, standing on his rear paws. 

There.

A narrow gap wove it’s way through the waiting Pardokian’s. Gaareth charged forward. He could feel the floor vibrating under him from the weight of so many bodies moving through the Spiral as he squeezed through the Pardokian’s on all sides. He darted left, around a pack that was waiting together, and jammed his body in between a narrow opening. He heard someone snap their teeth at him as he pushed onward. The gap seemed to be closing, threatening to crush him completely. He was almost there. He forced himself through another pair of waiting Pardokians. He had to keep moving. 

Otherwise someone might recognize him from the incident yesterday. 

He squeezed his way forward, writhing his body through the tightest openings until he popped through to the front. His momentum almost carried him right into the Spiral. He scrambled backwards to keep his balance but someone pushed him. A wall of brown, and black fur passed in front of him as he stepped between two pillars. The sharp clicking of claws stabbed at his ears.

Gaareth groaned softly. 

He could feel the Pardokian’s behind him edging forward. His paws slipped. He sucked in a deep breath, and tried to steady himself. Then he pushed his way into the Spiral, stumbling as he tried to keep up. He couldn’t get his footing, and bounced off the Pardokian ahead of him. 

The pounding of paws on the floor reverberated through the tunnel, and his body, merging with the sound of his own heart pounding. More Pardokians pushed in from the access chambers as he scurried around the perimeter of the Spiral. Jostled on all sides by furry bodies he could only force his way deeper into the spiral. It was calmer there since they didn’t have the continuous addition of other Pardokians. 

He was still being crushed on every side.

Someone hissed at him as he bounced around, struggling to keep up. Under it all was the ragged breathing of so many bodies exerting themselves in a confined space. He finally caught up with the momentum of everyone else. It was still enough to leave him winded after a few minutes. It blurred together in the multi coloured glow that leaked in through the pillars to the access chambers. 

They reached the bottom with enough force to rattle Gaareth’s teeth. 

The Spiral opened back up into the main hall. The flow of Pardokian’s carried on, and then split up between the Mess, the Econom, and the Temple. A rush of sound that filled the hall with voices, and claws. Gaareth stumbled along with it. He tried to push his way out, and only managed to stay on his paws after being rebuffed. The Pardokian’s surrounding him scurried towards the Mess. He scrambled to keep up. They passed through the opening out of the hall, concrot on all sides closing in on him then widening again into the cavernous chamber of the Mess. 

The pack he was caught in split apart, leaving Gaareth to catch his breath near the entrance. More Pardokian’s continued to pass by. The Mess was filled with rows of hard benches,and tables. Often all made of different materials. He saw a table with four different shaped legs of red, black, grey, and orange. It was topped by another piece that was dark blue, and crossed with diagonally yellow lines. It ended in a jagged edge, where the rest had been broken off for another table far down the row. That one had three legs of a shiny brown material that were straight, and one that was grey with a rough, and bulbous form. There were enough inconsistent colours, and combinations to make his eyes water if they weren’t covered by so many Pardokian’s eating. The air was filled with voices, chattering incessantly. Occasionally he caught a burst of laughter, or the sharp sound of someone snapping their teeth at someone else.

Gaareth left the entrance to edge around the outside of the Mess. He could see the lines at the far side, and they were growing steadily. He took a few steps before the Rotting Suns found him. 

A dozen cubs surrounded him growling, and hissing. They watched him with their yellow eyes slightly bulging out from their pointed faces. Their black fur was untamed, and matted. Most of them were miniscule, barely a quarter of Gaareth’s size. A couple of the oldest cubs were slightly bigger.

Gaareth stood on his hindpaws, and hissed back as he swung his forepaws at the cubs. He kept his claws tucked in, and made a good show of it.. They skittered away sporadically even though Gaareth’s paw didn’t come close to them, a whorl of fur, and bare tails, then rushed in when they saw an opening.

He was outnumbered, and the little hoodlums were fast. 

Blood trickled down his legs from a few nicks. 

With a growl he charged forward pushing the cubs around. They bounced off him, and shot back up, gathering together. Gaareth squatted low, preparing. 

The final charge was coming. 

The Rotting Suns rushed in together jumping on to Gaareth. 

He let them. 

As they piled on he still resisted, pushing the cubs around while they climbed all over him. Time to end this Gaareth thought as he scooped up a few cubs from his torso, and dropped them in front of him. 

Before they could react he snatched several other cubs that had bunched together on his shoulders then added them to the pile. 

There was one cub still on him. 

The rest sat there watching him. He could feel the cub in the centre of his back. Right where he couldn’t reach it. The nuisance had even nestled into his fur. It would join the rest when it was ready. He looked down at the cubs.

“You’ve grown stronger. You have proven that you will help make Clan Pardok stronger.” He said. The cubs squeaked, and pushed each other around. Gaareth shook his head. “Now, how did you all get so much stronger? Have you been starting wars with the other gangs? We agreed that you wouldn’t start wars with unprovoked attacks. I’m ready to hold up my end of the bargain.” Gaareth said. The cubs shifted around under his gaze. Two looked on the verge of speaking. Eroolli, and Toorok. It was hard to tell because they all had the same squeaky way of speaking but he thought Eroolli was female, and Toorok was male. 

“It wasn’t us!” Erolli said, her words coming out in a rush, and getting more shrill as she went on. “The Lost Scavengers, and the Ragged Paws formed an alliance! They’ve taken over the Perimeter, and other gangs are breaking to join them because of their strength. We had to defend ourselves. It was a massacre.”

Toorok talked over her. “We did what we had to. If we hadn’t attacked first they would have come for us anyways. It was our only choice. We surprised em, and got em good though.”  He didn’t try to be louder. Instead he continued with a continuous and steady stream of words. They were two of the bolder cubs, often leading the gang when Neeroth wasn’t doing it himself.

Speaking of which. 

He examined all of the cubs ahead of him. They were hard to tell apart since they were all some variation of the same cloud of brown or black fur with yellow eyes protruding from their tiny pointed faces. 

He didn’t see Neeroth anywhere. 

There was only one place he could be. The weight on his back squirmed deeper into his fur. Gaareth couldn’t snatch him.

He knew another way to get him though. 

“Well, it seems like you did what you had too. I know that you wouldn’t break our bargain. I have an item for you. It’s rare. I’ve only seen one once before. But I’m only going to give it to one of you once someone shows me that they are the strongest cub without hurting anyone else.” All of the cubs started chattering to each other before Gaareth had even finished speaking. The challenge didn’t have a specific answer. Gaareth wanted to see what they would come up with. 

A couple cubs stood up and hissed as they puffed up their fur as much as possible. Erolli leaped high and flashed her claws. Toorok started jumping up, and down. 

Something moved around on his back, climbing around towards his torso, and then down his left side. Neeroth dropped down in front of him, and glared back up at him as if they were equal height. The effect was only thrown off by how his eyes were too big for his face. He still locked eyes with Gaareth, and stood his ground. Neeroth wasn’t as large as Toorok but he had proven he could protect the rest of the gang with his wits. The rest of the cubs stopped their posturing to see what he would do. Neeroth held Gaareth’s gaze, and glared back for all he was worth.

Eventually Gaareth raised his paws in submission. “I see your strength, Neeroth. You stand strong in spite of adversity. That will help you in life. As your reward, I offer you this token of my scavenging.” Gaareth said as he reached into his pouch. He pulled out a small object that he thought was some kind of toy. It was like a little cart, almost. It had little wheels that rolled along the ground but there was no place that someone would push or pull it from. Instead there were tiny doors etched into the sleek silver body of the object, as if someone could climb inside if it was the right size. “This is for everyone mind you. No hogging.” He placed the object in Neeroth’s waiting paws, and smiled as all the cubs huddled around him to see what it was. They squeaked, and chattered as Neeroth rolled it along the floor.

“When I’m big enough I’m going to find the best items out in the Waste. You’ll see. I’ll spend all day scavenging. They’ll have to drag me in at the end of the day.” Toorok looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Of course. Once your fur grows past your tail you can come scavenging with me, and you can start your own collection.” Gaareth said, patting his waist pouch, and the familiar jumble of shapes there when he finished speaking. Toorok opened his mouth to speak more but another cub tackled him before he got a word out. They rolled off, hissing, and laughing as they wrestled.

Forgotten in all the excitement, Gaareth slipped away. He wove his way through the Mess, passing bench after bench filled with Pardokian’s eating. They slurped, and sighed as they ate, talking in between mouthfuls. Baskets of glowstones hung overhead, casting inconsistent light throughout the Mess. 

The lines were long by the time Gaareth reached the other side of the Mess. Pardokian’s waited restlessly. At the other end of the lines they were getting served by the Messers. They passed metal trays covered in brown mush through a wide opening in the concrot wall. He didn’t see any that seemed shortest. As he stepped up to wait in the nearest line he caught sight of Roonthar waving him down farther ahead. He scurried over.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.” Roonthar said, greeting him with a punch to the arm.

“The Rotting Suns cornered me.” Gaareth rubbed his arm, and grinned back at Roonthar.

“They really like you, eh?”

“Guess so. I don’t know why. They could find someone less useless to look up to easily.” He looked down at his paws as he spoke.

“You’re not that bad. They could do worse.” Roonthar nudged him, nodding at an Overseer. The giant Pardokian pushed his way to the front of the line. A couple other Pardokian’s turned to snap their teeth at him as he passed. Until they saw who it was. Then they dropped their heads, and stepped further out of the way. The Overseer took a tray right out of the paws of the Pardokian at the front of the line then walked off. 

Roonthar just shook his head as the line shuffled forward. “It’s like they like being hated or something.”

Gaareth nodded. He opened his mouth to respond, and to share about what happened the day before but the words died on his lips. He just wanted to forget about it, and Roonthar couldn’t protect him from everything. “You ever miss being a cub?” He said instead.

“Not at all. It wasn’t that great. At least it gave us a reason to interact with the females more, right?” He still gripped his tail as he spoke, stroking the length of fur that extended past it’s end. They were getting close to the front of the line.

“Seems like things were easier back then.”

“You say it like it was ages ago.”

“Feels like it was.”

“It just looks better in hindsight. I’m glad I don’t have to deal with being chased around every day. Some of those other cubs have bloodlust like an Overseer. Once you’ve had your ceremony you’ll forget all about it.” There were two Pardokian’s ahead of them still.

“What was it like? Your ceremony?” Gaareth asked.

Roonthar looked back at him out of the corner of his eye. He opened his mouth to speak until his eyes took on a glazed over, and distant look. He stood there, silent, and still.

“Next.” The Messer called from up ahead. Roonthar snapped out of it, and scurried over to the counter. Gaareth followed more slowly, and watched as Roonthar dropped to tokens onto the counter.

The Messer looked down at them with faded orange eyes, and large black pupils. He was as wide as Gaareth, and Roonthar combined. He scooped up the tokens with a grunt. Someone else passed him two trays that were covered in brown mush.

“More holy mush. My favorite.” Roonthar groaned as they walked away. They found an open spot on a red bench near the centre of the Mess, and sat down at the matching table to eat. It smelled faintly of decay. That didn’t stop Gaareth’s stomach from rumbling in anticipation. Roonthar began shoveling pawfuls into his mouth. “Where do you think it comes from?” He said in between bites, his words mumbled because of the food in his mouth.

“Dunno. Maybe they make it out of the food we find in the Waste?” Gaareth started eating more slowly. The mush had a burnt, and tangy taste to it. It was bitter, and sweet at the same time. He forced down a few more bites.

“I heard that this is what happens when we get old. We get turned into the holy mush, and fed to the rest of the clan.” Roonthar said, his words barely audible over the noise of the rest of the Pardokians around them. Gaareth’s head jerked up. It sounded like something Roonthar would say as a joke but the way his friend was staring at his food suggested otherwise. Gaareth almost choked as he gagged on the mush in his mouth.

“Is that all we have to look forward to? Endless scavenging, and then we get fed to the Clan? I don’t know if I can do it Roonthar.” Gaareth clenched his fist as he spoke. He pressed it into the table hard to keep himself still, and quiet. “What’s the point of being alive then? It feels like trying to force my way up the Spiral while everyone else is coming down.” He was shaking by the time he finished speaking.

Roonthar glanced around. The Pardokian’s nearest to them were focused on their own mush, and conversations. The Mess was alive with the sounds of life. Chatter, squeaks, snapping of teeth, and claws on concrot. It was a ragged cacophony. Roonthar dropped his voice to a whisper anyways. 

“There’s nowhere else to go. Even if we managed to find enough food, and water on our own out in the Waste another clan or the clanless could pick us off for breakfast. Not to mention what would happen if the Overseer’s hunters find us, and bring us back.” Roonthar trailed off, dropping his yellow eyes to his food. He pushed it around aimlessly with a paw.

“Is that supposed to make it better? That this is the best worst option. I might as well stay in my room until I starve.” Gaareth scooped the last of the mush into his mouth. It didn’t make him feel any better.

“Savour the little things. The freedom of scavenging. The strange things we find out there. The look on that Conner’s face when we got eighty tokens for the shiny square. It’s not all bad.” 

 “I don’t know how you can enjoy that stuff when everything else is so rotten.”

“Just takes practice. Stop focusing on all the rotting slime around you. You can’t change it. Change how you react to it.” Roonthar pushed his empty tray away, flecks of mush still covered part of it. He put a paw on Gaareth’s shoulder. “Maybe things will get better after your ceremony. You could get assigned to the Econom, and spend your days mooning over Faarica.”

Gaareth elbowed him in the ribs. Roonthar grunted then scooped the remaining flecks of mush from his tray, and flung it at Gaareth. It went wide, and splattered on the Pardokian beside him.

“Toxic Waste.” The Pardokian screeched at them as she stood up. The white tufts on her ears quivered, and she turned her yellow eyes on them. “You got slime for brains?” She towered over Gaareth as she stood on the bench.

Gaareth squeaked, and rolled backwards off the bench. He landed on his paws, and felt Roonthar tugging on his tail. He let himself be pulled away.

“Rotting cowards. Go on. Run.” He heard the female scream behind him as they scurried down the row of benches. The exit was just ahead. They dodged around chattering packs, and slipped out of the Mess. Roonthar laughed the whole way.

“She was fuming.” He said when they stopped to catch their breath again back out in the main hall. Gaareth barely heard him. More Pardokian’s then he could count filled the main hall, and still more poured out of the Spiral. Their chattering completely covered the sounds of their claws on the concrot. “Guess she didn’t like us sharing our food with her.”

“That was your fault.” 

“You shouldn’t have elbowed me.” Roonthar shoved him. 

“Stop teasing me about Faarica.” Gaareth pushed him back, grinning.

“Make me.” He stuck his tongue out at Gaareth.

Gaareth took two steps towards him, crouching low, and getting ready to tackle Roonthar. A paw on his shoulder made him pull to a stop. He saw Roonthar’s eyes go wide.

“Gaareth three hundred, and forty seven. It’s time for your ceremony.”

A hairless pointed head loomed over his shoulder, whiskers close enough to brush against him. Every muscle in his body wanted to run but all he could manage was to turn. Yellow eyes stared down at him. Crooked teeth smiled at him without touching anywhere else on the Priest’s face. He had never been so close to a Priest before. His body shuddered. 

“You come to us as a cub. Ready to be cleansed so that the service you give Mount Pardok is pure.” The Priest’s raspy voice sounded like metal grating against metal. His grip on Gaareth’s shoulder tightened as he turned towards the temple. A firm yank got Gaareth walking. He noticed two Overseers that he hadn’t seen before flanking them on both sides. Their fur was so dark they looked like two shadows following Gaareth. He could hear their fur swishing faintly as they walked on either side. Gaareth’s eyes darted back towards Roonthar.

“I’ll find you after.” Roonthar called after him. The crowd of Pardokian’s swallowed him, and Gaareth was left with the Priest. Each step felt like walking the sludge as they got closer to the temple. His tail dragged on the floor behind him. 

The Overseers easily cleared away for them. Gaareth glanced up at the Priest. He seemed familiar. Something about the way his beady black eyes cut through everything around him. 

Gaareth was certain it was Priest Punilish. He groaned softly to himself. None of the Priests were gentle but he had seen Punilish imprison someone for bumping into him.

The left the main hall, and crossed through the opening into the Temple. The light faded behind them, and the noise became an incoherent hum as it travelled down the tunnel behind them.

Gaareth tried to breath, to steady himself. It felt like an Overseer was sitting on his chest. Every breath was insufficient, and left him gasping even more.

The tunnel opened up. Far ahead candles had been lit, and placed around the stage. Their light didn’t push back the darkness. Instead it flickered off of the carvings in the long concrot walls, making them shimmer as if they were alive. More Priests waited in the light of the candles. They watched Gaareth with their bare heads, lashing their tails behind them.

The Overseers took up position beside the exit back to the hall as the Punilish guided Gaareth forward. They passed under a carving of Father Pardok. Gaareth could tell because he was depicted with light streaming off of him, and the face had been carved to give his eyes softness, and warmth. His mouth was open as he gestured, as if he was speaking. There was no one else in the carving that he could have been speaking too though. Other half formed figures had been carved in the background but it looked as if Father Pardok was speaking in the other direction.

“Father Pardok tasked us with maintaining stability in Mount Pardok. We are all that stands between salvation, and oblivion. It is our highest honor to protect all Pardokian’s for the Father. He watches over us even though he can not be with us. He speaks to the Gods on our behalf, and so he must be distant to remain objective.” Punilish spoke as they walked. He set a slow pace, and Gaareth followed along. He gripped his tail in his paws, trying to steady himself. 

They passed under another carving. This one had the disorienting blend of shapes that Gaareth assumed was meant to represent the Waste. Within the image he could almost see the shapes of figures. If he looked at it too hard it disappeared but when he let his eyes drift over the image he felt like he could see the impression of multiple ephemeral silhouettes in the Waste. 

“The Gods watch us. They seek to make us in their image, forging us through life’s pain. Our suffering brings them joy for through it we become more than we are.” They were halfway to the stage. It felt even farther away to Gaareth. “As a Pardokian we have the honor of fulfilling the Gods’ expectations. The other clans wander the Waste in blasphemy, unaware of their ignorance. Now this duty falls on your shoulders. The Gods pass their judgement on Clan Pardok by the acts of its members. Your acts are our acts, and anything that brings displeasure in the eyes of the Gods will not be tolerated.” Priest Punilish let the words hang in the air. 

They walked on in silence until they reached the circle of light around the stage. It’s black material was worn on the surface, and a white podium rested in the middle. The other Priests had gathered at the base of the stage around a metal tub. Their white robes almost shone from their cleanliness. They watched Gaareth with harsh yellow eyes. Gaareth was shaking as he stood before them. It felt distant though, as if it was the room that was shaking, and someone else feeling it.

“A cub comes to us ready to shed their skin, and step into adulthood in service of Clan Pardok and the Father." A Priest intoned with a low voice that cut through the vast silence. 

Gaareth nearly jumped out of his skin when he spoke. 

The Priests surrounded him. A wall of white robes, and bare heads with piercing yellow eyes staring down at him as if he was a piece of Waste.

"As water provides life it also cleanses the flesh of impurities. You will be cleansed so that you may serve Clan Pardok with pureness of mind, body, and spirit." Another Priest said. Gaareth’s eyes darted around, searching for the speaker. He couldn’t find them. Someone ripped his pack off of his shoulders. It dropped to the ground with a thunk. Another paw untied his waist pouch.

Gaareth let out a squeal as he was jerked into the air. A dozen paws gripped him on all sides. They lifted him more easily than he thought their old bodies would be capable of. He struggled for a moment, and their grip tightened until it hurt. Claws dug into his skin as he squirmed.

They raised him over the metal tub and dropped him in. 

Water splashed up beside him, almost spilling over the side. He had only ever used water to drink. The cold wetness on his body made him gasp. 

He hit the bottom of the tub hard, and struggled to get his head above the surface. He felt the Priests grab on to his arms and legs again. They lifted him up so that his head was out of the water, but they held the rest of him submerged. Priest Punilish looked down at him from above. His yellow eyes could have held Gaareth in place on their own.

    "Your transgressions were the act of a cub that didn't know their place.These mistakes will be washed away so they do not taint your contribution to Clan Pardok." Priest Punilish said. He had leaned into the metal tub so that his face was only inches from Gaareth's. "You are only as valuable as what you contribute to Clan Pardok. The Father watches over you, and sees all you do. He takes pride in your success, and your failures pain him. From this day forward you will not fail the Father. Failure will not be tolerated. You will Obey. You will Contribute. It is the Gods’ will. Otherwise you would not exist." The Priests lifted Gaareth above the tub. 

He let out a sigh of relief. That certainly wasn't pleasant but he had expected worse.

Before he had time to relax Priest Punnilish spoke again. "Your life is not your own. Surrender control, or it will be taken from you." The Priests forced him back down into the water. He tried to suck in a quick breath before he was completely underwater, and only ended up with a mouth full of water. 

He struggled, trying to reach the surface. Strong hands held him down. His body strained against their grip. His lungs burned, desperate for air. 

More water slipped into his mouth as he thrashed around. He choked, and coughed, inhaling water into his lungs. When he thought he couldn't take it anymore he was lifted out of the water again to be held suspended over the metal tub shivering. 

He gasped in the air as much as he could, head spinning as he did.

    "Your life is not your own. Surrender control, or it will be taken from you." He heard Punilish say again from somewhere nearby. 

He was slammed back into the tub. This time he didn't try to struggle to the surface. He knew there was no point. He held his breath, and waited. 

Even when his lungs ached he struggled to not inhale any water. 

It still got in. 

His body was so desperate for air he involuntarily sucked in a breath while he was still under water. He gurgled as water leaked into his lungs. His stomach squeezed so tightly he thought it would burst. They were going to kill him.

He started to struggle for the surface, and the air that waited there. The paws that gripped his arms and legs squeezed even harder, digging in their claws. Gaareth squeaked in pain, and more water filled his mouth. 

He was yanked out of the water again. His vision was blurry, and his head felt like it had spikes in it. He sucked in as much air as possible between choking out the water he had inhaled. He heard Priest Punilish speak again somewhere above his head.

“You are cleansed of your impurities. Your life is not your own. Surrender control, or it will be taken from you.” Punilish’s voice cut into him. Then he was underwater again with only the crushing grasp of the Priest’s paws to keep him company.

This time he didn’t struggle in the wet darkness. 

He didn’t move. 

He gave in.

There was nothing else he could do.

A burning heat filled his veins, contrasting the cold water on his skin. All he wanted was to drive his claws into Punilish’s skull. 

That wouldn’t change anything.

His body felt like it was going to break from the force of keeping still in opposition to the urge to thrash, and inflict pain on the Priests.

Bubbles slipped out of his mouth. He clenched his jaw to keep his mouth closed. 

The fingers of unconsciousness brushed him. A jagged need for air was the only thing keeping him from blacking out.

He was jerked out of the water, and dropped in front of Punilish, soaking wet, and shivering. Each breath hurt from the sweetness of it. He kept his gaze on the floor. 

Anything to avoid being thrown back in the tub.

"Your struggle is not without purpose. It makes you strong, and Clan Pardok can use that strength. From here on you are reborn. The cub you were is dead. Let them be forgotten. The adult you are stands now for Clan Pardok. Let this experience live on in you as a reminder of the strength of Clan Pardok. That strength can lift you up, or it can hold you down. It all depends on if you resist it, or if you give yourself to it." Punilish said before him. Gaareth shivered, and not just from being cold, and wet. He knew the truth of Punilish’s words. There was no fighting back.

Out of the corner of his eyes he caught sight of the other Priests turning away, and filing towards the tunnel beside the stage. 

“You will be assigned to the department of Service. Come.” Punilish said. Gaareth risked a glance up. Punilish had turned to follow the other Priests, his bare tail drifting lazily through the air behind him. Gaareth scooped up his pack, and waist pouch then scurried to keep up.

They entered the tunnel behind the stage, leaving the warm glow of the candles behind as they walked in darkness. Each step was agony. His head felt like it was ready to fall off of his shoulders, and he couldn’t shake the discomfort in his body. The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever, and at the sametime be closing in on him. Gaareth tried to breath, to steady himself, and that only added to the pressure he felt inside his head. Then the tunnel curved, light came from up ahead.

They passed through an open door into a long chamber that would have made Gaareth’s head spin if it wasn’t already. White blankets covered the concrot of the walls, and ceiling. The floor had another form of fabric covering it. Thicker material that was soft, and firm under his paws. Each piece had a different pattern. Here, interlocking triangles of red and blue. There, wild spirals of yellow on a dark green background. They covered the floor completely, often overlapping. 

Stands in the corner held enough glowstones to fill the chamber with an even light. No shadows lurked at the edges of the room. Other stands lined the room. Each one displaying a different item. Small statues that gleamed in the light. Large crystals of red, and yellow that had jagged protrusions. A bucket like object that was made of a smooth ruddy brown material, and covered in depictions of creatures Gaareth didn’t recognize. 

Through it all Priests lounged, chatting softly as Pardokian’s brought them food, and drink in polished bowls, and cups. They rested comfortably on piles of cushions, or long benches that had more cushions on the seat, and back. The wrinkled skin of their heads shook as they laughed softly.

It was enough to make the pain of his ceremony feel like a distant thing. Gaareth followed behind Punilish, looking around but not actually seeing anything. It was all he could do to not lash out. He knew that would only make things worse. 

“As a servant to the Priests you will be responsible for meeting the Priests needs. You will fetch their meals, clean their clothes, maintain their quarters, and anything else they ask of you.” Punilish said as they walked through the room, more tunnels branched off from this central chamber. Gaareth heard his words but he could have been speaking another language for all Gaareth understood. “Be grateful. This is a privileged position. Those close to the Priests can earn their favor.” He spoke with conviction. As if the truth of his words was evident. 

All Gaareth could do was nod. 

They passed into a smaller tunnel set in between two others at the far end of the chamber, leaving behind the light, and opulence. A small glowstone was set into the concrot walls every few steps, giving just enough light to see. Gaareth drifted along behind Punilish until the tunnel opened up into another chamber that was the opposite of the one they had left. 

Bare concrot surrounded them, dozens of Pardokian’s scurried about, and a few baskets of glowstones were placed around the room but most of the light came from the fires. A flickering light that came from gaps within blocks of concrot. A flat metal piece was set across the top of the concrot block. Hunks of meat sizzled at the nearest one. Farther down there were dark brown cubes that melted, and bubbled where they touched the metal.

He saw Pardokians drop robes into the biggest metal pot Gaareth had seen. They had to climb onto a small platform beside the block of concrot to reach the top of the pot. Steam drifted out from above the pot, and mixed with the smoke floating towards metal tubes set into the ceiling. 

It wasn’t enough. 

Gaareth felt the wetness of his fur evaporate quickly, and the air was hot on his tongue as he inhaled. Sweat began to trickle down his body. He knew what the hunks of meat felt like, and wondered if his sweat would start to sizzle soon. 

“Kul.” Punilish called to a bulky Pardokian that was overseeing the room. He slapped a wooden spoon against his paw as he gave a final order then turned towards them. His black fur glistened as moved through the bustling Pardokians around him. His orange eyes locked onto Gaareth immediately. With his tail he prodded a Pardokian that had stopped for a moment as he passed by..

“If you have time to rest you have time to gather up the dry robes. You know how the Priests like em still warm.” Kul said in a sharp voice that cut through the din of the room. He didn’t break his stride. The other Pardokian squeaked, and scurried off to collect robes hanging from a rope at the back of the room.

“Fresh meat.” Kul stopped in front of Gaareth, giving him a toothy grin. Gaareth glanced back at Punilish, and saw his tail disappearing into the dark tunnel they had come from.

Gaareth gulped.

“Ain’t this yer lucky day. It’s hard work here but it’s got it’s perks.” He looked down at Gaareth, sizing him up like food to cook, or a robe to wash. “Ain’t much to you, eh? Well the extra tokens for your new duties should help. You’ll get more once you know yer way around too.” He turned back to the rest of the room. “Get those robes out. We’re not making stew out of them. Hang em up, or I’ll have your hides.” He started walking through the room, calling out more orders. “Those food cubes are ready to flip. Don’t let them melt. We want em warm, and firm. Oi, you coming freshie?” He turned back towards Gaareth, slapping his spoon against his paw to punctuate his words. 

Gaareth squeak, and scurried over. Kul led the way to the back of the room. They entered a small tunnel that spiralled upwards tightly, barely tall enough for him to stand in. Kul had to duck, and the white tufts at the top of his ears still brushed the ceiling. They left behind the noise of the other chamber as they ascended the unlit tunnel, occasionally passing another tunnel that branched off.

“Shocked into silence are you? Understandable. Not every day yer life changes for the better. Course we gotta sample what we cook, and we can have the scraps. You’ll be as big as me in no time.” Kul roared a deep belly laugh that echoed back to Gaareth. He didn’t know what to say. He held his paws against his stomach. It was all he could do not to vomit. His head still pounded from his ceremony, and the noise, and heat of the room before had sapped what little energy he had.

 “Keep your head down, and things will be alright. Everyday after scavenging you’ll report to me, or one of the other leaders. We’ll keep you busy. Just don’t go poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, or talking about what you see down here, and there won’t be any trouble. We had a freshie not too long ago that just disappeared. Not sure what he did.” Kul spoke with the steady persistence of rain, not leaving space for Gaareth to get a word in. 

Gaareth had nothing to say though.

They exited the tunnel on the surface into a wide concrot basin. Gaareth guessed they were somewhere in the Perimeter. It was like being in an enormous bowl. The tunnel came out on the side, a few paw lengths from the bottom. Below them was filled with water. More water than he had ever seen in one place. He licked his lips just looking at it.

“Don’t ever drink this.” Kul put a paw on his shoulder, firm but heavy. “It’ll make yer fur fall out, and that’s just if yer lucky. Might be a lot worse. It’s just for cleaning. Got it?” 

Gaareth nodded.

Kul led the way back down the tunnel then stopped where another tunnel split off.

“That one’ll take you back to the surface. Come back after yer done scavenging.” Kul gave him a nod. His orange eyes glinted in the soft light that made it down from the entrance to the basin. He turned, and continued to descend the tunnel without another word. 

Gaareth stood there hesitantly, not quite able to move. He could almost feel the Priests slowly suffocating him on all sides. They squeezed every drop from his body, and still demanded more. 

Everywhere he could go they were there waiting for him. 

There was no escape.  

He wasn’t sure how long he had been standing in the darkness. The clacking of claws, and shuffling of paws bounced through the tunnel behind him. He scurried the other way toward the surface. The roughness of the concrot on his paws felt hollow. He could feel it but at the same time he also felt nothing. 

A light ahead showed the way to the surface. 

The darkness kept with him, not letting the light hold it back. He scurried faster but couldn’t escape it until he tumbled through the opening, losing his balance, and rolling to a stop. He lay there gasping for air. The dusty red sky weighed down on him. After the confining constriction of the tunnels the open sky gave him the feeling that somebody could be about to ambush him. The wild forms of concrot surround him, spires, and mounds that couldn’t decide if they wanted to be smooth, or bumpy. The concrot under him curved, and twisted through gaps in the formations. Someone could be watching him, and he’d never know until it was too late.

Gaareth sat up. Everything around him felt foggy even though the orange sun touched him from above the concrot shapes of the Perimeter. He shook his head. It didn’t help. Each ragged breath he took was forced. As if the Priests had their paws around his neck. He gasped for air, unable to suck in enough to fill him.

He had to find Roonthar. 

He could see Mount Pardok standing above the edge of the formations to his right. It’s blocky shape was disjointed. Sections along the sides had been built up over time, adding to it’s stature. It ended in a blunt peak that nearly touched the few grey clouds passing overhead.

Gaareth scurried through the winding passageways between the concrot formations. He ran parallel to a cliff on one side, and a drop off on the other. Below him he could see a winding network of ridges, and depressions. They wove together seamless, giving the impression that the concrot was rippling. In the middle of it was a structure someone had built. It almost looked like a miniscule version of Mount Pardok with the way it stretched towards the sky. He turned down another path. He had been this way before, and knew this would get him back to the base of Mount Pardok quickly. The path he was on crossed a valley, it cut start through the open air, and arced to to the other side. He kept his eyes up. It was not a short fall, and there was only more concrot at the bottom.

Below him he could hear Pardokians. Their squeaks, and squeals echoed around the valley endlessly. He ignored it, and kept moving forward, reaching the other side of the valley, and passing into a wide tunnel. The light followed him in, illuminating the spiral patterns that someone had carved into the sides of the tunnel. They flowed, and twisted beside him as he hurried through the tunnel. When the light faded behind him he could see the exit to the tunnel up ahead. A pinprick of light that gradually got bigger until he burst out into the open air again. He didn’t slow down as he crossed the wide open stretch of concrot that surrounded Mount Pardok. He could  feel Mount Pardok above him like a shadow endlessly following him. He kept his eyes on the wide opening directly ahead. 

“Gaareth.” Someone called him.

He pulled to a stop, looking around for the source of the voice.

“Gaareth.” 

He heard it again. Behind him. He turned back, and there just above the tunnel he had just exited was Roonthar. He sat on a ledge in the concrot formation above the tunnel, a disphormed lump with bulges, and crevices. His rear paws dangled in the air, and he waved his tail when Gaareth spotted him.

Gaareth scrambled up the side of the formation, clambering from ledge to ledge then dropping down beside Roonthar. He looked down at his paws, wringing them together.

“You alright?” 

Gaareth didn’t respond. He couldn’t find the words. His mouth opened to speak, to share of what happened, then he closed it again. 

“That bad, eh?”

Even Roonthar’s words felt far away. As if he wasn’t sitting right next to Gaareth. 

“It’s over. You only have to go through it once. Things will get better now, you’ll see.” Roonthar put a paw on his shoulder. It’s comforting weight reminded him that Roonthar had gone through it too. Somehow that brought him a small relief. Roonthar gave his shoulder a squeeze, and that relief faded away as he felt himself being gripped by the Priests again. His stomach lurched, and the memory of being jerked into the air then held under water. He squeezed his eyes shut.

It only made him feel more like he was underwater. 

Bile rose in his throat; hot, and swift. He had just enough time to lean over the ledge before he wretched out the remaining water in his stomach. 

It burned the back of his throat, leaving a tangy metallic taste on his tongue. He coughed, and gasped for breath after it was all out. Roonthar’s paw hadn’t left his shoulder. It felt reassuring again.

They sat there in silence a long time. Gaareth barely noticed the sun inch higher in the red sky, and below them the occasional Pardokian scurried to, or from the openings in Mount Pardok through the Perimeter. Brown dots a drift in an endless expanse of grey concrot.

“Let’ go scavenging.” Roonthar said after a while. He stretched out a paw towards Gaareth to help him up.