Swarm Hunt : Rat Kings

Story Prompt: Start, Investigate

My brother occasionally speaks of the lands beyond our borders, of the country in which we reside. It is unimportant, separate, a taste of a place that does not matter to any or all. If they do not worry about us in our little land, what need have we to worry about the greater one?

Perhaps that is not always for the best despite the best of intentions - we did not hear of the sewer rats, the whispered fears that forgot the future.

We were - are - not prepared for the swarms that have come, that have driven us from our peaceful times. We cannot paint if we cannot have peace, and there has been little enough reason for me to collect my paints that construes my job. We are warned against wandering alone, lest we are dragged deeper into the marsh and forgotten by all but our closest friends. But I have no one I care deeply about, save myself, and I find that I contain more curiosity than fear for this improbably threat.

It is not unusual to hear things on the marsh - it whispers and sings to itself, both a tired mother and and near-panic child. I know those sounds with such intimacy, though I could not say what they are or what they mean, only that they are too great to care about the likes of me. The sound I hear now - skritch, skritch, scratch, chitter, skritch - does not belong in a place like this. We see mice from time to time, but this sounds larger, harsher, and is as new as the news that the swarms come. Perhaps it is something else, but I have my doubts. Stay, or run? If Itb or Nysll had been with me, I'd likely have left, for it is not my job to put another's life in danger, but I am alone, and I am curious.

Always curious.

Story Prompt: Option 1, Fight It

Deeper and deeper into the marsh - have I ever gone this far? Of course I have, though not in this direction; there are ruins over the hill to the east, with boney stones that make the prettiest of pictures. But I have never stayed out while the marsh has held its breath, while it's teetered between crying and screaming. Too calm, much too calm, as those the very air is too scared to guess at what is to come. I should go back, I should run, but I have been been told that I am not a fool. I will continue, even if it proves to be the death of me.

Aya, but that's a bit dramatic. I have no need to fear death, for the marsh gives and takes. From dust I was created, and to salt I will return. If today is my day, I hope my bones will be strewn amongst the ruins, that I may find peace in their silent age. I doubt I will die, though, for I have no reason to fight, no purpose. I am here to learn, to grow, to know more of what is lurking around the river's bend.

I have no purpose to fight, until I hear the noise behind me, the noise that is not the scratching of many paws. I thought I was alone - I came out to be alone. I always come out to be alone, and Nysll frequently follows me. She is too young, too sweet on the world, to wander by herself, and Itb does not lend credence to her quests. She'd recently taken to bringing others, as well, Ghaoz and Heet and Diay and others, trying to prove to me that she is worthy of wandering. I am not her parent, her friend, or her lover - I bear no responsibility for her safety.

And yet.

There is no one else here, and she is foolhardy enough to put herself through pain that I, admittedly, would allow myself to go through, but it is different - for me. It would be my choice, a payment for greater knowledge. But she would do it for sweet foolishness, the brazenness of a child who has not had a time to learn that the world has many strange and wonderful things that can bring both misery and euphoria.

If there is something there, I must protect her. It is my duty as one who has found happiness in her presence, joy in her fervor for life.

I'll admit I am distracted, and when the rats suddenly appear, writhing and screaming silently, I do not notice until I do. "Go home!" I call back to Nysll, knowing with all knowledge that she will ignore my every word in favor of joining me. Sweetest girl, but she's exasperating. "It's not safe!"

I can almost hear the pout on her petulant lips as I keep my eyes trained on the oddly colored beasts. There is something very wrong with them, and even the marsh has acknowledged their sins. "Everyone just wants me to be safe, but I want to help! I can help!"

"Help with what?!" I can't help the snarl, my bravery turning to fear as another life approaches the line. "There is nothing you can do - nothing I can do. We need to leave, now." But I can tell it is too late - they are too close, too frenzied, too chaotic to let us flee without a scratch. One of us, maybe, but not both, not if I'm protecting her.

So I fight. With my small knife and untrained movements, I fight.

Story Prompt: Option 1a, Final

It seems to take hours, though it's likely only seconds pass - Nysll started screaming when she first saw the rat king, and I don't remember her taking a breath - but the beastie slows down as the bodies begin to pile around it. I can't tell if the blood on my hands is mine or its, or more likely some combination. Nothing hurts, not yet, except my heart. I've never killed before, never had a need to, and now I did it for another. This was not self defense, but because someone else needed me.

I prefer being alone.

My eyes close of their own volition, choosing not to see the mess and mass in front of me. This isn't who I am, who I was meant to be. I collect paints for my people and I find rocks with bones in them and I dream of a world where the bones live again.

Nysll comes up beside me - I can feel her movement through the cooling blood on my hands. "What was that?"

I hesitate to answer. After all, the more I talk about it, the more real it is. Right now, something happened to me, I raised my hands and they acted without me. "Something not from here," I choke out, my throat feeling as though it, too, is covered in another's blood.

She takes my face in her hands, gentle as a flower. Still a child at fifteen, but she put herself in this place where I had to show her something she shouldn't need to see. Something I didn't need to see. That was why our parents were here, to protect us from things like this. "Look at me," she says softly, but it feels solid, an order. "Open your eyes and look at me." It's not my choice, but I'm suddenly looking into her violet eyes. When did she become taller than me? Or, rather, when did I sit on the ground? "Edynu, do you want to forget?"

I shake my head and blink, confused. "What? What do you mean, forget? This happened, and we are both witnesses to it. There is nothing we could forget."

She tugs on my bloodied hands, pulling us from sitting, to crouching, to standing. "But if you had a choice, would you forget?" Nysll doesn't drop my hands, but just sits there, waiting.

"Yes." The word bursts out of me, against my own choice. It hangs in the air, accusatory. Now that it's said, it knows its truth, and my body must resonate with my guilt. Regardless of if it was the only option or not, regardless of if they were sentient or rudimentary, I feel guilty and I'm scared the guilt will eat away at me. I'm scared that I won't be able to look at Nysll or her sibling Itb without guilt turning into resentment, for I would not be in this mess if she hadn't been alone.

The young girl flashes me a smile, brighter than feels right, and kisses me on the cheek.

I look at where she's clasping my hands. They're red, a bloody red, and sticky in the lingering humidity. "Nysll? What are you doing?"

Her eyes crinkle at the corners and she bounces slightly. "Don't you remember? I was showing you some new pigments Itb made, and you got it all over your hands! You were so worried that they'd be angry that I think you almost fainted! Come on, let's go wash you up."

Itb has never been angry, at least that I've seen. Worried, yes, but anger does not become them. But there's no reason to doubt her words - after all, I must have fainted and forgotten everything.