His Other Half (KiriBaku)

Chapter 2

September 17, XX84
-Off in the middle of nowhere-

        Rat decided he liked the woods.

        Sure, they tended to get chilly at night, and he had no one to talk to, but he didn't really talk much anyways, and the mere ability to move around as much as he wanted was cause for celebration. He had found a nice place to sleep, in a surprisingly large hollow under a tree, and it was dry and warm and cozy, even though it was right next to a clean stream.

        The stream used to have lots of big, fat fish, but then Rat took his first bath in seven years, and now there were only a few.

        He had no shirt or shoes and his pants were all tattered, but Rat found that he was happy. Sort of. He still wanted to find his home, and of course, he was upset that Kurogiri had made such a grievous mistake, but his new arrangements were leagues better than anything he'd ever known.

        Rat sat on the bank of the stream, letting his toes dip in the water as he looked at his reflection on the surface. He grinned at himself, liking the way his sharky smile grinned back at him. His hair had grown out over the past few months, feathering out around his ears and hanging more in his face than usual. Sleeping outside had made his hair all pointy and greasy, and it stuck up at weird, sharp angles. He supposed he would've had a beard by now, too, but he'd found a knife by the path, and that was easy enough to use.

        Rat tilted his head, watching his water self. Smiling again, he dipped his hands into the stream, washing off the last of a thick red liquid.

        Change was good. Rat liked change. Change just happened to include the help of the poor berry bushes on the other side of the meadow and powder from crushed bones washed into his hair until it stayed. His hair was a bright ruby red now, and he liked it.

        His stomach growled, interrupting his serenity, and he frowned at it. He hadn't eaten today or yesterday. Food was unpredictable, and Rat supposed it would have been a lot harder to come by if he hadn't fallen near the path.

        The path was glorious, and very helpful too. Every other day or so, other people would pass by with large wagons filled with strange shapes and colors. Weapons and clothes Rat recognized easily enough, but most importantly, food. They had so much, why should they care what little bit Rat took for himself?

        Evidently, though, they did care. Some were willing to part with their wares all too eagerly, and Rat recognized fear swimming in their eyes. Those kinds of people held out small leather sacks to him, but he was very certain he couldn't eat the small bits of gold they called money. Others made grabs for swords or bows, and we usually quick to surrender when they realized that Rat was no stranger to a fight and did not appreciate blades in his face. They had plenty of food, enough to last them till winter, even, so why did they struggle against parting with some?

        Rat conceded that maybe his inability to speak hindered his communication skills. He could speak, of course, but it made his throat hurt, and his voice was all scratchy after not having used it for so long. He'd once said 'hello' and it came out as 'grr!' and the man he was trying to talk to wet himself, so he hadn't tried again. At least he remembered English, though.

        Another noise disrupted his thoughts, and Rat instinctively shrank back into the shrubbery. Hooves on the dirt path, wheels squeaking on their poles. He listened for the creak of wood straining under the weight of boxes and barrels, but it was strangely absent.

        He cocked his head to the side. That wasn't a wagon. That was a carriage.

        Rat didn't know what was so special about carriages, and he was sure he'd never seen one before so he didn't know how he'd recognized it, but the sight of it had him bouncy and energetic. He ran for it through the trees, stopping only for a moment to retrieve his old muzzle from his hollow. It was strangely instinctive for him to cover his face, and he'd kept it as a reminder to be grateful for what little he managed to have.