MaNnIeS

The Shelter

So, 8 of us. We're all in here, and have secured a small area for our clan, the Canvasatorns. After my Dad. The entire shelter is pretty small: about 10 quorkshires. Basically, it was designed for ten families. Our house is 3 quorkshires, one for me, Moz and LaLa, one for Mum, Dad and Grandma, and then one for Uncle Samoin and Claw. We've gotten used to the space. Now we're in 1 quorkshire, give or take a bit. Not a spacious one either. There are only five Nookz. That's like beds with only one side open. I have this small one to myself. Then LaLa and Moz share one. Grandma has one. Dad and Mum have the big one. Uncle Samoin has the last. I can see Claw when I lean out: he's on the floor of the storage area, where we've put our food and water. A defender. A bit-

"Woary, do you want to go outswide?"

"No! I mean, Moz, we can't go outside. Not for ages!" 2 years. It suddenly seems a lot longer.

"Why not? Daddi will get wid of the nastwi cweatures. Are you scwared?"

"... Yeah. I guess so."

We've had dinner. Uncle Samoin has set up a barrier along the edge of our quorkshire. He doesn't want any other families to steal some of our limited space. Dinner was pretty meagre. A thin soup. And hardly any of it. Mum said that we have to make our supplies last. It'll be ages before anyone can risk a scavenging party. LaLa and Moz are already asleep. I can't fall asleep. I was within eyesight of those MaNnIeS. I've seen what they look like. Hardly anyone has done that and survived. They must've still been partly dormant.

You can see that they're made of dark magic. Nothing made of skin and bone could shimmer like that. It's like they don't even have a shape. Unless pure evil counts. Well... I'm gonna try and sleep.

"Hi Roary. How are you, sweetie?"

"Hi Mum."

"Roary... You know the rules..."

"Oh yeah! Hi... Alie..." There are rules to clan meetings. You have to address everyone by their official name. Or official nicknames.

"What are you writing?"

"Uh... Nothing." She sighed as she walked away. I hope I didn't hurt her feelings. Well, I think that I might go meet our neighbours. There's not much else to do.

I'm over at our western barrier. We're in a corner, so we have a Western and a Northern one. We're pretty close to the entrance too. The entrance of the shelter. There's a powerfully built female working on a garden. A garden is a good idea. No sunshine down here though.

"Whatcha lookin at boy?"

"Uh, nothing, sorry."

She has a really deep growly voice, like she would rip out your throat as soon as look at you. Though grandma has the same voice, and she's never hurt anything except for a particularly irritating flea, and then she cried afterwards. However, I know grandma, but I don't know this lioness, so I'm not taking any chances.

At our Northern border there's another lion family. Their northern border is squeezed up against the shelter's entrance: not a good spot. There's an elderly male here, tending to the floor, giving it a good washdown. I think I'll introduce myself. Have to do it formally: need to send the message not to mess with our clan, that's what Dad always says.

"Hello, neighbour. I am Roarsaener of the Canvasatorn clan-"

He's leaping at me with fangs like steel, and claws to match, with a roar to rival Uncle Samoin's. I think he's going to cut me in half, but he stops when he reaches the barrier.

"Huh?"

He sniffs. "Common courtesy, to stop at ones border. But I have half a mind to... Humpf..." He's got a really high-pitched, wheezy voice, the exact opposite of his roar. "So young whippersnapper, do you know what you've done wrong?"

"Uh... No?..."

"Of course. No manners, the younguns these days. And their parents don't even try to fix the problem."

He fixes me with a stare that could freeze a desert. "If you're one o those youngins who's lost their parents, I just dare you to start crying out your halfmannered eyeballs."

"Uh, no, my, my parents are fine."

"Then why haven't they taught ya that the word 'uh' is an irrespectible rudeness."

"U- well, they... I guess they didn't think about it?"

He shot back with surprising speed. "You guess? Never guess, youngon, it lets the whole clan down. You must always KNOW."

"Um... But what if you don't know?"

"Firstly, 'um' is just a badly pro-nounced 'uh'. Secondly, if you don't know, guess."

"But you said not to guess!"

"Well, there's where you know your guess, youngen," his eyes are sparkling like diamonds now. "If ya don't know, you guess. And then you know what ya've guessed and let people guess that you hundred-per-cent KNOW. Then ya know."

"Know... What?"

"Ya know that ya didn't guess beause ya knew it all along!"

"What if ya didn't know it all along?"

He sighs again. "Youngeon minds just slow down over time. Keep up the questions though. They might be dumb now, but we'll get 'em up to scratch."

"We?"

He flung back his wiry mane, stuck out his chest and announced, "Ah am TouLong o' the Draegon clan! You shall know me as Sir TouLong, or just Sir! Ah will now go tend'a my floor." With a stiff half-curtesy, he strode off. "Ah'll see you t'morrow, young Roarsaener." "?... Tomorrow, Sir TouLong!" I threw out my chest and gave a smart(ish) salute. He grinned.