Rat

Dark

Nobody can avoid politics. I now know this, and it scares me. I thought I could--I didn't even know what politics was until I joined the pack. I had just been a lone creature, sometimes with a mate, sometimes with young. Now I was in a tribe and the tribe did what the tribe wanted.

But what did they want? That was where politics came into play.

Some wanted to venture deeper into the beasts' forest. I did not want to. Some wanted to spend less time hunting for food. I did not want to. Some wanted to take over one of the beasts' nests. I did not want to.

And some others wanted to return to the rolling fields that I knew so well. I wanted to do that. I wanted to breathe fresh air and smell fresh grass and live in dirt and straw. I wanted to go back.

But the tribe could not agree.

There was a scuffle. I am not sure which side lost--in truth, I suspect both sides lost. In any event, we have now fractured into two tribes. One is a little smaller than the other. I am in the smaller tribe.

It is good that both new tribes wanted different things, because it is clear that we could not stay united when we were so clearly split. And so my new tribe headed out on its own. Even though we were smaller than we were before, we were still formidable. We had the same issues, too: mainly, food. There was not enough for all of us. Some of us would get sick and die if we did not solve this.

It is tempting to think that returning to the natural world--and escaping this monolithic hellhole that has consumed us and swallowed out best natures--would fix the problem. I do not think it will. Food is scarce at the best of times, and times such as this, when the air is cold and the ground colder, food is more scarce than ever.

I am lucky: I am not the biggest, and I am not the smallest. I will get my share of food but nothing more, but I will get my share. I have been tempted to share with the smaller creatures, but it has never been well-received. They try and bully me for more until I have to fight and earn my respect back. This is not in my nature. I prefer peace to violence.

But we are hungry, and we are far from home. This stone land stretches as far as we can see. Further, even. The smells are disorienting, the light works in mysterious ways. I fear we are lost.

But we must eat. The days and the nights stretch longer and longer. My stomach growls in unified chorus with the others. I fear that death will come to us sooner than later.

Some of us have already succumbed: there is brightly coloured scraps of food here and there. It is scattered with abandon. Where it comes from, I don't know. I have not tasted it, but others have--they are greedy, and they do not share. At first, I was angry with them but then I learned that I was really the lucky one. They died a horrible death. Not at first: no, it took a long time for them to die.

We would gather in a circle and watch as they shook and writhed and fell on their backs. Their cries were painful, and the skin around their mouths pulled back and exposed their gums. This was all we could do: watch. And still we did not learn. Others ate these strange fruits, and all of them suffered the same fate. Death, and a painful one.

So our tribe grows ever smaller. And still we are lost. I am resigned. Death comes for us all. Tomorrow, it will come for me.