Rat

Sack

Life is hard as a rodent. Perhaps life is hard everywhere, but nobody seems to be upset with the brightly coloured birds, and nobody seems to notice the lowly crawling insects that keep to the grass. Some animals held in higher regard than others; some are held in no regard at all.

And then there are creatures like me. We are hated. Despised. Loathed. That is not me being dramatic; it is fact.

And the fact is I have been caught by something that loathes me, and I know they plan to kill me.

I am in a pouch of some kind. I do not know what it is made of, as it is not something I have ever encountered before. The beasts have made it; it is one of theirs.

They caught me in a simple trap made of sticks and a ledge. I was hunting food--I am always hunting food--and I stepped on the wrong stick and then I fell into the pouch. I struggled and tried to get out, but it was never going to happen. There was nowhere to get out too. The pouch is now my world.

And I am not the only thing in it.

There is something hard in here with me: a rock of some kind, but it looks like the kind of stones the beasts use to build their gigantic nests. It jostles with me, and every time it touches me it stings. I cannot avoid it: we both fall to the bottom of the pouch every time it shakes.

It is shaking because we are being carried.

A beast has us. I can see its shadow. It is carrying us in its meaty paw towards... Well, I don't know where. Somewhere bad, that is all I know. My doom.

I am carried for a long while. I can hear his padded footsteps on the dirt. They make a rhythm that lulls me into something close to sleep.

And then he throws me.

I have a moment of pure terror as vertigo grabs me. I float in the air for a second or so, and then we hit something hard... And then we sink.

Water. We are in water.

Panic grips me. I grab at the pouch even as I know it will do me no good. Water flows in through the little gaps and we are soon flooded. The stone--the dreaded stone--pulls us down. Now I know why it is there: it is a part of the plan to murder me.

I am completely submerged now. The pouch is tied tight. I can see where I would escape, if I could escape, but my paws are no match for the seal. I am stuck. I cannot breathe. I cannot see.

It is dark, so very dark. But I must not give up. If I give up, then death will come for me--and sooner rather than later. I keep struggling.

Then I tear the pouch. It is not much, but I can feel the cold water beyond the pouch as my paw rips through. I stretch both front paws into the gap, stretch some more. My head gets through. I cannot breathe. I cannot breathe. My body gets through, and then a hind paw. I cannot breathe. I cannot breathe.

Then I am free. I am sinking, but I am free!

I scamper across cold, wet rocks underneath a torrent of water. I kick and scamper. I cannot breathe. I cannot breathe. I open my mouth--pure reflex, and a deadly one. Freezing water flows into my lungs. My eyes bulge wide. The terror I had experienced before is nothing to what I experience now. It is like lightning in my veins.

I have a resurgence of energy. I kick out, start to swim. I can see a shimmering light above me--the surface. I kick some more.

I break through. I gasp, cough, splutter. I taste air. I cannot see. The water is in my eyes. Blind, I scamper for the bank. I find it and collapse. I am exhausted.

I am a drowned rat no more.