1 Catching Mice

A hooded figure dressed in black tattered robes made his way, slowly, through a forest of trees. The trees were colossal and formed a sharp contrast with the tiny fleet footed boy, who jumped from branch to branch with an agility and strength unbefitting his age. He moved quickly through the cold, damp forest and seemed to move even quicker with every passing second. He had to make haste, the nearly indiscernible odor of rot which had descended upon the forest could mean anything but good.

After a while he stopped and perched on the low branch of an underbrush tree like a primal ape. From underneath his hood, a pair of light green eyes gleaming with caution surveyed the surrounding area. The place where he stopped was extremely weird, not far from the tree was a large spot on the ground devoid of vegetation. Some parts of it were of eerie darkness that seemed to be of unfathomable depth but the rest shone like deep black ink. Bubbles continually emerged from it like a vat of water being boiled, and these bubbles burst on the surface releasing a faint greyish gas. The boy gritted his teeth and leapt from the branch on which he stood. While a drop from such height would have surely resulted in broken bones, the boy was completely unaffected and remained bright eyed.

Wading through the dense underbrush he made his way to a place close to the boiling black inky substance. This place was an ample distance from the boiling pit and the soil still retained enough nutrients to support the survival of a few hardy weeds. If one looked at it very closely however, they would notice the bushes seemed to be a bit peculiar and slightly uneven.

Muttering a little prayer the boy cleared out the bushes and smiled when he noticed a mouse stuck in a simple looking trap overhanging across a narrow burrow.

It had long since stopped struggling in the trap. Hanging feebly; the mouse could only content itself with snarling at the hooded boy. Its glowing red eyes were filled with rage, and its v-shaped snout rose to expose four dangerously long incisors. While this creature was labeled a mouse by the rest of the villagers, the boy secretly knew it was a bit off the mark considering the appearance of the beast. The mice was as long as the boy's entire arm, a peculiar length for a forest mice, and was dotted with weird disgusting looking lumps which came in all shades of blue. Although it was alive, it smelled horribly of rot and parts of its body seemed to have fallen off from excessive decay.

The boy didn't care about the rat's disgusting appearance; instead he felt a rush of joy envelop his entire body when he saw the creature. Reaching out his hand, he broke its neck which was already bald all the way to the bone from excessive rot. After resetting the trap and arranging the bushes, the boy hurriedly climbed up a short tree and unfolded a cloth previously tied to his side.

A horrid smell filled the air as three similar mice were exposed from the dirty cloth. The boy carefully bundled the new mouse with the others and bound the package lightly. Glancing around, he stored a mental image of the underbrush and slowly made his way back.

He was a long ways away from home when he stopped moving once again. Glancing forwards, a feeling of discontent and anger rose up within him but he quickly suppressed it. This was not the time to feel disgruntled but an interval in which time itself was of the essence. He unfurled the package around him and threw two of the mice into a distant bush that was void of the chirping of small creatures, he removed the third one and bound up the remaining mouse, shoving it into his ragged pants. His hands moved with a definite rhythm and his eyes were apathetic, he was all too familiar with this process.

He jumped from the branch and took off in the opposite direction to the thrown mice, but soon stopped when surrounded by two men and one woman perched on low branches.

They were all tall but very skinny, mostly skin and bones, and had very little clothing around their bare bodies. Although the woman had more clothing covering her skin than the two men combined, it still left very little to the imagination. Small purple lumps with odd shapes dotted their exposed skin in a random pattern, leaving them with a grotesque look. The woman seemed to have gone great lengths to hide these lumps with a white flaky substance, but the boy felt that it only made her look quite funny.

  While they had surrounded the boy, each sporting a dagger, they still had grave looks and maintained a slight distance from him. It was as if the three grown adults felt it would be very difficult to handle a child, but this illogical thought was indeed a time-tested fact in this era, age and gender had nothing to do with strength.

"What's that you're carrying? Come let this aunty help you with it." The woman said in a flirtatious tone twirling her dagger in a flashy arc. She licked her lips with a thorny blue tongue which then suddenly extended further, like a lethargic snake, to tuck a few scattered strands of hair behind her ears.

The boy felt no surprise at this peculiar spectacle, he kept his gaze level and gripped the mouse a bit more tightly with a bandaged hand of which every inch of his flesh was covered up tightly with strips of cloth. He was very familiar with these bandits.

The bandits smiled at the boy and hopped down from their branches. Usually when the opponent does not respond with a positive mutation, especially when faced with a higher number of opponents, it meant the opponent didn't have any positive mutations to boast of. Inwardly however, they sneered hatefully; if they were at the entrance of the forest they might not have been so wary, after all the number of people stronger than them in the village could only be counted on one hand. However a person venturing this deep into the forest of death was definitely someone worthy of caution, he even seemed to be coming from even deeper in the jungle. How could they relax their guard so easily? How could a child have gone so deep into the forest of death without any mutations? They changed tactics and began to observe the hooded figure's body with careful eyes.

Immediately one of them frowned, "Riversnail?"

The boy showed no reaction, but the expression of the other bandits changed. The more they looked, the more convinced they became of their guess; gradually their faces became clouded with irritation and surprise. They immediately seemed much less careful, and hints of playfulness even appeared in their eyes. Of course if it were another kid these bandits would remain wary, but Riversnail's mutation was a bit well-known and quite peculiar.

"And here we were, getting all excited for nothing. Should've known it was Riversnail from those bandages. It is only this brat that doesn't seem to feel pain with bandages over these blasted lumps."

"Ha-ha, how'd it feel licking your face with that tongue of yours?"

"If you were an actual man Shadowshell, I wouldn't always need to do that! Damn, it fucking burns!"

"Now, now, let's not insult ourselves in front of Riversnail. How is he even still alive anyways? Hasn't he been living with that monster?"

The bandits advanced towards Riversnail with cruel smiles etched on unpleasant faces, and their words slowly got more and more vulgar. The woman with the blue tongue reached out and grabbed the mouse he held in his hands.

"Is this all you have? And where did you get that hood? I almost didn't recognize you."

"It's all I have; I found it in the forest…" a monotone voice replied, without a hint of annoyance as the prey he held was scooped away.

The woman sneered with annoyance and interrupted, "We don't have time for your games. Don't lie to me or I will rip your ears off."

"Mistymoon, stop scaring the child." The man on the side chided before turning to Riversnail with roaming eyes and an ugly smile. "What she's trying to say is... Is that really all you have? We can help you carry some more…"

He ended up asking the exact same question as the woman, but the question was in itself quite pointless. They could all see that Riversnail's large tattered pants bulged slightly in a particularly long and meandering manner, and because he was still a child, the shape and size of the bulge compressed any probability into the fact that he was still hiding one more animal in there. The question was merely a test to check if he was willing to hand it over voluntarily or not. While they were not particularly wary of Riversnail based on the many interactions they've had in the past, certain odd things had happened recently to make them unwilling to take action against him unless necessary.

"Yes, it's all I have." Riversnail replied in the same robot like voice.

"You can go then. Follow the trail; some moles have gained the ability to poison, so stay off the underbrush. "

Riversnail didn't reply and the bandits turned around to leave. Watching them leave he turned in the direction of the village but suddenly sidestepped and retreated as something blue shot in his direction. It happened so fast that only a few seconds had passed. They were already almost upon him when he turned to face them. Smiles laced with exasperation adorned their faces as they looked at each other after the failed sneak attack.

"Mouldyworm you fucker, you were too obvious." Shadowshell snarled.

"What… But it's true. Mousehell was killed by a poisonous mole!"

"Enough." Mistymoon chided, then turning to eye the man with a particularly long neck she continued with an exasperated tone, "Idiot we aren't his friends so why would we need to tell him that? That would only lead to suspicion. Must you be so damn stupid all the fucking time?"

Riversnail couldn't endure the conversation anymore. "This one is for my sister, and I won't give it to you. A bird is on its way, if you continue chasing me, none of us will get away."

Disgust appeared on their faces when he started speaking, but they quickly turned pale when he finished. Hesitation flashed across their faces for several seconds, but the boy's reputation as a scout which had made him to be recruited by the now extinct wolf gang couldn't be doubted. Finally they unwillingly turned and took off.

Riversnail fetched the mice he had thrown, and took off running through the forest with deadpan eyes.  His feet made no sound while shuffling through detritus and he casually avoided all twigs and cumbersome underbrush. The only sound that could be heard was the rustling of the blue leaves high in the trees and the whistling of the wind around its trunks. Suddenly as all was calm, a high pitch whistling pierced through the air and then the winds followed. Large winds, strong enough to make the smaller trees dance wildly and powerful enough to pull out its leaves, leaving them bare and dyeing the forest floor a pale blue.

"KEE-EEEEE-ARR!!!"

Riversnail's body stiffened at the famed cry of death. His movements became even louder, but his speed also grew tremendously. He sprinted across the forest, so fast that the eyes of a normal human would probably only notice a faint blur. Of course, the only reason why he dared move on the ground was because the death call had already sent all the animals that could pose a threat, scampering away in fear for their lives.

Hope soon filled him when he could no longer hear the wings of the bird, and when he saw a familiar tree he slowed down considerably. He didn't dare climb any tree to check if he was being followed, so he could only dash past it.