The first Great Rat

[Crunchiest_Leaf 129]

"The First Great Rat"
 

A book sits atop a dusty shelf, old, battered and forgotten. A seeming translation of a translation at a glance - a story captured upon paper, though not by those who first spoke it.

No author, nor references would be found, be they erased with the weathering of time, or rather forgotten altogether.

 

A large black rat, with piercing red eyes adorns the cover. 

 

 

… 

 

Long ago, in the time before men, elves or even dwarves there were animals; though far fewer than we see today. Simple creatures, akin to mice we see today, were however abundant. Their sprawling twig nests across grassy plains showed just how successful they had become - enjoying bountiful berries, and a seemingly unending supply of grain from the grasses in which they lived. 

 

Sprouting seemingly from the ground, these mice multiplied, tenfold… a hundredfold… A

A thousand times over - though delicate and frail creatures, there was no real cause for worry for them - the berries would last, and the grain would flow for as long as mice had tails. Or so they had convinced themselves. 

 

 

After a particularly harsh winter, sleepy mice awoke from their nests to find no berries for them to eat, and very little grain left over from the previous autumn. The bushes that had sustained them had withered in the cold, leaving only hewn twigs and rotten seeds in their stead. 

 

The grasses were not as unfortunate, though the nice had been left with barely enough to live in, and barely enough grain to sustain their terrific number. Though the line to doom would be thin, with careful sacrifice and hope, the mice could endure this famine, until the new growth of the coming summer into autumn. 

 

Fear however had already found itself in the hearts of many of the mice. They had never been without, and did not know if the coming harvests would be as harsh as the spring they had awoken to. This led many to hoard what little grain they could get their whiskers upon; leaving many with none. 

 

Tensions grew in the coming weeks, into months - and where many in the beginning had hoped for a forgiving autumn - the harvest had gone forgotten. War and distrust had the mice in its grips, the once tight-knit nests and grassen communes had devolved into bitter battles, rending skin from tails, fingers from hands, and lives from entire families. Where the new autumn grain sat plentiful upon grassy heads, the most foul and terrible of battles were seen. Fuelled all in ferocity by fear of the coming winter, and what might be left in its wake come spring. 

 

Nameless spirits looked upon the mice with sadness and tragic grief. Nameless as none with the gift of word had been to give them names, beyond thought and the occasional thankful squeak. 

 

With hearts full of pain, for the mice that had once been, the spirits saw but one way forward. If the mice could not be trusted to share, and to cast out the greed that had wormed its way into their souls like a worm might a rotten apple - the spirits would teach them with a force yet unseen. Not out of hatred, but of hope that a balance once lost could be found again. Without mice. 

 

Great beasts were forged in the divine lights of the nameless spirits, unlike any that they had trodden upon the grassy plains before. 

They had great and terrible claws; not for digging or for reaching itches, but for rending flesh from bone and trapping souls in their grips. They had Great fanged teeth, not for husking grains, nor for the grooming of fur, but for the crunching of bone. Great eyes, not for loving gaze upon family, but to find and to catch in even the darkest of nights. 

 

They came in the night, taking and destroying - leaving only chewed bones and strewn fur in their wake. Without prejudice, remorse or even malice, these beasts swept like a winter’s fog, flooding through the plains. Never having even imagined such things, the mice were defenceless; no hidey-holes, no tree roots, nowhere for them to hide from the piercing radiant moon, and the dark things that prowled within its glow. 

 

This lasted for 13 nights; only halted by the pleading prayers of one meek and mouse, calling not for himself to be spared, nor for the forgiveness of his family; but rather the acceptance of the sins of his people as a whole, asking only for a chance to start again. 

 

For many more moons, the prayers of this mouse fell upon deaf ears - though gradually - after thirteen times as many moons, with his devotion, remorse and determination more of the spirits took interest. Soon the congregation to hear out the little mouse grew into a spiralling mass; stirred with whispers and discussion from plains for beyond - whistling through the trees and dancing amongst the blades of grass.

 

A message came as a lul in the chaos; not as word but as feeling. A bargain from the spirits, accepting the mouse’s pleas for a second chance - though with a harsh reminder of what had already come to pass, and what would come if actions were repeated. The mouse, steadfast in his redoubled resolve of his side of the deal; and with that it began. 

 

The spirits reached out with endless tendrils blue, gripping at his features and wrapping him in their powers. Such as they had with the beasts sought to erase his people, the spirits forged the mouse. Great Claws, not for catching or slashing; but for digging. burrowing and building in earth too hard and unforgiving to mear mice, Great piercing eyes, not for finding and chasing, but whose glow would light even the darkest of path, Great stench to drive out the beasts of the night from a new home built, Great writhing fur of black, thick and dense, to hide from the most determined of pursuer. 

 

With the dying of the mouse’s previous form, it was replaced - similar yet different, greater than before, but no-longer kin the the mice that had committed such sins against the balance. Stood now upon the soft earth, a great rat; the first of its kind to tread upon the earth.

 

Leaving the clearing of the spirits, the rat sought out his family, similarly repentant to himself he gathered them each into a great column, an exodus from grassy nests - now torn and sundered across a moonlit waste. Though not all would follow him, choosing instead  to remain, determined to fight against the moon, the beasts, and the mice they so eagerly tried to compete against for any scraps of grain that remained from the forgotten harvest of the year before.

 

Marching onwards, the rat and his kin delved first into soft soils, clearing and building paths into the belly of the earth. Where the ground became tougher and harder claws in turn became hardened through work, until all could dig freely. Where the light from above faded into blackness, eyes grew brighter in turn until all could see freely in the absence of sun. Where food became short and warmth lesser, hearts grew closer and sharing amongst kin brought ease in times of hardship. Where a stench had once been, a welcoming scent was shared amongst them; a marker of their new family and the bond between each member.

 

 

Before long, the mouse-kin the rat had brought upon his pilgrimage resembled what he had become - greater than they were before; changed compared to the kin they had left behind in the world above. As was the home they had come to recognise within burrowed earth. Different to the homely grassy nests of their kin, though warm with the energies that mice had lost their grasp upon. 

 

After many moons beneath the surface - what once was mouse was all but lost; new ways, new teachings and lessons learned, a sprawling nest took shape, welcoming all rats within its halls, with the grand architect - the first of their kind - never resting. Though one thing had been noted by these new rats; the curse that had led to their fall was ever present, more and more rats began to appear, multiplying tenfold, a hundred fold.... 

 

The first great rat, still with the weight of loss ever upon his soul, with the fear of what horrors the spirits might unleash should he fail his duty made a vow to himself and his people. The nest would be endless, sprawling in the deep - large enough for an unending number of rats, so that the sins of the past might not be repeated. And so he remained digging - endlessly - expanding this ever growing home within the deep, so that the rats would want not for space, or food or that which their forgotten kin had fallen folly to. 

 

And so - to this day, the first great rat continues - digging, building and remembering the mistakes of the past; and all rats, though forgotten in original name, remember his vow, and his sacrifice made for them. 

 

…

 

A scrawling would be made on the backmost page of the book reading;
“Kiku nevah forget - doku-doku.”

A small four fingered hand print would be left aside

 

Spoiler

 

Looking back on this, it does seem a little bit watership-down-y BUT RAT LORE BABY!

 

Edited January 30 by Crunchiest_Leaf

[Nimbus_Strike 47]

A certain Li-Ren would read through it, pursing her lips, before putting the poster back and clearing her throat.

 

"And ni, Kiku, ni need bath. When wo find ni, will be unforgettable experience for ni. Ni will never smell bad again."

[Turbo_Dog 1487]

Spuds read the tale woven by the musin with a smile enjoying the contents the more he read “This needs an award. This is the pinnacle of tales and must be shared.”