He huddled in the shadows, trying to appear inconspicuous. Just as his hunger began to feel unbearable, another ratman approached. His movements were deliberately casual, as if he were simply passing by, yet he subtly placed a larger bowl, brimming with the greyish paste, directly in front of Boltthrower.
Boltthrower stared at the unexpected bounty, then at the ratman who offered it. Confusion warred with a surge of desperate gratitude. He hesitated, unsure how to react, his mind racing. Then, almost involuntarily, his enhanced senses reached out, probing the energy that clung to this fellow ratman. It was… normal. It mirrored the passive interaction he had observed in others of their kind.
The ratman leaned closer, his whiskers twitching slightly, and whispered, his voice barely audible above the din of the camp, "You shouldn't do that."
Boltthrower's heart hammered against his ribs. "Do what?" he managed, his voice a low croak.
