Mama always say, "Water don' got teeth, but it still kill ya."
I understood what now.
I woke up gaspin'.
My fur was heavy, soaked through, stickin' to my skin. My paws felt like little stones, too tired to move. My ears rang from all da water I swallowed, an' my chest felt tight, like da river was still tryin' to pull me under.
But I was alive.
I turned my head slow, breath shudderin'. Da others were sprawled out in da mud beside me, breathin', twitchin'—drenched but not dead.
Mama was already sittin' up, shakin' her fur out.
Grizz was mutterin' curses under his breath. "Ssssqueak." ("Hate water. Stupid, nasty, grabby thing.")
Rusty?
Rusty was on his back, still holdin' da flashlight like it was a treasure.
He grinned, teeth flashin' in da early mornin' light. "Sweek." ("I survived! Ha! Take dat, stabby-fluffies!")
Mama groaned. "Squeak." ("Don't start, Rusty.")
Den, her ears twitched.
She sat up straighter, sniffin' da air. Her nose twitched fast. Her eyes went sharp.
I sat up too. My fur prickled.
Sumthin' was wrong.
Mama turned fast. "Squeak!" ("ROLL CALL!")
Me. Here.
Rusty. Unfortunately, here.
Grizz. Soaked an' grumpy, but here.
Den, my other siblings—
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Wait.
We were nine.
Mama's breath hitched. "Squeak!" ("WHO'S GONE?!")
Den—
A weak lil' "squeak…"
We turned.
Twitch.
Dat was his name.
Da smallest of us. Da runt. Mama always said he had da fastest paws, da sharpest nose. He was da best at slippin' through tight spaces, da best at disappearin' when da danger came.
But he didn' disappear now.
He was stuck.
Half-buried in da river mud, paws strugglin', tail flickin'.
Mama was at his side in a blink. "Squeak!" ("Twitch! Hold on!")
We rushed up, helpin' dig. Da mud was thick an' grabby, like da river still had its claws in him.
Twitch wheezed, strugglin'. "Squeak… squeak." ("Can't mov'… too heeevy…")
Mama's paws flew. She was diggin' fast, pantin', tail lashin'. "Squeak!" ("Almost got ya, baby, almost got ya!")
Grizz pushed us aside. "Ssssqueak!" ("Too slow. Gotta pull.")
Rusty shoved his flashlight in his mouth an' grabbed Twitch's scruff.
I grabbed Twitch's paw.
Two of my sisters grabbed Twitch's tail.
Grizz grabbed all of us.
Mama hauled.
"SQUEEEEAK!" ("PULL!")
We yanked Twitch out in a slurp of wet mud. He tumbled forward, gaspin', shakin', paws weak.
Mama yanked him close, wrappin' 'round him tight. "Squeak, squeak, squeak." ("You here. You safe. You here.")
Twitch curled against her, still breathin' hard. "Squeak." ("River tried to eat me.")
Rusty, flashlight still in his teeth, mumbled, "Sweek." ("Told ya it was a water monster.")
Mama smacked him.
We sat dere, shiverin', catchin' our breath.
Da stabby-fluffies were gone. Da river left us behind. But da Wilds?
Da Wilds didn' care if we was tired.
Mama knew dat.
She took one last deep breath, den pushed herself up, still holdin' Twitch close. "Squeak." ("We keep movin'.")
Grizz nodded. "Ssssqueak." ("Where?")
Mama's ears twitched. She looked up at da trees, sniffed da air.
Den, she frowned. "Squeak." ("Wait. Where… are we?")
We all looked up.
An' we all realized at da same time—
We ain't never seen dis place before.
Da Wilds was big.
Bigger dan Sanctuary tunnels. Bigger dan da clearings we knew.
But dis?
Dis was sumthin' else.
Da trees here were huge, roots twistin' in weird, grabby shapes. Da ground was soft, covered in thick moss dat swallowed our pawsteps. Strange vines dripped from da branches, like da trees were whisperin' to each other in secret.
An' da air smelled wrong.
Not like da river. Not like da mud.
Like…
Hoomans.
Rusty's nose twitched. "Sweek?" ("Smells like hoomans… but old hoomans.")
Mama's whiskers twitched too. "Squeak." ("Yeah…")
Grizz narrowed his eyes. "Ssssqueak." ("Could be bad. Could be worse.")
Rusty perked up. "Sweek!" ("Could be cool!")
Mama grabbed his ear an' yanked. "Squeak." ("Could be dangerous, dumb-dumb.")
Rusty pouted.
I sniffed again. I didn' like it. It smelled like hoomans, but not da kind who give out food. Not da kind who build safe cages an' make dumb tests.
Dis was a different smell.
Old.
Faint.
Like hoomans used to be here.
But now…
Now sumthin' else was.
Twitch whispered, "Squeak." ("I don' like dis place.")
One of my sisters shivered. "Squeak." ("Me neither.")
Mama's ears stayed high. "Squeak." ("We be careful. Move slow. Find cover.")
Rusty wiggled his nose. "Sweek?" ("What if dere's treasure?")
Mama smacked him again.
We moved deeper into da mossy trees, slow an' careful. Every step felt like da ground was listenin' to us.
Grizz muttered, "Ssssqueak." ("Dey say hooman ruins still got danger.")
I swallowed. "Squeak?" ("What kinda danger?")
Grizz flicked his tail. "Ssssqueak." ("Dunno. Never lived long enough to ask.")
Rusty perked up. "Sweek!" ("Guess we find out!")
Mama sighed. "Squeak." ("I hate dis plan.")
We crept forward.
Da moss swallowed our steps.
Da vines swayed, even wit' no wind.
Den—
A sound.
Click.
Rusty froze.
I froze.
Mama froze.
Rusty blinked. "Sweek?" ("...Dat normal?")
Click.
Click-click.
SCRAAAAATCH.
We turned.
An' dere—
Dere, in da vines—
Two red, glowy eyes blinked.
A shape moved.
Not a cat.
Not a rat.
Not hooman.
Rusty whispered, "Sweek." ("Oh.")
Den—
It started chasin' us.