With
a heavy heart he leaves the clearing, slowly making his way back
toward the town. As he reaches the edges of the dwellings, he's sure
the volume of rats has increased. They are, quite literally,
everywhere: in every nook and cranny, every ditch and mound, often
two or three deep, climbing under and over each other, an ocean of
rats as far as he can see.
He
walks slowly into the settlement, each step cautiously taken, mindful
that none should get crushed under foot. By and large the rats
ignore him: now and again they sniff at his legs, one or two
scrutinise him from a distance, but he carries an air of familiarity
that is beneath their contempt. He is, after all, essentially them.
He
wanders past burning buildings, through lines of people passing
buckets full of water, following the sound of human chatter, angry
voices raised in fear and desperation. This sound leads him to the
centre of the settlement, a church hall packed to the rafters with
confused. terrified townsfolk. Unnoticed, he takes a seat at the
rear, listening as they discuss their troubles.
