He
quickly turns tail to run as projectile rocks rain down around him.
He scuttles back up the road for a short distance, ducking and
weaving as more stones hit the ground. At the first opportunity, a
break in the undergrowth, he leaps to his left, crossing a ditch and
off into the trees. He doesn't stop running there, following a path
deep into the woods, continuing his haste until the shouts and jeers
behind him have faded to silence.
He
stumbles on, through the trees, following an overgrown seldom used
path. Fear grips him tight, mixed with remorse for what he's just
done, and shock that he did it. But he had no choice, did he? He
did what had to be done, for his species, to protect future
generations. That was right, wasn't it?
He
finds himself in a narrow clearing, water rushing near by, and
perches himself on a fallen log, finally allowing his head to sink
into his hands. How long he sits there he doesn't know, lost as he
is in the maze of his own guilt. He only starts to take notice of
his environment when a voice disturbs his peace.
“How
now little rat,” it says, “What's made you so miserable on such a
fine day?”
