The Subterranean Rodentian Tales:, Andrea M. Welsh [great books of all time txt] 📗

Prologue

I remember that night as if it were yesterday. It was the night I would take on a misunderstood, stereotyped, loyal creature as my son. And it is a night I will never regret.

 

There was a faint knocking on the slate door. I was studying the Libro Vitae, still many ways away from acheiving graduation to carry on the tradition of my striped ancestors. Nighttime had already fallen over the ever-dark tunnels and caves, and is usually the time that the scelusans are out and about. Reluctantly, I peeked my snout out of a crack I made by opening the door, and sniffed the air. Rats. So, I went back in.

 

Another faint knock layed itself on the door. This time, I actually looked out, carrying my dim-lighted torch. I couldn't really see much, but I heard feet padding on the soil frantically as I looked out. Looking around, I saw no one, but heard an infant's squeak. That's when I realized that there was a woven vine basket laying against my feet. Surely, the rats would devour the poor creature if I left it there, so I brought the basket inside.

 

Peeling back the dirty and beaten up blanket, it revealed a pinkie not even old enough to determine the creature. Carefully, I bathed the poor thing and prepared a clean bed for it. After the young one was nestled in, my hands grabbed an envelope that was tucked neatly in the basket.

 

After tearing the cream colored casing, my eyes widened in shock as I read the letter. It was then I knew that this would be my adopted son, until his destiny awaited him.

Chapter One: Same Old, Same Old

Reformation continued on his hard list of chores given to him by the chipmunks. Yet, he was eager to please. Maybe just once they would be proud of him? As he carried the load outside, some of the chipmunks snuffed and snorted as he walked by. The rest glared judgingly, wanting to break down his enthusiasm.

 

However, Reformation was used to this treatment. He was convinced that he had an unknown sin attached to him. So, he accepted it, and did whatever they told him to do. The only one that was proud of him was GoldenRod, his mother figure. And really, that was all he needed.

 

As he walked down the rodent-made tunnel, he brushed against the dirt wall to keep his way. After all, it was dim-litted and rats can't really see that great anyways. Coming across a fork, he took the left hallway where he would set down the dried vine.

 

The room had dirt for walls, and stone for floor. It was a humble place, but these weren't for living. Reformation was simply preparing the room for travelers in the name of Lignolity. Off to the side was a bed made of dried grass, just a simple pile for sleeping in. Beside it was the Libro Vitae, the book that helps run lignolity. A dim torch was on the right, just shining bright enough to see the basic features of the room.

 

As Reformation worked, he hummed and tapped his tail. Setting down the box of vines, he then began cleaning the stone floor, brushing out dirt and mud with his tail, then pouring water over it to keep the stone clean. Before leaving to continue his list of chores, he set a small peice of carrot (the equivalent of a decent sized snack in their proportions) for the next guest to stay there.

 

Walking out, he went into the squirrel's den to sharpen their swords and clean their living quarters. With pleasant smiles, the squirrels waved at him in greeting. Squirrels are also looked down upon because of their ability to mate with rats. However, they serve mostly as body guards for Chipmunks and travelers.

 

As Reformation worked, he listened to the squirrels chat and play poker. While he wasn't aloud to gamble, it was entertaining for Reformation to listen to.

 

Chester, Reformation's greatest friend, approached him casually. "The stripe backs aren't bothering you too badly, are they?"

 

"Oh, of course not! It's an honor to serve under the gaurdians of Lignolity." cheered Reformation.

 

Chester shook his head. "You do realize they will never be pleased with you because of your bad blood, don't you?"

 

"But it's a sin to judge by blood and bones." stated Reformation, wiping a rag across a freshly sharpened sword.

 

"That doesn't mean they live by their teachings." pointed out Chester.

 

"What do you mean?" asked the white rat.

 

"Lignolity itself has sustained holy, however, the churches and servants of RedWood have become corrupted. The only truly pure chipmunk is your mother, and 3 others." explained Chester.

 

"Oh, that's ridiculous," laughed Reformation, picking up the next sword. "That's a good joke, though."

 

Chester tsked. "You're being naive. But, if that's what you choose to believe." he said, walking away.

 

Reformation shrugged, and continued to clean and sharpen the swords. Once or twice he had accidently cut himself, but he just wiped it on his side. After finishing the weaponry and armor, he washed the poker table, and the squirrels cooperated by lifting up the items on the table. Then, he walked into the living quarters.

 

Noticing the books and journals in their rooms, something that he was forbidden from touching, he imagined what might be inside of those objects. What could possibly be so bad about them? However, he wasn't risking it. It was a sin to read any book other than the Libro Vitae. Besides, what if he was sucked into Hell simply by opening it? Reformation shuddered by the thought.

 

He simply organized them, dusted the shelves, and continued his duties. As he was walking out to tell Father Buckthorn that he had finished the list of chores, he felt the walls with his hands, a habit he had developed. By now, he knew every crack and crevis, every stone and root. It was like re-reading a book, for the thousandth time.  But he continued this habit, just to see if anything new would pop up.

 

A chipmunk walked by, and Reformation waved happily. Of course, the chipmunk sneered and kept walking, glaring at him. He just ignored it, and continued down the path, tugging at his whiskers now and then. Finally, he came into a room where several chipmunks were studying. Father Buckthorn was watching over all of them, with kind eyes and humbleness. 

 

Reformation slowly walked into the room, bowing his head respectfully. Father Buckthorn's eyes turned from a soft, floaty look to a hard, cold stare. 

 

"Father Buckthorn? I fini-"began Reformation before being interrupted.

 

"Wash your feet, you filthy mud dweller!" hissed Father Buckthorn.

 

Reformation looked down at his feet, covered in mud from the hallways. He had never been supplied shoes, so his feet often got dirty.

 

"Pardon me, Father Buckthorn." he said, heading towards the washroom. 

 

Reformation dipped his feet in the trickle of water coming from the walls, and began scrubbing with his hands. He wasn't aloud to use brushes, or leaves to dry off with. Instead, he had to put up with wet feet. After thoroughly cleaning the pale pink feet, he returned to Father Buckthorn, who looked down on him.

 

"What took you so long with those chores, rat?" chattered Father Buckthorn.

 

"My apologies, I'm not the fastest worker." said Reformation, looking down at the ground.

 

"Slacker..." mumbled Father Buckthorn under his breath.

 

"I have another job for you," he huffed. "Don't screw it up!"

 

"Yes, sir. What would you like me to do?" said Reformation.

 

"There's a mourning family asking us to bury their uncle who was savagely ripped to shreds by your kind. We've already asked a mole to dig the gravesite. I want you to bury him for them. I also suggest you don't talk and make things worse for the poor family." said Father Buckthorn.

 

"Yes, sir." said Reformation.

 

He then walked off, heading in the direction of a family of mice. He had to squint to determine the species, but knew for sure when he could smell them.

 

 

Chapter Two: When a Dog Tastes Blood

 As Reformation approached the family, they seemed startled by his appearance.

 

"Rat!" screamed the little girl.

 

The mother stood in front of the frightened children, and the father barely noticed him.

 

This was something Reformation was use to. And really, he could deal with it accordingly. Before speaking, he bowed respectfully. His edicate was wonderful, and his bow was graceful and handsome. Wrapping his hand around the center of the tail and pushing it back some, and his hand under his chest, he bowed with great finesse.

 

"My apologies for frightening you. I'm simply here to burry your beloved relative. You have my greatest sympathy." squeaked Reformation.

 

Comforted by his well manners, the family relaxed, and allowed him to proceed. The children were still scared of him, but he paid no mind to them. As was told, Reformation simply did his job. The adult mice weren't nearly as judgemental as the chipmunks and chipnuns, and appreciated his politeness and humility. Reformation was still a rat, but very different from his brotherin. He was taught respect.

 

He looked over to where the mole had just finished digging the gravesite. Carefully, Reformation picked up the casket. Years of hard labor, discipline, and heavy objects had given him tremendous strength, allowing him to pick up the casket with ease. Reformation then slowly walked over to the site, watching where he stepped and how he stepped. Finally, he brought it to the hole, and gently rested it down.

 

After taking a minute to catch his breath, he began throwing dirt from the small mound on top of the casket, packing it down as he went. For most of the burial, he had to climb in and out of the hole since he had no tools of use to help him. This continued on for about an hour, until the burial was complete. All he had to do now is place down the grave marker.

 

Just as he was about to leave to go get it, one of the children screamed again. This time, not at him, but another shadowy figure that was lurking in the tunnels. Not able to see, Reformation sniffed the air. It was an unfamiliar scent; a musty, darker scent that reeked of old water and dried blood. Since he didn't know what was going on, he quickly scurried to the family's aid.

 

As he ran to them to see why they were panicking, Reformation felt