He threaded his way through the wreckage. It was dark, but his vision was quite clear, as though the world had suddenly become illuminated. He came across a shattered mirror, still in its gilded frame. After brushing away as much dust as he could from his fur, he made a fist and wiped away a clean circle on the mirror. He regarded his reflection. He was young—not a tot, mind you, not even a child, but young—a rat who looked to be just coming into his own. He thought he’d be older. He bared his teeth; they were impeccably white and razor sharp, his gums fresh and pink. His jaw was thick and his muzzle long, giving him a rather noble air. His snout—it didn’t look right to him, not at all. Frankly, it looked too perfect. He recalled it differently, terribly flawed somehow. He glanced down at his body. No clear image would register in his head, but he thought of old wounds and battle scars. To his surprise, his long arms and legs were free of scars and bruises, his torso rigid, lean, and muscular, and his thick coat remarkably shiny, in spite of the never-ending dust that fell from it. His eyes struck him the most. They were a dark red, nearly plum. He liked them. They looked kind.
As he stared at his reflection, two rats materialized behind them. One was long and tall, with a clean, lustrous white coat. The rat smiled confidently, a stately appearance about him, but he looked nice, the kind of rat who’d help someone he barely knew, an honorable rat. The other rat was slight, with thick, shimmering fur the color of raisins, and buttery-yellow eyes that flickered boldly. She was quite pretty. She reminded him of someone, but he wasn’t sure who. He smiled at the two older rats behind him, hoping they’d follow him out of this place.
His memory was a miasma of faces and things. He still had no idea how he got there, or really anything about himself. The more he thought about it, the more things faded away like dreams do. He knew one thing, though; he was going to get out of this dank, dirty hole. He yearned to see the sunlight. He would miss the black dust, though. He liked the smell of it. The scent reminded him of something, made him feel connected to it, but of course he couldn’t say what that something was.
Making his way up the tall mountain of wreckage, he came across a long wooden sign. In ornate gold letters it read THE LORDS OF TRILLIUM. He scratched his head. A lord, someone important, someone who had a great deal of power, but he had no interest in that. The long sign did make for good climbing, though, allowing him easy access to the city street. Daylight was just peeking over the horizon. He peered over his shoulder, making sure the other two rats had kept up with him.
There were large men with guns guarding the hole, their backs to him. He wondered why a hole full of useless, broken things would be so important to anyone that they’d guard it with guns. As he walked behind them, he heard one say the hole would be sealed off permanently today. He turned and looked down into it, still wondering how he got there. For some reason he didn’t think his memory of it would ever return. Oddly, he was at ease with that. The male rat rested a warm paw on his shoulder. He knew it was time to go.
It rained lightly, rinsing the black dust out of his white coat. He liked the feel of the water on his skin, light washing away the darkness. He smiled at the other two rats as the three of them walked past the barricades. He thought about names and places. What would he call himself? Where would he go? A feeling of freedom came over him. His future, wherever it led, was entirely up to him.
The female rat took his paw and smiled. The male smiled as well, putting a snow-white arm around his shoulder. Their names—he felt like they were coming back to him.
He pointed at the sun rising higher and higher in the sky. “Let’s go there,” he told his companions, “wherever it leads.” They nodded in agreement.
He looked back one final time, glancing at the tattered brown satchel he dragged behind him.
Lords of Trillium Page 19