The Ruins

The Ruins of Aethes… they were so different from the landscape Clive saw every day. Compared to the Rubble and all its dust and formless structures, these weathered buildings were almost beautiful. Almost. Not quite. They were mere shadows of the old world. Even Clive had to admit there was something somewhat poetic in that, and he didn’t think himself the sensitive kind. As he slowly walked along the dry earthen roads, he slipped into one of the many growing masses of changers. Everyone was heading to the main gates, and the best place for a thief to hide was really just in plain sight. It’s not like anyone noticed him. Yeah, he was a rebel, but at this stage no one really knew what kind of changers the rebels were, let alone what they looked like. Even still, at the Pack’s constant request, he was wearing a hat to cover his rather unusual raccoon-printed hair. Really, it wasn’t even necessary… his hair wasn’t really that weird, was it? And all the hat was doing was getting in his eyes and absorbing the heat.

Even still, with all his confidence, Clive was still alert. It was evident from the way clear blue eyes flitted about, his gaze flickering across the landscape to take in everything. The ruins that stood on either side of this main path stood on brittle foundations, the walls browned and cracked with age. The cement metal was pitted, a testimony to the rare acidic rainfalls. From these ancient buildings, changers slowly emerged. Clive wasn’t sure, but most of them were smaller with only a few tall ones like him here and there. Pah. A city of aveis and murin – it was like the world was just trying to make his life all the harder. It already seemed like there was a soldier at every other corner, or maybe that was just him. Taking care, Clive looked skywards as well.

Sure enough, as the rumors all said, there it was in the distance… that shadow. It was one of those rare ‘great aveis’ and one of the most prominent members of the Army. ‘So they covered both sky and ground,’ he thought with a sigh.

…Clive didn’t understand at all. What was so good about that dog? What was so great about this, ‘leader’ of theirs that the whole city was willing to stand in the suffocating heat to hear just yet another boring speech? Didn’t they know what that little Army of theirs was doing when everyone’s backs were turned? Why was everyone in the army so loyal to him? Didn’t they know what he did? Pah. Of course not. Not even everyone in the Pack understood how Clive felt, so of course the other changers didn’t.

And while on the topic of the Pack, he briefly wondered what they were doing. He’d left the notice that he was “going to do something in the city”, which was more information than usual… but it wasn’t like they were going to need his help, would they? There wasn’t a plan or anything, the disorganized band of nitwits… although it wasn’t like he contributed any to the tactical aspects, but still. They already knew that he wasn’t really one for details. So what was it that he was going to do in the city? Well, his role of course.

Cautiously but almost naturally, switching his cloth shoulder bag over arms, Clive broke free of the flow. He’d taken care to memorize the positions of each of the soldiers in the general area. If he timed it just right… Slipping behind a group of larger changers, he slowed his gait. As he passed right in front of a soldier – miao from her eyes – to the right, he couldn’t help but break into a grin. There was something about the thrill of this that made it worth the risk. Up ahead, the crowd dispersed, some going straight while others favoring a side route to the right. There was only one soldier there, watching the main road.

At the next turn, he quickly leapt backwards and into the shaded interior of one of the ruins. ‘And that’s that. No one saw me…' A quick glance and a sound out made sure that no one was in there with him, so he ventured deeper, further away from unwanted eyes. Now, usually at this stage, he’d take the small moment of triumph to be arrogant… but this time was different. There was only a small, small feeling of insecurity that lingered there. Ignoring it, he set his eyes and focused on what he had to do. Focus on changing… and immediately he felt that uncomfortable sensation. His skin felt too tight for him and it became difficult to breathe as he shrank. In an estimated seven seconds, a raccoon emerged from the small pile of clothes. Hastily, Clive stuffed them into his shoulder bag, which was now just slightly smaller than him. Doubling the strap over, he gripped it with his teeth and began to scale the wall. His thin and nimble fingers easily slipped into the cracks. It was as easy as climbing a tree.

It was risky to move about Aethes as a raccoon, especially if one was planning to steal something – after all, they’re such slow creatures and so weak compared to the lupus soldiers prowling about. However, Clive thought it necessary. Rebans were unique in that there was little variety in their changed forms. They were raccoons. Not many people can tell them apart. So if he was seen, it would be near impossible to identify him. Besides, he knew what he was doing – he’d done it before, after all.

Most changers kept a small store of food rations somewhere in the residential ruins, more often on the shaded portion of the upper floors for security reasons. Sure enough, Clive could see the hidden stash of potatoes from his position. There wasn’t that much of it – he had two choices: take only enough not to be noticed, or take it all.

He decided on the latter.

‘They can probably get more if they just say the rebels took'em…’ so with that bitter thought and little remorse, Clive quickly skittered down and to the food. If he took all of them and they rationed it, the Pack might be able to last… a week? Maybe two if they all took less than they needed. It was never enough. Still, Clive quickly packed them into his bag, giving each a quick feel over with his paws to tell which were spoiled. Fortunately the owners of these potatoes had done a good job keeping them edible.

However, there was a small problem – when he went to lift the bag, he found he couldn’t. ‘Right – this was the problem last time too,’ he groaned internally. Should he change back? Should he leave some of the potatoes? That would be such a waste…

However, he froze when he heard two distinct sounds. The first was the raucous cheering of a crowd, and that wasn’t good. It meant there was now a limit on his time. The second, probably only a raccoon would be able to hear… and it put him ill at ease. There was the distant, far away scream of a mutant. It was quiet, faint, but still there… and it came from the direction of the Rubble.