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Paul panted hard as he leaned against the tunnel wall, struggling to catch his breath. For the moment he was alone in the dark tunnels, and it was quiet for the moment. He could only hear his own labored breathing, and the trickle of water echoing from some distant tunnel. He didn’t know how long he had been running, but it felt like hours. He swallowed hard, his throat was dry and he was soaked in sweat. Everything had happened so fast…

He and Ticktock had been summoned to one of the entrances to the warrens, where a large crowd of rats were in a standoff with a group of humans. The rats were armed with makeshift weapons, clubs and spears made from lengths of pipe. The humans were all in chain armor and gambeson, with crossbows and bright gas torches that they were waving around, shining into the eyes of the rats in an attempt to dazzle them. Tensions were high in both groups.

Paul and Ticktock seemed to arrive just at the breaking point. A human with an itchy trigger finger shot out a bolt from his crossbow. There was a loud screech that was cut off as it embedded itself in the chest of a young rat at the front of the crowd. There was a moment of stunned silence from both sides. Then like a dam breaking, the rats rushed forward, laying into the humans with their makeshift weapons. The fight only lasted a few minutes at most. The rats, while unarmored, had superior numbers and they swarmed the humans. They beat the men with their clubs and stabbed them with their spears. The smarter of the humans dropped their weapons and fled.

As the hoard of rats chased after them, Paul went to the one who had been downed. The bolt had pierced into his chest, and the rat had died almost instantly. He frowned and then looked out at the scene before him. The bodies of men and several more rats lined the tunnel, and blood was flowing freely over the stones, pouring into the trench to be carried off by the flow of water. There were a few lit torches still laying on the ground, highlighting the blood and the wet walls of the tunnel. There was movement as well, that Paul saw. He moved closer to examine it, finding Bryce there. He had been impaled on one of the rats’ makeshift spears, the heavy lead pipe protruding from his belly. Blood was pouring from the wound and the man was already deathly pale.

“Bloody hell… Bryce…” Paul said with a frown, kneeling next to the man.

He looked up, his entire body trembling. He kept a hand pressed to his gut in a vain attempt to stanch the flow of blood. “Just…wanted to…talk…” he groaned. “Came for…you…”

Paul felt Ticktock moving up to his side, putting a hand on his arm. He was about to say something when another voice spoke up.

“What’s going on?” A voice asked from down the tunnel.

Paul looked up to see Pox there, a few paces away.

Bryce continued, “Came here…to fetch ya…didn’t want to…brother sent us…”

Paul frowned, “I want nothing to do with you…any of you…” he growled. He then felt Ticktock pulling on his arm.

“Paul…you go now…” she said.

Paul looked at her confused, but her eyes weren’t on him. He looked at her and then in the direction she was staring, “Oh…Pox,” he said seeing the tall shadow of a rat there. “I’m so glad to see you,” he said with a smile.

Ticktock tugged on his arm again, “No…Paul…” she hissed, “Run!”

Paul looked over to her, “What? Why? That’s Pox.”

The taller rat started to step forward, and the light caught her face. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused. Her hand moved and drew her dagger from its sheath at her waist.

Ticktock showed a surprising amount of strength in that moment, pulling Paul to his feet. “Come, come! Paul! She’s going to kill you!”

Paul stumbled to his feet, looking to Ticktock, “Wait…what? Why?” he asked, confused.

Ticktock was quicker than he was, “Men came for you, rats died. She is bound by magic to kill you now, run!” The smaller rat gave Paul a shove down the tunnel.

He staggered away, still confused, looking between Pox and Ticktock, before his mind finally got what Ticktock was telling him. “The blood oath…” he said. A chill ran down his back. He turned and started to run back the way they had come, into the darkened tunnel deep into the maze of the rat warren.

Paul had run as fast as he could through the warren, doing his best to evade his pursuer. He’d learned a lot about the layout of the tunnels, having lived with the rats for several months now, but Pox had been born there. She knew the warren like the back of her hand, and she also had the advantage of being able to see in the near darkness of many of the passageways. She also knew how to hunt.

Each time he made an attempt to flee the warren, she had caught up to him or cut him off, driving him ever deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels away from the sewers, and other rats. He had soon found himself in areas he was less familiar with, finally with him ending up in a dead end. He was trapped with nowhere to go but back the way he had come. He swallowed hard as he tried to peer into the darkness, blind to anything, and he listened out. A shiver ran down his spine as he heard the sound of bare feet on wet cobblestones.

Paul pressed into the wall, hoping beyond hope for a miracle. His breath caught in his throat, and he closed his eyes listening to the footsteps. He heard when Pox entered the chamber. In the darkness he thought he could see a red glint in her eyes as she moved closer. He heard the whisper of her dagger being pulled from its sheath. Paul braced himself for the strike, but it didn't come. Instead, there was a loud screech like a challenge, and a heavy thud as two bodies collided nearby in the darkness. He heard Pox hit the ground, and the sounds of the struggle. Someone was fighting Pox.

"Human!" He heard the strained voice of Stumptail call from the darkness. "Go now! Run! Kill Gnarltooth and break...the curse."

“Gnarltooth?” Paul asked, “But what about Pox?”

The two rats continued to fight, Pox saying nothing, while the larger older rat wrestled her, “I’ll handle Pox. Kill Gnarltooth!”

Paul swallowed and nodded, “Thank you, Elder,” he said, before feeling his way back to the mouth of the tunnel and heading back into the warrens proper, breathing a small sigh of relief as the sounds of combat faded behind him. Once he was back in more familiar parts of the warren, it was easy to find Gnarltooth in the old rat’s bed chamber.

It was one of the larger spaces, and well appointed, with scavenged tapestries and rugs on the floor, and piles of gold trinkets that glittered in the dim light of several gas torches. The old rat was lying atop a bed made of discarded pillows and cushions, eyes closed and snoring loudly. Paul thanked his luck and made his way slowly into the chamber, creeping silently. The tapestries dulled the sound of his boots, aiding in his attempt to be stealthy. He pulled his knife out of his pocket and extended the blade from the handle slowly, with a barely audible click as it locked into place.

He managed to get within just a few feet of Gnarltooth, when he heard a low growl from behind him that made him freeze in his tracks. He slowly turned around, and saw Gnarltooth’s black hound behind him, seeming to melt out of the shadows. Its two red eyes were fixed on Paul and its lips were curled back, showing yellow teeth that gleamed in the dim firelight.

Paul froze in place for several moments, his heart thudding hard in his chest. Then the dog let out a loud bark and leaped at him, jaws parted wide. Paul brought his knife up to defend himself and the two connected. The blade bit into the hound’s flesh, and it recoiled immediately with a loud roar of pain. The wound the knife had made was smoking where the blade had touched the hound’s flesh, and the smell of burnt hair filled the chamber. Paul remembered the hound was the rat’s familiar, a dark entity given form through ritual, and because of that, like all such creatures, it was harmed by silver.

Paul was about to lunge at the dog again, when he heard a voice behind him, “What is the meaning of this?!” Gnarltooth was scrambling to sit up in his bed, having been awakened by the hound’s barks. Paul glanced between the two, and then lunged at the hound, hoping to kill it before the old rat got his bearings.

The hound backed away, dodging from the swing of the knife, and then barked loudly and snapped towards Paul, catching his knife arm in the dog’s powerful jaws. Paul let out a groan and barely managed to keep hold of his knife, and he started punching the dog’s head. It growled and shook its muzzle violently, and Paul felt like his arm was going to pull out of its socket.

Gnarltooth managed to get to his knees on the bed, seeing what was happening he let out a wheezing chuckle, “Yes! Good! Kill the human!” he said.

Paul ignored the rat and continued struggling with the dog. He grabbed onto the dog’s muzzle, trying to pry it open and free his arm, but the beast was too strong.

The dog started to shake its head again, when something struck it in the jaw from across the room. There was a bright flash, and a burst of smoke and more burning flesh, that stunned the creature. It released Paul’s arm and he fell back. On the ground next to him was a silver pocket watch. He glanced at the door to see Ticktock rushing in, swinging another watch on a long chain. She screamed a war cry and brought the chain down, the weight from the watch causing it to loop around the dog’s neck. More smoke, and even white fire burst as the hound screamed.

“Paul! The knife!” Ticktock yelled as she pulled on the chain.

Paul nodded, grabbing his blade in his good hand, and he stabbed it into the dog’s neck several times. The beast howled and thrashed, trying to throw the two off of it.

“No!” Gnarltooth bellowed out, wielding a twisted cane like a club, and rushing into the fray to aid his familiar. He swung the heavy end down towards Paul’s head, but Ticktock leaped in front of it, taking the blow to the ribs with a sickening crack, and a squeal of pain.

Paul slashed at the dog’s throat with the knife, slicing a deep gash across its neck. It let out a gurgling groan, and a gout of black blood oozed from the wound, before the hound fell to the floor, twitching and dying.

Gnarltooth roared in anger, and swung the club at Ticktock again, cursing loudly. “Stupid bitch, I should have had you killed long ago!” There was another sickening thud, and the sound of more bones breaking, and Ticktock spit up a gout of blood.

“Ticktock! No!” Paul shouted and leaped onto Gnarltooth, tackling the old rat to the ground, sending the club flying as the old rat hit the stone floor. Paul grabbed at the rat’s neck with one hand and punched him in the muzzle with the other over and over.

The rat kicked and scrambled under him, raking Paul with his claws and he tried snapping with his twisted teeth. Like many of the rats, he had a size advantage over Paul, in spite of his advanced age. He managed to knock Paul off of him and their positions reversed. Paul covered his face with his arms, dropping his knife in the process, as the rat slashed with the claws on his, using the other to hold the human down. “Stupid fucking human! You’re ruining everything! Poisoning the clan with your presence!” he hissed.

Paul groaned in pain, trying in vain to protect himself as his arms were shredded by gnarltooth’s filthy talons. The rat then grabbed his arms and wrenched them hard, slamming Paul’s head into the stone floor, and leaving him dazed and reeling, stars swimming around in his vision.

Gnarltooth panted hard as he straddled Paul and kept him pinned. He spotted Paul’s knife and took it up, “It is time I end this once and for all!” he snarled, raising the knife above his head, ready to stab it down.

Paul closed his eyes, waiting for a strike. There was the loud sound of metal thudding into flesh, and a shower of warm droplets splashed over Paul’s face. When he opened his eyes he saw the end of a curved dagger protruding from Gnarltooth’s chest, a confused look on the old rat’s face.

Pox pulled her knife free and grabbed Gnarltooth’s head, “I told you, I would kill you!” she hissed loudly, slicing the blade across the rat’s throat.

Paul stared up, blinking in confusion as Pox pitched the dead rat aside and looked down at Paul, panting hard. She put her arms around him and lifted him off the ground, hugging him to her chest. The last thing he saw was her leaning in to kiss him.

† † †

Paul awoke some time later. He was lying on his back, with sparkling lights dancing in his vision. It took him a moment to realize that they were the pocket watches Ticktock decorated their alcove with. It was being lit by a portable gas lantern, set to a low flame. He was lying atop their rag pile bed with heavy blankets on top of him. His arms had been bandaged up, and he had the taste of the healing potion in his mouth. He saw another shape in the bed next to him, and blinked a few times. It was ticktock. She was breathing, but it was shallow and rough. She had bandages wrapped tight around her chest.

There was a rustle of fabric at the entrance that caught his attention, and Paul saw Pox come into the room. She saw him there and smiled, closing her eye and looking visibly relieved. She moved over and got on her knees next to him, resting a hand on his cheek. “It over,” she said. “Gnarltooth and hound, both dead.” She then frowned, “Stumptail too…”

Paul nodded slowly, wincing. “You…you killed him?” he asked.

She nodded, “Pox did. Under curse, had to get to you. He was in the way.”

Paul frowned and nodded again, “How did you kill Gnarltooth? I thought you were cursed to come after me?”

She rubbed at his head slowly, “Hound enforced curse. When hound died, curse broken,” she said, “Just in time too…Pox was going to kill you.”

He closed his eyes, “Thank goodness for small favors,” he sighed softly, then perked up, looking at the other rat, then to Pox. “How’s Tick?” he asked.

“Hurt bad, but alive. You both lost lots of blood. Will be okay though, gave nasty juice and stopped bleeding.” she said, still petting Paul’s hair.

He nodded again and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry for what happened… those men…”

Pox pressed a finger to his lips, “Shush. Not your fault. Just dumb humans. Need learn stay away,” she said. “No one in clan blames you for them. You help clan, you one of us.”

Paul sighed and relented, moving a hand to Pox’s, and kissing her fingers a few times. “What’s going to happen now that Gnarltooth and Stumptail are gone?” he asked.

Pox shrugged, “Not sure. Not for you to worry about. You worry about resting and healing,” she said. “Pox will take care of you and ticktock.”

Paul smiled at that and nodded, “Thank you,” he said. “Are you okay?”

Pox nodded, “Yes, Pox is fine, only few bruises and scratches.” She then leaned down and kissed Paul’s lips, “Our pup fine too,” she said, whispering it into his ear.

Paul blinked a moment, “Wait…what? Pup?” he asked, looking up at Pox, who just sat there with an impish grin on her muzzle.