The Forgotten: Option 2

The very air itself burns Hotaru’s lungs. Each breath scraped his throat like sandpaper, flooding his nostrils with the scent of dust and cold stone. Dark mud that had long since dried flakes from his fur, and is sent swirling by swift paws. 

Over a dozen smoked fish dangle from around his neck, strung by the gills on a thin rawhide cord. Two large chunks of meat are stashed in canvas sacks, tied together and slung over his shoulders. His partners in crime each carried similar loads. 

Onwards they run, galloping through the rough, winding tunnels that The Forgotten claimed as theirs. The sounds of pursuit had long since died down. However, their sense of urgency had not. Hidden away in the dark spaces were haedians, many pups, with bellies that had long been empty. 

Ahead, Kul was just barely visible in the encroaching gloom. A thick coat of mud, now dried, helped his dark coat and twisting stripes almost disappear against the stone. Behind him Hotaru could hear the staccato drum of Red’s massive paws, heavier still due to the prize he bore. He and his bounty were a macabre sight; the whole carcass of some unfortunate subterranean creature, split and cured, was tied by the legs around his neck and waist. That idea had been Kul’s, who at the last moment insisted that they absolutely, no argument, had to take the gigantic thing.

The raid had been justified, in a way. Fires in the depths came at a cost. When a roaming group decided to hunt the upper caverns, and smoke their catch, it was The Forgotten that paid. Acrid smoke had billowed upwards, drifting through the caves in a smothering haze. Several families had been driven out of their homes which, while rudimentary, were still all they had.

As Hotaru veered around a stalagmite, claws leaving white lines in the stone, he couldn’t help but think of how it all began.

Several hours earlier.

Success. An unguarded pile of construction materials had proven to be an easy target for the three Vayron. They’d managed to bring back long coils of rope, pouches of nails, and even a small barrel of pitch. The ill-gotten assortment had been met with surprise and an almost palpable feeling of relief from the marginalized Haedians, who had quickly collected the materials and distributed them among the group. 

It wasn't only material help that they needed, though. Bone protruded in harsh angles under dull fur and scales, their bodies lean in a way that spoke of long term hunger. Hotaru's tail flicked, beckoning his fellow vayrons. He quietly withdrew from the crowd, weaving around stalagmites until he stopped at a clear spring-fed pool.

"They need food," Red rumbles, breath ruffling the surface of the water as he crouches to take a drink. "Even the pups are hungry."

Hotaru's ears went flat to his head, eyes downcast. "There's no way we can help them all."

Kul’s razor mane bristles at Hotaru’s tone. Ever the vayron to choose anger first. “The hell we can’t. For every one of ‘em we feed, that’s another day they can live to pass it on t’ the rest.”

Hotaru flinches at the dark-furred puller's tone, claws digging into the soft mud around the edge of the pool. "Okay. Okay, then what do we do? Last time we got lucky. I don't think we can do that again, not without getting caught."

Red hums in agreement, settling on his hindquarters beside the smaller puller. "Maybe we could sneak in, get in and grab what we can before they even know we are there."

Kul lifts his head as Red speaks, his furrowed brows raising and his frown curling up into a small smirk. 

“Yehhh,” he nods, “That’s good...” Then his nod slowly stops as a concept unfolds in his head, “but, uh… Somethin’ tells me they wouldn’t just leave it all unguarded.”

Red snorts, "No, I sincerely doubt they will. Not after last time. Sounds like you might have an idea for dealing with that?"

Both of the russet pullers turn their eyes to Kul, one curious, the other cautious.

Kul’s bandaged tail tip flicks as a plan takes form between his big, round ears. Simple, but effective.

“Well, I ain’t the sneaky sort, ya know. My style’s a bit more rowdy. Maybe that’s just what we need fer this job. They’ll be lookin’ at me while you guys get away- but, er...” He trails off a little, eyeing the pair of bigger, brighter males. “They won’t be watchin’ me very long, once they notice the two big, red, sore thumbs haulin’ off with their food...”

Hotaru, who had been idly tracing shapes in the mud with his claw, pauses. Teal eyes flicker from Red to the dark grey-brown mud, and back again. Then he lifts his paw, one sickle claw extended to show the earth caked on its tip. "I may have a solution in mind for that problem."

Red recoils, scooting backwards on his rear, away from the younger puller. "No, thank you. I'm sure I can manage just fine, no need for any of that. I'm good."

Kul eyes the mud and his smile widens, showing sharp white teeth.

“Yeah, big guy?” He taunts, “Ya think so, do ya? I dunno... The only thing that stands out more than your bright, red fur is your stink! You ain’t sneakin’ nowhere without a disguise.” He palms a fistful of muck that squelches between his claws, and flashes teeth in a wicked grin.

Red ducks his head so his eyes are level with Kul's, ears pinned. "I do not stink. If anyone here stinks it's you," he growls, missing the rest of what Kul had said in his sudden affront. 

Hotaru winces, slowly backing away from the pair. This was not going to end well.

Red stiffens, a peculiar expression flickering across his muzzle as his brain catches up with Kul's words. "Oh don't you dare, you little-"

SPLAT!

Kul waited for just the right moment to loose a big gob of mud all over Red’s big mug. His tail waves in the air as he crouches in preparation for him to retaliate, claws already curling over the next pawful. “What was that? I didn’t hear ya over the mouthful o’ muck!”

Fur stands up along Red's spine, pupils narrowing to pinpoints. A snarl begins deep in his chest, building, then spills out between bared teeth.

Watching the display, Hotaru sighs, drags his paw through the mud, and slaps Red hard on his rump. The striped puller whips around, teeth snapping closed scarcely an inch from Hotaru's extremely unimpressed face. Tension thickens the air between them - then breaks. Closing his eyes, Red slowly exhales and seems to deflate. "Okay. Let's do it. Go ahead."

Kul’s brows shoot up as Hotaru joins in, his harsh laugh caught in his throat and causing him to snort loudly. But just as the fun was about to begin, it’s over as Red gives in. 

Kul’s gaze rolls to the side, at his scarlet swirled ally, and he hurls the mud at him instead. “You get some too, pretty boy,” he sneers.

One brow quirking, Hotaru's gaze slides from Kul to the mud splattered across his pelt. "Surely that isn't the best you can do. This is far more efficient." With that he drops, flopping down right into the dirt. He rolls, legs in the air, coating his pelt in grey-brown.

Red screws his eyes shut, then begins taking pawfuls of mud and smearing it into his fur as well, shuddering.

Kul snickers at the sight of the two of them. And then, with a roll of his scruffy shoulders, he throws himself into the muck and flails feet and tail about, filling his wiry coat with mud and concealing his tabby markings alongside the others. If nothing else, it will keep the other clan from recognizing him later.

It doesn’t take long for the trio to fully coat themselves, especially when Kul and Hotaru team up to slather globs of mud on the larger puller. Red takes the lead as the set off through the twisting maze of tunnels, ears pricked and nostrils flaring.

Smoke is what gives their prey away. Tinged with the scent of cooking meat, it licks at the ceiling with gray tendrils. They follow it downwards, into the deepening haze and gloomy depths. They have mouths to feed.