spacing issues should be fixed!
He didn't understand.
His vision was a spiraling mess of colors; black and turquoise, black and red. Red, red, red; red like fire, greedily devouring him and setting him alight. It was on him, under him, his muscles magma—everything inside was magma. Bubbling and burning and sizzling in his ears, and he couldn't hear his scream even though it tore his throat to shreds.
He tried to fight it, to fight the invisible enemy, but he only saw swirling blackness when his eyes forced open. Immediately, he was struck with vertigo, and he felt himself faltering and wavering and now lurching. Fiercely, he tried to shake it off, to persist, to attack , but his limbs just buckled and sent him crashing. Fear, sharp and icy, shot through him before his jaw smashed almost promptly into something hard. He… he had expected to tumble into the darkness… and he definitely hadn't anticipated his teeth meeting his tongue in his mouth.
He laid there for a few moments, his breath coming in quick huffs. Everything, every knot in his body, was unwinding and bursting to life. His hearing popped. His vision was wrought with blurs of the real world. The taste of iron permeated his tongue, wet and rank.
He clenched his eyes tight, curling in his claws as he fought with himself to move. Every heavy muscle screamed complaints, and he couldn't argue with them, so he just let his head fall. But reason yelled in the back of his mind, and slowly, carefully, he tried to ease himself up. Forelimbs and torso first, then his abdomen and rear legs. They didn't fail him again, but they whimpered objections feebly. He shook his angry head softly, letting out the slightest wheeze. He only then noticed the wet dribbling steadily from his chin; the rest of the wet just otherwise congesting his mouth and filling it with an overwhelming metallic tang. He unnaturally manipulated his mouth enough to spit the worst out. His face was left dully aching, but, glancing down, he froze. His pains quickly transformed into the least of his worries.
At his feet was a turquoise ooze, glowing with the faintest life. A daring whuff proved it to be awful stuff that burned and stung the inside of his nostrils and disturbed something profound that he couldn't comprehend. His body screeched to get away, and he tried , but everything just gave out, and then he was kneeling.
He thought he heard something: a quiet, unintelligible murmur, a hesitant whisper. Something. But the idea slipped from his mind as pain jolted up his neck from trying to look. He only gritted his teeth, a whimper clawing up his throat and out his mouth.
He had to get out of here. This place had already shown itself to be dreadful and dangerous. He could get himself out and then figure everything else out later. He wasn't safe with this ooze and the ghosts of pain and the whispers—it was still going and getting louder too. He managed a growl, and something whimpered and moved. He dug his claws into the hard surface and shoved himself forward, right back to and over the turquoise ooze. His limbs actually worked, for once in this existence; they didn't buckle or give out or just fail. He whirled around, teeth bared, grumbling furiously and—
The noise sputtered with shock. Three green creatures, one uncomfortably close, with hard plates and colorful eye markings. The closest one had big eyes, wide, and it was breathing heavily with its paws to its chest. It swallowed thickly, and then backed up, murmuring. The Whisperer. The two behind it were approaching… Wait, no, no, no, one had weapons. Silvery and sharp and clutched in its paws and it was getting closer to him. Immediately, he snarled and snapped, but they only paused before resuming.
Panic burned in his chest as he growled and stumbled back. He shot his gaze around the room rapidly, panting and huffing too with the exertion. To his great terror, the only exit was behind the threats.
But… he was bigger. He squared down, tensed. Maybe one had its sharp things out, but he was stronger and bigger and… scarier, right? Whisperer, the orange one, was scared, wasn't it? He experimentally leaped forward and snarled, and they careened away. Yes!
He stepped back, wheezing regardless. Everything smarted with biting pain and ached, and the creatures might have noticed his attention on the exit, so he'd have to be just right. They were shifting toward it, to block it more. They didn't stop when he grumbled either.
He had to go now, now, before they got too close and dangerous with their weapons. He saw them all now; on the ground, around twos' waist at this point. He crouched, growled, and the creatures that might be monster turtles started to look at each other and communicate. Or, at least, what he absently assumed to be communication as he surged forward.
They squawked and moved toward him, but his eyes were dead-set on the exit. He could make it; he was making it—he was almost there—
Weight landed on his shoulders, pressure struck his neck, and he tumbled with a furious bay. His cheek hit the ground hard. The world spun and heaved as the weight distantly yelled. More yelling, less whirling, and he could feel other paws clamping down on him. He opened his mouth to scream, but claws slammed down on his snout. He tried to thrash, but they had an expert handle on him, and he was still weak, and he couldn't move.
With the wave of panic, he slipped his head free and snapped blindly; he heard a yelp and tasted fresh iron on his tongue. The touch retracted, if only for a moment. Quickly, he tried to rush forward, but arms closed around his neck and pushed him down. No amount of attempting to flail did him any good anymore. No squirming, no roaring; it was futile now, and his breaths were turning into harsh gasps. His limbs burned, ached, were so heavy; his head too. His vision blurred, and his head dropped without his consent.
He had lost.
He bared his teeth and tensed, anticipating the worst. The monsters with sharp weapons and claws had caught him. He was completely at their mercy. He'd lost his chance, and he would die here before he even figured out where "here" was. Blue had its elongated, silvery talon at his neck; he knew it. It was just waiting for him to completely yield.
Well, I won't. Growling, he abruptly lashed out, heaving himself against them again. But he had little strength remaining, and what dregs he had pooled together were nothing under the monsters. His neck succumbed again, and he had his cheek pressed against the stony ground, glaring Whisperer in the eye. It had the audacity to smile, and when he snarled through everything, it made a tight-mouthed hiss, soft and quiet, and it still bore the grin. He curled his lip, gasped for air, and then showed it what a real hiss was.
It blinked and brought its head back with its grin absent. Something glinted in its eyes, then shimmered, but then it was smiling again and trailing one paw up and down his arm, the other lodged under the same limb and keeping him trapped. He huffed and could only find any more strength to reel in his breathing. Only a growl was mustered when one of the monsters touched his head lightly.
He still waited in apprehension for the long claw, but the monsters were just touching his neck and head and arm lightly and making more of those muted hisses. He forced his head back to see Blue's weapon wasn't actually directed at him at all… he couldn't even see it. Blue quirked its lip too at his attention, and he didn't know what to do.
They just continued talking and touching him—petting him. He couldn't grasp why, but his body hurt, and he couldn't do anything about it. They weren't too rough now, even if they still kept him practically immobile. But he felt the arms around his neck loosening, the paw locking his shoulders lightening, the icicle on his spine melting. Instinctively, he shifted, and it all crashed back with heightened whispering and patting.
He heaved a whimper as he sharply tugged his head free. The momentum toppled him back and all the turtles off him, and he landed on his side with a wheeze. They called out and scrambled for him, reaching out with their paws—and he flattened himself to the ground and whined, staring with the most pathetic look he could muster. The monsters had proven their dominance long ago. He just wanted them to depart and leave him alone and stop touching him now. Is it that hard? he thought as they still came closer, albeit slower, more quietly, but just as open-armed. He grimaced as he pressed his sore cheek to the ground and rolled uncomfortably to his side in one last desperate attempt to make them go away.
"Donnie?"
He froze, eyes snapping open. They persisted talking, but he remained fixed. That word… that word meant something. Meant a lot. The way it was said, so heartily. The way it affected him. He couldn't understand a bit of it, the word nor the concept. So… why was it so important?
A turtle with red markings, Red, was holding a paw out. He blinked out of it and painfully brought his head over to brush it; to see what it meant to it and to him, to try to answer his question.
Promptly, it— it? he? he—smelled of salt and sweat, and Donnie wrinkled his nose and pulled back. He saw him now, green eyes bright, the slightest smile, a "Donnie?" on his lips. He couldn't make heads-or-tails of it, but it had to be important—big, sentimental, something .
But he couldn't understand it.
Red's eyes dropped too, and he pulled away. They were glossy now, and he hid his face in his paws. He observed quietly, discomfort pulsing in his mind until Whisperer put one paw on Red's shoulder and extended the other out to him. He blinked at it and reluctantly nudged it. He scrunched his face up again because, ugh, these turtles didn't smell the best, but his heart stuttered at the thought of disappointing them. Again. He already had with Red for… some reason. He gazed at Whisperer quickly, biting his tongue, but he seemed fine; eyes maybe not as bright, but he was smiling, and his mind continued to tell him that was good. So he dared a glance at Red. He jumped to see the metallic claws out and even more to see him trying to strangle them with a bloody paw.
Blue spoke something directed at Red, his(?) voice smooth and quiet, from what he could tell. Red glowered for a long time while Whisperer patted his neck (he didn't know why he never noticed it, but it was too late to stop Whisperer now) before he grunted and put the claws in a… He narrowed his eyes. It was brown; he could tell that much, but a lot else was beyond him. Markings you can put items in? He shook his head with a disbelieving snort.
It was Blue's turn to reach out a paw. He expected it, was ready and prepared for his own flavor, but Blue didn't go through. Not properly. Blue was tapping his shoulder and pointing up, and everyone else had at some point stood. He saw Red was looking away, and Whisperer was with him.
Blue poked him hard suddenly, and he curled his lip. Blue may think he had dominance, but he'd get him back and prove himself better when he didn't hurt so much. He glanced at him as he made odd gestures with his paws. Interest pushed him up despite all his screaming muscles.
Blue smiled, reaching out a paw for his shoulder, but as he kept a wary eye on it, Blue seemed to think better of it and just started to walk backward. He still made those motions—those annoyingly prompting and confusing motions. He couldn't quite tell what it meant, but when he hobbled forward, Whisperer next to Blue beamed and nodded.
He remained still even as they intensified the movements. He didn't even know who these turtles were, who he was, what even happened… so why should he follow them? Was that even what they wanted?
He blinked sluggishly and supposed he hadn't a clue of anywhere else to go. He'd detect suspicious trouble too. Maybe they'd bring him to a nice place to sleep. Or a place with food or water; Whisperer smelled a lot like food, even if it wasn't necessarily good. He licked his lips and trotted forward. That sounded amazing still.
After a few moments of it, he realized the turtles were leading him to the exit they only recently barred him from. Intrigue opened his eyes wider, pushed his legs farther. They had acted like they didn't want him to go out, and now they were leading him there; rather eagerly too. He felt compelled to follow by curiosity, if not by the sheer instinctual, blind trust that made his gut churn. It wasn't right…
But they weren't hurting him anymore and only looked… nice. In that instant, he was hit with regret as he paused in the tunnel entrance. He should've proceeded and smelled them better, no matter their immediate taste.
As he stared down the long path, he resolved to begin being more thorough by investigating the space before just padding obliviously. It was… rank with a tinge of sting as he lifted his nose. But that was brought in by drafts through the opening he spotted at the end. More snuffing the floor, and he decided it was fine enough. The turtles stood, coaxing him, so it seemed. He trilled uncertainly before submitting.
They were turning around now as though they trusted him to continue trailing after them, but they were still glancing back. Whisperer and Red most commonly, he noted.
The frosty sting was getting sharper, and the turtles were getting slower and now talking. They glanced back at him more in their brief dialogue before Whisperer came near. Whisperer patted his arm and smiled, directing one of his weird strings of foreign language at him, but he didn't understand, and he found it difficult to care. Whisperer lingered like that longer, grin fading again. He took the time to shuffle closer and push his nose close to his neck to break the unpleasant silence. Whisperer stiffened under him, a paw on his neck, "Donnie?" ghosting past his ear. Whisperer was quiet for another beat as he attempted to comprehend all the information he'd disinterred, but then limbs looped around his neck and a head pressed against his chest suddenly and with force. He jerked back with a startled puff, braced to defend. But Whisperer just nuzzled closer. Wet. His face was wet.
He didn't know why it was wet.
A low whine built in his throat as he did the only thing some distant instinct in the back of his mind told him; fondle back.
He jumped when Blue joined, cheek to his leg. But he was ready when Red did at last. A loose grip, eyes set on a far wall. He glanced over, but he didn't see anything of interest. Red must've had advanced sight to see something he failed to.
Never mind that. They were all on them. All these touchy strangers with their unnatural shiny claws, their tangible markings, some kind of familial scent he'd only now perceived, their curious masks… Were they like pouches too? He leaned forward and nosed a slightly trembling Red— he couldn't tell if the masks were scales by the brief examination, but he knew Red was cold, so he pressed himself closer. They were all shaking and cold, he noticed, and… he was too. Did they mean to bring him outthere in the freezing cold? Wherever they wanted to go better be near.
Blue pulled away, paws on the other two. He spoke as he looked up at him, his eyes twinkling with something. He didn't know a sliver of what he said, except for Donnie. That haunting word that always came up and that he knew in his heart.
But he didn't know in his head. That was probably more important.
He tried to shake away the achiness in his body as Blue and Whisperer called to him and moved back again. His steps were more even than he anticipated. He made it to the entrance with relative ease. It had two big silvery flaps, slightly ajar. He inched closer, sticking his nose closer as he wondered how they'd get through—until Whisperer nudged it wider.
Immediately, he was struck with sharp, frigid wind that bit his skin and stung his eyes and he had to jump back. The zephyr carried alien sensations: Smoke, pollution, something sickeningly cloying, blaring, awful sounds. And they were actually encouraging him out into the field of... not-okay. They were outside in it, and he was tempted to rush out and pull them back inside. But they were scooting back toward a stone wall and talking and—they were gone?
He was puzzled only a moment before panicked. Whuffing desperately, he pushed himself forward and boldly stuck his nose out the entrance first, and then his head. The sounds and scents were even acuter; he couldn't decipher Whisperer's most familiar scent among it all. His heart stuttered until someone clicked over all the noises. He brought his gaze up, and they were waiting on a similarly stony-looking top.
Relief was a pleasant tide. He gazed for another beat before he wiggled his shoulders through. Then his back, then his haunches with some difficulty. But he got it with a heave and a blizzard of dust, plus more stinging eyes and a personal meeting with the rough ground. With the cold and encroaching fatigue and reignited pain, he was keen on lying there for a bit longer until someone called him again. He puffed but complied, picking himself up. Tipping his head up, the turtles were patting the edge pretty enthusiastically; Whisperer and Blue anyway. What did they want from him though? Did they want him to jump up there? He could… probably do that.
He released another puff, took a deep breath, and he was preparing himself to jump. They moved back, and he leaped.
The bizarre stone shattered and crumbled upon his landing. He swayed with the abrupt unbalance, but he stuck his tail out and managed to capture a secure perch. He glanced at the shards and fragments curiously and was nudging a pair until one turtle gave one of those hisses. His attention snapped back up. Whisperer had outstretched eyes on him and a digit to his lips while Blue's and Red's heads flew around. He quirked his lip up and chuffed, but Whisperer shushed once more. He still didn't know what it meant exactly, so he lowered his head to rumble a question. Red suddenly and swiftly had paws clamping his jaws closed, hushing, and he, at last, got the idea.
Red still had his snout as he urged him forward and over the top, right to an opening in the precise cliffs. He thrust a digit down, whispering tons, and he sniffed the finger briefly before following the direction of it. He looked at Red for confirmation, stared for a few seconds, and then slipped down.
The room to maneuver was scant, and his muzzle was scathed by the wall as he tried to turn. It stung while he crouched, whimpering. He glanced up, searching for those turtles, but then suddenly they were at his feet and gazing away long and hard, patting him absently and making the "shhhh." He tried to quash the sound for them.
The reason for hiding was beyond him. He could only assume all the other living creatures he heard over the auditory overload were dangerous, but he thought the same about these turtles too. But they were scared too; it was an acrid smell that was worse than everything. With the thought, his claws unsheathed fully, ivory glinting in the artificial lights everywhere.
He felt like they'd been down there for an interminable length of time before Blue finally moved from the tensed position. Everyone did too with sighs, but he could hardly stretch.
He watched as they scaled the side adeptly, leaving him again alone. They patted again with more gentle encouragement, but he struggled to turn. There was no way he could jump.
He angled his head up and whined. They whispered and furrowed their eyes but did nothing more than tap and click. He sat forlornly and fidgeted. What could he do?
He paused. He could… yeah, maybe. Cautiously he rose up and reared back on his hind limbs. His claws just barely clicked on the edge. He braced a bit, then heaved. Scrabbling, he but slid back down. It was the closest he'd gotten, so he kept trying. It took four more attempts, and he didn't pick himself up afterward. The turtles, after a second or two, fell down by him.
He brought his head over and extended it to Red. He'd never gotten a really good sniff of him. Red was stiff but allowed it. He still was a lot of salt and sweat, but he had that tang too; the warm, fuzzy one that called "home" to him. He didn't know where that was.
It was Blue's turn for real. It was actually already offered, and he just accepted. He noted Blue smelled much nicer, crisp and herbal. It was intermixed with more of the familiar salt, but definitely the Home. They all shared something that made his chest warm. He pondered it a long while, even after they forced him up and onward.
He was limping after his brothers (it was what he concluded since he didn't know what else to assume) by the time they had him run through a large opening and down into some awful tunnels. They were hot, dank, dark, foul. The deeper into the bowels they went, the wider the channel of sludge grew—whatever that was, he didn't trust it. It was a pain with his shakiness and roughed pads to avoid. The turtles trudged right through it. He could see they were much more at ease under the bustling Above. They walked without fear, without hesitance. He tried to mimic them.
Much to his relief, his brothers took a turn into another tunnel that looked to be clear. The passage was a tight fit, much to his distaste. He'd almost gotten himself stuck multiple times, but he triumphed.
They walked him more, a lot more, past trenches with rails and metal and unnervingly large spaces. The tunnels were opening up still as they pushed him even farther. A few more turns and his muscles burned, but he recognized, up ahead, a faint glow cutting through the dim. He thought he saw a wide entrance, but his tired eyes could be deceiving him.
Blue halted, turning to Whisperer and uttering something while Red stared ahead. Whisperer muttered and looked at him, but suddenly he was off sprinting before he could try to smile at him. He watched after him, bewilderment edging on offense until Blue clicked. He was already walking; he had to follow.
He was noticing fresher scents from the yawning entrance— not extreme but intriguing nonetheless. There was something else too that made his nose twitch; familiar maybe, like the turtles, his brothers. He paused to consider it, mulled it in his brain, then complied to Blue's urging. They probably wouldn't bring him anywhere bad. And he felt drawn to that opening too. It shouldn't and couldn't be pain. He even pushed himself more; he was eager to—
He froze. A voice, a voice not belonging to Whisperer, was ahead and through the arch. Something low and husky. Cracking, he recognized. And Whisperer too, faintly, quiet as always. He swallowed thickly. That… voice wouldn't be bad, would it? Whisperer didn't sound too distressed and…
Red touched his arm suddenly and thrust his thumb back. He stepped away with a face that looked to be bridging… some kind of sadness. But they were urging him to go on, and they hadn't hurt him again—he obeyed.
Anticipation curled in his gut as they brought him closer. Queries hazed his mind and, despite everything, pushed his legs farther. He was beyond caution and wanted to know.
As they were close to rounding the corner, he paused, holding his breath. He heard a call from the mystery voice, directed at his brothers. He backed away first, releasing it in a puff. But the mystery voice, with thought, had the same layer his brothers' did (mostly) when they talked to him. He considered more, searching Blue's eyes—whoa, they were blue too—with questions that he didn't know how to voice burning in his throat. Steam and smoke built up in his mouth; he puffed and freed it in a sigh, keeping his head low and alert as he rounded the corner.
He halted almost instantly, eyes fixed on the creature. Its attention met him straight, the… furred thing. He'd anticipated another turtle, not what looked to be a rat. But he supposed that tonight was just full of surprises. And it had its paw out and was beckoning him rather softly and nicely, so he began to pick his way to it.
He knocked his paw and tripped on the strange obstacles blocking the path. He sure didn't appreciate getting his jaw slammed into the ground again; he picked himself up swiftly though. Rat had its ears flattened at him, but they were perking up as he got nearer. He noted Whisperer's rather intent attention on him. He heard his other brothers behind him too, and he wondered fleetingly why they kept so close.
He paused to gaze up at Rat, to look into its eyes; they almost intimidated him. Brown, almost red, shiny—but they weren't mean. Not now. Rat frowned, but he didn't think it was mean either. Sad, maybe. He knew what that was. He felt sad too; his legs hurt and he was really warm now and awfully confused.
It extended its paw suddenly, murmuring, saying that "D" word everyone but him knew, brushing his cheek—he jumped with a gasp. It jerked as well but didn't move much otherwise… except for getting more intimate, palm lingering over his jaw. He tolerated it only because it looked so upset and his brothers had brought him here for a reason, and it was with a trembling jaw. It spoke to him quietly, a little rapidly, now holding a paw under his chin. He focused on its eyes once more for a long beat, then he lowered his head, investigating thoroughly. And it wasn't half bad; a lot more herb than Blue, still nice, but still rat… He swallowed thickly as his mouth watered. He couldn't think of this rat like that… not when it—he possessed the special Home scent that made him fuzzy inside. He hesitated and subsequently nuzzled the paw that pet back.
His brothers came around after it, talking in their speak. (He really wondered what Rat was to him. Another brother?) He laid down where he formerly stood, and his limbs screamed appreciation. He sighed, deep and pleasant, putting his head on his paws. It was hard, but it was relief.
He didn't think he'd dozed off until Red was nudging him. He picked his head up, staring blearily. Red just poked him again, standing and gesturing. He looked a bit more… lively. Which was a lot more than he could say for himself right now. He would humor Red for only a little while longer, he decided as he shakily brought himself up. Too far, and he'd balk.
Red led him away from the large main area and toward and smaller side; past a chamber that smelled distinctly delicious and called to him. But Red turned to a relatively open space, and he froze behind his brother in awe.
There were all kinds of mats on the floor, protecting his roughed pads from any more punishment. On the walls, there were all kinds of weapons, glimmering and sharp-edged but harmless on elaborate sticks and metal. In the middle in a halo of that artificial light was a large tree rooted. It called to him even more than that food room, and he trotted over.
He heard his family's clicks for his attention, but he ignored them for a second, brushing his snout over the bark. It was uneven, kinda craggy, bumpy. He stepped back and took a proper gaze about the room. This place would need proper exploring tomorrow.
His brothers rested on a bunch of colorful skins and rocks, patting the ground with his renewed attention. He didn't see Rat.
He didn't expect it, but the skins and the rocks were extraordinarily soft when he made contact. He marveled a second, then curled up promptly. The rocks had amazing give; he could bury his face in it. So, he did, a tiny purr hovering in his chest as he felt multiple paws fall on him.
He was hardly aware when he felt the new touch. He recognized Rat, but it was up, around his eye, gentle, delicate acts. He peered up, and there was Rat, eyes bright and narrow. He chirred mutedly, a truly content sigh slipping from him. Those eyes with a gleaming film were so common; maybe they weren't bad. Couldn't be.
He lifted his head to catch Rat's paw and butt it. He purred, then put it back down, satisfied. He felt Rat settling beside him, and he smiled (he hoped) to himself.
No matter how little made sense tonight, he understood one small thing in a minute group: He did not regret following these turtles.
