I have written this story as a response to Jazzyart's Challenge #2. I did la-de-la-de-la-de-la writing, so the story won't be too good. Or maybe it is.

Disclaimer: Gafna, Matoran, Voya Nui, and all of the Bionicle terms/storyline/anything belong to Lego.

As a rodent-like quadro-pegged Rahi with an energy-blasting tail, most would've mistaken him for a Gafna. Unfortunately for the assumer, he actually was a Gafna.

He lived with his family/pack members (depends on how you look at them) on the Southern Continent. Or had lived there. That would have normally implied that he was either dead or had been relocated. As of the now, he considered himself lucky to be even alive.

Anyways, he had been living the Southern Continent. He'd lived, in general, a good life. Matoran, those lazy, stupid beasts, had built themselves a large group of buildings right on top of the Gafna colony he had been living in. As a result, much of the colony had been forced to migrate or adapt their lifestyle. He had been one of the Gafnas that stayed.

He approached home. It was an average-sized hut, with two stories and round, about seven lengths of him in diameter. He might've been welcome, he might not have been. He'd never know. The Matoran occupant had no idea that he co-occupied the building with this rodent. The Gafna always slipped in through a hole in the wall that fed into a small tunnel, connecting the top and bottom stories. When the Matoran occupant of the home fell asleep, he would emerge and steal (cleaning out scraps, he'd always tell himself, or necessitating the home to its minimal required amount of supplies) whatever food he could find. During the day, he'd be in one of the many communion points for gafnas: in the nearby forest, in a dump, anywhere where Matoran didn't go. He'd hang out with whatever of his friends had remained to live in this village.

It had been a good life, all in all.

Then came the Great Cataclysm.

Of course, he never knew it as the Great Cataclysm, only as "the earth-shaking event that changed my life forever." What had happened was life-shattering.

First, the entire world had trembled, shuddered, and shook (true enough). Then the sky itself seemed to shake harder. The previous statement had been proven true when it shattered. The next seconds, minutes, or hours had been hard ones for him. He couldn't tell which unit of time had passed, only that he could curse that time. He held on desperately as a crescent of land shot up through this sky-hole.

During the ascent of Voya Nui, the Gafna held on for all life. He couldn't tell whether he was breathing air or water. He had been lucky. It would be revealed later that many lifeforms had died. Halfway through the ascent, he had slammed into something. He couldn't tell anything about it, except that it was sturdy. He held on for dear life.

When it was all over, he surveyed his surroundings. Everything was tossed around, like the aftermath of a certain Matoran in the village. Or former village. All that was left of it now were the bashed-up foundations. Then he looked down.

Even if he did not a soul, being a Rahi, he still gasped and reacted the way any Matoran would've; he sped backwards as fast as he could.

He had been staring at the dead, washed-up face of a Matoran, his body crushed under a rock.

I am gonna stop here because I wrote this stuff some time ago, so the styles might not match. And I'm plum outta ideas.