So, this is a pretty sad chapter. At least, I wanted it to be sad. I'm not good at writing emotions like that. Anyways, School's started, so expect delays.

The message came by night, actually. Or the closest we get to night in the Underland. In any case, it came during the time when my siblings and I were asleep, crowded into the cave with Mother (Father was gone at the time).

I was the only one awake, wedged between the wall and two of my sisters, sourly wondering why my parents had chosen this tiny cave to be their nest. It was way too small. Of course there was the luminous lichen in the walls; that was a relative rarity in this part of the Underland, and therefore a luxury (just because rats don't need light doesn't mean we don't like it). It had been fine when we were pups, but now that we were older the cave was getting pretty cramped, and uncomfortably warm.

No sooner had I begun to fall asleep at long last than I jolted upright. There was another rat approaching! I could smell him, coming up the tunnel to our nest. His smell was different from Father's; sharper, more bitter, and with the taint of dried blood mixed in. Now I could hear his movement, closer and closer… It was only one rat, as far as I could tell, but a grown one, and a large one at that.

I tensed, preparing to leap. I hadn't gone into rager mode since the fight at the Garden, but I felt sure of my abilities. Any second now… any second…

The stranger entered the cave, and I relaxed immediately. It was a rat all right, a large male, but he walked slowly, with his head hung low and his tail dragging on the ground. He looked sad, and one sniff confirmed my suspicions.

As the rat walked across the threshold, Mother lifted her head, snarling. "Who is this that enters our cave while we're asleep? Leave, or I'll-"

The rat sighed wearily. "Even if I wanted to attack you, I doubt I could. I've journeyed here from the Plain of Tartarus, many hours away. Wrathspur is your mate, is he not? I was traveling with him on-"

"What about him?" growled Mother suspiciously. "What about my-"

"I'm afraid he's been killed," said the other rat, bowing his head lower, as if that were possible.

The world swam around me, the cave, my siblings, my mother, all threatening to blank out. Father dead? My father, dead? I was acutely aware of my claws digging into the soft filth of the nest, the dirt becoming trapped beneath my fingernails. It took every morsel of strength to remain silent.

I expected Mother to cry out, like I so desperately wanted to, but she merely stared coldly onward. "How did this happen?"

"It was the killers," answered the other rat. "A small band of them, riding on their fliers. It wasn't his fault. He told me he'd only be gone for a short while, to catch a meal, but by the time I found him, he was lying in a pool of blood, and I could see the monsters flying away in the distance. I chased after them for a while, but…" The rat stopped, apparently unable to continue.

Unable to contain myself any longer, I cried out, a howl of pure anguish. My father, my father who'd taught us to hunt, who'd told me I was a rager, who'd been so angry when I'd sneaked away with Flayclaw… it was a mistake! Father couldn't be dead. He was too great a soldier to be overwhelmed by a few humans.

And yet it was true. I knew in my heart that it was true. This grown rat wouldn't lie, would he? Certainly not about anything so serious. No, my father was gone, gone forever, and there was nothing I could do.

My cry roused my siblings, who leapt to their feet in confusion, smelling the strange rat. I could see my brothers and Flayclaw tensing, preparing for a fight. In response, the rat merely smiled remorsefully, not looking as if he cared whether or not he was attacked.

"Who are you? And where is Father?" demanded Flayclaw, pushing my brothers out of the way with a casual sweep of her tail as she strode forward, intent on eliminating the threat. She stopped feet from her intended victim, puzzled, when he did not even raise his head.

"You don't understand," said the rat weakly. "I was on patrol with your father. There was a fight. I would have helped, but I arrived too late. He was beset by a party of killers mounted on fliers, and by the time I found him he was bleeding to death. The killers had fled. There was nothing I could do. But I heard what he said last. He told me… to take care… of… his family…" The rat broke down, and covered his face with his paws, his body racked with involuntary spasms, tears streaming down his muzzle and falling to the filthy floor of our nest, the nest that Father had made.

At this, all of my siblings, even bold, tough Flayclaw, each began to howl. For what felt like hours, our howls and cries reverberated through the caverns, rebounding from the cliff to the river, the Waterway to the Firelands, the lone memento of our sheer pain.

…

"He was a valiant fighter," murmured the rat, some time after our keening had ended. My siblings and Mother were lying about like stones, unable to move. "I saw in the distance that two of the killers were supporting a limp third between them, and I smelled their blood mixed in with your Father's. He would have easily defeated them, had he not been so drastically outnumbered; seven to his one."

Flayclaw turned on him, snarling ferociously. "You beast! Why didn't you give chase to them, avenge Father?"

"I tried to," mumbled the rat shamefacedly. "I followed them through several caverns, but they flew far ahead, and I lost them. Believe me, if there was anything I could have done for Wrathspur, I would."

"Forgive me," said Flayclaw tonelessly, backing away.

The rat got to his feet and headed for the opening. "Wrathspur may have been overwhelmed, but he was a brave and honorable rat. I've known him for a long time, and he was one of the best creatures I've ever met. Each of you would do well to follow in his footsteps, to carry on his legacy," he said, and I noticed with a pang of guilt that he seemed to be looking especially at me, almost as if he knew my secret.

"Well, I must be off. I'll have to notify the king of Wrathspur's death. I'm sure he'll be devastated." And with that, the rat trudged off down the tunnel, and was soon lost from sight.

I won't describe the next day or so in detail. Even now, years after the fact, the memories are still painful. Gnawers don't spend as much time mourning as humans, but we were still young, and to lose your father in such an abrupt way is traumatic for any species.

My family lamented. So did I, but my grieving was disrupted by the shame which kept resurfacing and nagging at me, like a particularly annoying shiner. I knew that I was a rager, that I could avenge Father's death. Yet, here I was, mourning and doing nothing. Father had told me not to disclose the fact that I was a rager. He had warned me repeatedly about it. But I was almost grown now. Surely I was old enough to make my own decision?

I felt torn in half. One part of me argued to track down the killers who had killed Father and avenge his death; the other side insisted that I keep my abilities secret until I was older. Both halves of me felt that following the other would be a disgrace to Father's memory.

Huddled in the corner, I burst into confused tears. Instantly, I was ashamed with myself. What would Father have said if he'd seen me crying? Tears were for females, not males, and definitely not ragers. Father would have been most disappointed. This thought, in turn, made me cry all the harder.

Some time later (it could have been minutes; it could have been weeks), my family was finally asleep, huddled together like we had when we were pups, only now with Mother as part of the pile. I was the only one awake, quietly standing by the opening. For the first time, it was clear what I had to do. It was my duty, my destiny.

I marched forward, and then paused. I couldn't just walk out on my family, and never let them know where I'd gone. They'd just lost Father, too. I wouldn't want to double their worries.

I turned to the wall, and dug my claw into the soft stone. I tried to think of something to write, a final message to my family, one that would stay in the stone of our nest forever and ever. It was a hard decision. I pondered for a while, then managed to carve out a jagged I WILL BE ALL RIGHT. Not good, but it would do.

I stood at the cave mouth for a long time, taking in all the scents of our nest, of my family, of my brothers and sisters. I would never smell them again, never again feel safe and protected in our cozy little nest. I was truly on my own now.

After I had gathered my wits about me, I softly murmured, "Goodbye, Mother. Goodbye, Flayclaw, Darkmuzzle, Rockrind, Rustbolt, Bristlecoat. I promise I'll come back someday, when I'm a great warrior." The sound of my words bounced around the cave, echoing from every nook and cranny of the nest I'd grown up in, that I'd lived my life in. I took one last breath, one last glance, and then I was gone, down the tunnel. That was the last time I saw any of them, except for-

But that part comes later. For now, I was a young rat, no longer a pup, which had left in the night, away from all I'd known and loved, away, away, away.

…

Tracking the messenger rat's scent was fairly easy at first. He had taken a straightforward path from our nest down through the tunnels which I'd played in as a pup. I didn't know how far I would be able to follow him, but he'd said he was travelling to notify the king of Father's death, so I figured that it had to be a start.

It felt strange to be on my own; frightening, but at the same time strangely liberating. Nose to the ground, I tracked the rat up and down, in and out of caves and through winding tunnels. The scent was faint in some places, and I lost my way more than once. It was fairly easy when the path led through caves that were familiar to me, but when the tunnels started to become unfamiliar, I became confused more easily. I found myself losing the scent and backtracking more often now.

I was soon farther than I'd ever been from my cave, even when we'd visited the Garden of the Hesperides. I felt vulnerable, unprotected. What if I was attacked? I wasn't yet certain of my rager abilities. What if they deserted me at a time of need? Or what if I became lost, and couldn't find the scent back, and was doomed to die in these deserted tunnels? The worries plagued me, threatening to drag me down with their sheer weight.

After a few hours had passed, I found myself in a particularly large cave. I could sense the stalactites hanging far above me, and had to weave my way through the stalagmites pointing upward from the floor like claws. There were mushrooms, too. I could smell them, and I stopped to eat some. Several were of kinds familiar to me, while others I recognized as poisonous. There were also several which I didn't know. I steered clear of these. Better not to take any chances.

When I had eaten my fill, I rested, slumped against a large pillar. I deliberately cut my rest short, pushing myself onward in an attempt to cover as much ground as possible. My family would certainly have discovered that I was missing by now, and might have decided to track me.

I could smell traces of other gnawers, and even caught glimpses of them every now and then, scurrying about their business, hunting, playing. None paid any attention the young rat trotting purposefully through their caverns.

When I'd first set out, I'd been sad, but also cheerful in a way, excited to be doing something real for the first time in my life. That feeling was gone now. I was famished and exhausted, and the trail was getting fainter with every step. I was tempted to turn back. My family must be worried sick, especially so soon after Father's death. It was like when I'd run off with Flayclaw as a pup, only much worse.

It was not long before I lost my scent-trail entirely. I was slowly advancing through a narrow tunnel, my claws clicking dully on the rocks, when the sent dissipated from my nose entirely. At first I thought I'd made a mistake, but I had been sure of the scent when I'd entered this tunnel, and there had been no veering-off points since then. No, I was well and truly alone now, with nothing to guide me.

Not for the first time, I considered backtracking. But as I had so many months ago as a pup setting out to explore with Flayclaw, I knew that I'd never live with myself if I did. I had to avenge Father, and this was the only way possible.

It was possible to judge the general direction that the rat had been travelling in, and follow that course. For the next several hours, I guided myself through the tunnels, often backtracking if a tunnel took me too far off the original course. It was slow work, and I was tired. I was much farther than I'd ever been from my nest, and consequently had little experience with pacing myself.

Just as I was thinking that I ought to stop and rest again, I came out into a wide cavern, stretching out far beyond my echolocation on either side. The cave was not particularly deep. I could easily sense the opposing wall, and the tunnels set in it. Separating both sides of the cavern was a great gorge, many lengths deep. I could hear a distant rushing far below, and knew that there was a river at the bottom of the chasm.

I assessed the problem. The canyon was way too wide to leap over, and it didn't seem wise to scale the cliff to the bottom and forge the river there. Even if the current was mild enough to risk crossing, I didn't know what kind of creatures lived in this strange water. Father had told us of giant fish that lived in certain rivers, and fed on flesh…

The thought of Father gave me strength. There had to be a way to cross. Maybe the gorge got narrower at some point. Maybe it was jumpable. I had to try.

I smelled that there had been rats nearby not long ago. They had gone to the left. Hoping to find something, I followed the faint trail.

After strolling along the river bank for a while, I came to a place where there was… something… over the river. It was made of stone, but the stone was not natural. It had been changed, carved into rectangular slats, which were held together in a row by a substance I vaguely recognized as spinner's silk. One end of the row of slats hung from the near bank, and the other end from the edge opposite, so that one could cross by walking on the stone from one bank to another. It was a bridge. But would it hold my weight?

It seemed likely. I could smell that other rats had used the bridge recently, and I was still not yet full size. If they could cross, I should certainly be able to. But what if I slipped off the bridge and fell into the endless chasm beneath?

There was only one way to find out…

I stepped onto the bridge first with my front paws, then with my back. No sooner had I planted my back paws on the stone slat than the entire bridge swayed ominously. I gave a yelp, but did not draw back, and proceeded forward.

It was an uneasy feeling to have the thin stone slats clicking beneath your paws, the only things keeping you above the river. Were they to give way… every echoing click of my claws reminded me of just how far I would fall. Nevertheless, I managed to put one foot in front of the other, and it wasn't until I reached the middle that the fear truly hit me.

The river raged below, a churning mass of water. Far above, suspended almost in midair, I trembled with fear. Those thin, narrow slats… if I started to slip, they would be nothing to dig my claws into. The bridge jiggled with even the slightest movement, threatening to pitch me into the river. I wanted to rush back to the other side, but the logical side of me saw just how stupid that would be. I had already come halfway.

Robotically, I placed a paw forward. I placed another paw forward. I placed another paw forward. I placed another paw forward. Stiffly, I began to march up the other side of the bridge's incline. I thought about how it would be if I wasn't above a canyon. It would be easy, wouldn't it? Easy… easy… only a few slats left… only a few more… just one more stride…

Stepping onto firm ground was the best thing I've ever experienced (apart from being made the Peacemaker, of course). My claws dug into the stone, the wonderful cold stone… my knees buckled as I trembled all over with weakness, and I almost fell into the chasm. That would have been really embarrassing. But no, after I had gotten my bearings I continued on into a nearby tunnel.

Crossing the bridge had left me so tense that I practically dashed through the series of caverns and tunnels. I hadn't eaten or slept in a long time, but I barely noticed. I proceeded on my careless way… until with a start I noticed that two rats had materialized, seemingly out of the stone, and were blocking my path.

The rats didn't look like ones I'd want to mess with, even with my (albeit untested) rager abilities. Not only were they large enough to dwarf Father, they were also pockmarked by what looked like the scars of numerous battles. One was missing an eye, and the other limped slightly on his right forepaw. Both of them were smirking as they stared at me, sizing me up. Well, if they wanted a fight, they were in for more than they'd anticipated. I could already feel the rager sensation bubbling up inside me.

"State your name and business," demanded the one with the limp, and I realized that they were guards.

"I need to see the king," I growled, in no mood to parry with these rats, not so soon after Father's death.

"And your name is…?" prompted the one with the missing eye.

"Ripred," I practically snarled, becoming increasingly frustrated. Why couldn't they just get out of the way?

"Well, pup, the king has more important things to do than fraternize with half-grown brats like you," said One-Eye. "Now, hurry on back to your mother."

This comment angered me. I may not yet have been fully grown, but I was at the age where I ought to have been taken seriously. "It's urgent. When the king hears about this, he won't be happy that you tried to delay me. I can guarantee you that."

"Oh?" inquired the limping rat with mock curiosity. "And what might it be that's so important?"

I hesitated slightly before I broke the taboo that had been so deeply ingrained in me by my father, before I spoke the three words that would define the next chapter of my life.

"I'm a rager."