Officially chapter one, sorry it it's depressing, it will get happier :)

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Matti screamed, sending her voice rushing through the mines.

The ferret her pushed the branding stick cruelly into her fur, another holding her tightly by her arms. She wriggled desperately, trying to get away from the burning heat searing through her flesh. All around, ferrets laughed and pointed, and a young squirrel pushed its face into its mother's fur, hiding its eyes.

Finally the ferret dropped her, and she lay on the ground, panting as the pain rushed through her arm. The second ferret, the one with the branding stick, leant over. His breath smelt like old ransoms.

'Don't do it again,' he whispered. Then, with a kick in her direction, he was off, calling his friends and marching away down the narrow tunnel.

Matti sat up slowly, shaking with swallowed tears. The other slaves were staring at her, their eyes worried and fearful, as though she had something contagious. She looked down at her arm, at the single black flame tattooed upon her flesh, and shuddered. It was a caressing, curving shape, a single black light rolling into the shape of a fire burst. She stared up at the surrounding squirrels, a mute plea for help. They turned away. They were afraid. Well, she wasn't afraid.

She stood quickly – a little too quickly, her head spun and her ears buzzed. She staggered, and would have fallen had someone not grabbed at her arm, pulling her back into line. The slave master clipped cuffs around her outstretched paws, pinching the skin of her arms and stretching the brand on her upper arm. She winced, and the slave master grinned.

'Don't lash out,' said a quiet voice next to her. She turned and smiled at her brother, a thin, emaciated young squirrel. His eyes were begging her to stay calm.

'I couldn't hit a fly,' she whispered, with a comforting smile, and he relaxed. But his eyes were on her brand, and she knew he was wondering. She felt inside herself, looking for her normal mad temper. But it wasn't there. There was only a terrified, boneshaking fear in the pit of her stomach.

You coward, she thought with revulsion. They've tamed you at last.

She wasn't a large squirrel, but what she didn't have in size, she made up for in anger. Perri, her brother, said that she was temper from head to tail, and that it would get her into trouble someday. As if it hadn't already. Her fur's colour was indistinguishable beneath layers of dust and ash from the mining work, but her eyes were clear brown, filled with heart wrenching longing.

The stinging pain in her arm had faded to a dull, echoing throb, and she began to tune her work to the rhythm of the pain. Hit, turn, pull, hit, turn, pull. The soft rock came away easily, falling to the baskets below. It was a valuable building material and fuel – you could shape it into anything, if you had the skill. And it burned, like no other rock could. Ashenite, the guards called it. Black gold. But the slaves had another name for it. To them it was Farenkya, the old Loamhedge word for the stuff of life. Heart's blood.

Now, as they pounded unceasingly into the blackened walls, a tall ferret beat relentlessly on a small drum. The ringing impact of the wooden mallet he used echoed around their ears, and on each one Perri flinched slightly, his small tail twitching hesitantly with each dull thud. Between impacts Matti could hear Talan, the slavemaster, shouting at one of the slaves further up the line, a skinny mousemaid dressed in a shapeless smock, lashing around with his leather whip.

Finally, belatedly, Matti found the surge of anger in her heart. It buzzed insistently, like an angry hornet, and she shuddered, trying to suppress it. Peering over at her arm, she tried to find the brand, but it was hidden now by her own thick fur, covered in a thick layer of dust. With a deep, sad sigh, she drove her axe into the wall, sending a shower of rock onto the ground.

'We have to get out of here,' she murmured. The otter beside her laughed, his gaunt shoulders shaking fiercely.

'Get out, Matti?' he said, the full, glowing irony of her words gleaming in his voice. 'You've more chance of catching an eagle.' He plunged his axe into the stone, engrossed again in his work. Matti turned to Perri.

'Do you agree, Perri? Do I have more chance of catching an eagle?'

He shrugged, a bead of sweat on his forehead.

'I wouldn't know an eagle of it bit my brush off. All I know is, this is all I've ever known. If I got out, where would I go? What would I do? No, Matti, we're slaves. Let sleeping dogs lie – make the best of things.'

She tried to talk to him, but he turned away, keeping with the speed of the drummer. She could only watch, pityingly, wishing with all her soul that she could help him. But there was nothing. Only a sunburst of temper that forced itself into words.

'I won't die down here!' she whispered angrily. 'I'm going to get out of here, and you're going to come with me!'

She pulled her axe from the rock and hit with such force that a small avalanche cascaded down the stone face.

'I swear I'll see the sky before I die. Even if I die trying.'