A/N: Another drabble to share, this one definitely not as gruesome as the last one lol. Enjoy!
Paying close attention to rhythm of splashing feet against the damp sewer floor, I continue our trek toward the closest sewer drain. Algae is plentiful there and with four young mouths to feed I am having to take this trip more often as the boys grow. A falter in the footsteps behind me, pulls my attention over my shoulder to see Donatello stumble slightly as the grates above him make him less observant of the jagged floor before him.
"Donatello, watch your steps." Fingers tucked into his mouth, he acknowledges my words with thoughtful stare before watching his feet more carefully.
It has been three years since I saved the four turtles from abandonment in the green ooze, since I have grown to call them my sons. I can no longer leave them in cardboard boxes as I scavenge for food. They have grown too big, too curious for such containments and cannot be left alone. They are old enough to obey me in my presence, but not when they are alone, so they travel with me.
"We there, papa?" an energetic squeak bounces beside me.
"Not yet, Michelangelo. Do you remember what I said about holding your brother's hand?" I remind him with an expectant look. His eyes widen with exaggerated remembrance as he gasps and falls in line between Leonardo and Donatello. Raphael takes the rear as my special protector. I had to tell him Leo and he were the protectors of their younger brothers between them for Raphael to stop pouting about being last.
When we reach the sewer drain, I turn to the boys and their childish gibberish immediately stops. The look I give them holds no nonsense.
"I am going to get food," I speak sternly as I point to the drainage behind me. "You must stay here. Do not move from this place. Do you understand?"
"Hai, papa," they answer in unison, all except Donatello who nods repetitively to show his comprehension. The young turtle has yet to speak; I fear he may be mute.
With a final meaningful stare, I scale down the lower ladder, scraping the algae from the walls, placing each handful into a large jar I carried with me in a sling sack. The boys will need protein to grow healthy and strong. Extra worms will help. The near full jar nearly slips from my grasp as cries and screams echo through the tunnels. My heart drums against my chest as I drop the jar into my sack and leap over several steps until I am on the upper level once again.
"Boys!" My voice deepens with fear. They are not where I told them to stay. My ears perk at pitiful whimpers in the shadows. "My sons, are you hurt? I am right here. Come out." Their whimpering and whines of fear only increase as I try to coax them from their hiding.
"Papa, there!" A small green finger emerges from the shadows, pointing to the grate above us. Daylight shines down on us as well as the sounds of the city as traffic and human sounds penetrate the small world of my frightened sons.
"Monsters, papa!" Their little voices chirp with fear of the unknown. This is their first time coming with me into the tunnels and being old enough to understand their surroundings. The sewers, these tunnels, this is their home. They know not of the human world above us. I am tempted to keep them in fear and ignorance, let them believe there are monsters in the sky; it will keep their curiosity at bay, it will keep them safe... but for how long?
No, wisdom and understanding will be best suited here.
"Come here, little ones. You are safe, come to me." Kneeling, I beckon them with open arms and am instantly bombarded with little turtle shells. "Hush now, there are no monsters."
"Up there, monsters." Raphael is unconvinced of my declaration as he shakes his head against my chest. They quiver against me as shadows of moving vehicles glide over our bodies like the claws of a evil creature and horns blast like the hungry roar of a beast.
"Listen to me, not the sounds you hear; look at me, not the things you think you see." Holding them close, I give them a small bounce to gain their attention. As tear-stained eyes finally look at me, I smile warmly. "The moving shadows above us are not monsters, they are cars, and the sounds you hear are from the city. Above us is the world of humans."
"Like bedtime stories?" Leonardo asks, trying to make sense of this new information.
"Three piggies!" Michelangelo's fear is quickly forgotten at the mention of stories as he blurts out his favorite fairy tale.
"Not quite like the three little pigs, Michelangelo. Those are pretend stories. The human world above is very real."
"Like Jack and Jill?" Leonardo tries again.
"Close, my son. Jack and Jill are also pretend, but real humans look very much like Jack and Jill. Humans come in many sizes and different colors. Some are small like you and others are big like me. They make a lot of noises, especially in their cars."
"Too noisy." Raphael covers his ear slits as a large truck honks its horn. As it passes by, it vibrates the floor of the tunnel.
"Can we see humans, Papa?"
"No, Michelangelo. The world of humans is dangerous. You must never be seen by humans."
"Why?" It is Leonardo who chimes in next, his serious eyes seeking mine for guidance.
"Because humans will hurt you and take you away from me."
"No! Never take from you, Papa." An emerald flame burns brightly in Raphael's defiant eyes. Eyes I would no doubt believe were they not attached to such an infantile face. Donatello seems uninterested in our discussion, his eyes trained on the movement from the grate above us. I gently pull his fingers from him mouth.
"Humans bad?" The disappointment in Michelangelo's voice is heartbreaking.
"No. All humans are not bad, but they do not understand us."
"Like Don-Don?" Raphael asks bluntly poking Donatello for emphasis. Donatello shrinks away from his brother's touch as he sucks fervently on his fingers again. Stroking his olive green scalp, I tug his fingers from his mouth again. He smiles at me and points at the grate, brown eyes twinkling with a form of comprehension only known in his own mind.
"Raphael, we have talked about this. Donatello understands; it is just in a different way than you and I. It is why he does not speak." He eyes his younger brother questioningly as he often does, but says nothing more.
"Humans understand dif'rent?" Michelangelo is my friendliest child. He befriends every small rodent and insect that scurries into our home. He is hopeful of meeting humans, befriending them as well. If only it were that simple.
"Yes, they understand differently. Sometimes humans hurt others because they understand differently."
"Humans hurt us 'cause they different?" Leonardo's young mind is fast at work, trying to piece together the truth I am not ready for them know.
"Humans will hurt us because we are different," I correct him as I pull Donatello away from a ladder that leads up to a manhole. I settle him beside Michelangelo and pull his fingers from his mouth. "We do not look like the humans in the storybooks. This makes them afraid and want to hurt us. They do not understand us."
I watch the various expressions play across the faces of my young sons. There is a sudden seriousness that paints Leonardo's brow as he huddles closer to his brothers. Raphael looks up at the noisy sounds and shifting shadows above with a scowl so fierce, I fear I have unintentionally ingrained a seed of abhorrence toward humans within his young mind. Donatello sucks happily on his fingers and I am unsure how much he truly understands as he stares curiously at the grate and the ladder leading to the city streets. Michelangelo is the hardest to look at. I watch as his wishful blue eyes war between my words and his desire to love the world around him.
They are young boys that should be growing, playing, learning about the beauties of this world, yet they stand here before me confused by the fear and prejudices of the humans above. I fear this is the beginning of many hard realizations my children must face.
"Come. It is time to go home." It tugs my heart to see Donatello point to the manhole. I do not know if his gesture is out of curiosity or true understanding that we do not belong down here. As they line up holding one another's hands, I know more questions will undoubtedly come and I must be prepared for them. I blink away the moisture gathering at the corners of my eyes as I see a sliver of innocence slip from my children today.
Fin.
A/N: Thanks for reading!