🗝️The Rats Of Pryor

A Flash Fiction

Dedicated to those who are looking for courage to do the right thing.

Graves within the city of Rim were bereft of bones, but her pocket was not.

Natty traced the edges of a wishbone, her breath catching at the view. From the rooftops, Rim was a smudge of smog, lazy flickering gas lamps, and stray carriages.

The night’s heat was stifling. A dark chapel spire jutted below. For a moment she imagined falling. Her broken body disposed of; cleansed with fire. It had been a hundred years since the plague, Morte Contorta, struck. Still the practice of harvesting ashes of the dead carried on. For within ash—there was magic.

Natty slipped down awry bricks inch by inch. If the vials in her belt held magic, they wouldn’t save her tonight. Many Couriers ended up abandoned with a shiv in their ribs; their cargo stripped from them.

A child’s scream pierced the dark. Her heart jolted. She dropped a few feet to the ground; her own shiv poised to attack. Through the haze, two men circled two boys like starving wolves. She recognized one as Margot, the omega of Melly’s pack. A coiled viper of ink climbed his wrist.

The other man was unknown to her: a metallic green frog tattooed on his brow.

She shrank back. Natty recalled Margot’s brutality from a few weeks ago. Tomas, one of her crew, was jumped for getting caught on Melly’s turf. As punishment, Margot forced him to reveal the location of The Courier’s largest vial cache. Pryor saved the boy's life, but it cost him a broken arm. If they discovered her, she could face the same fate.

Margot knocked the older boy to the ground. It wasn’t her fight, but she felt the child’s fear. She wasn’t Pryor, there would be no negotiation.

She stepped from the shadows.

Natty struck. A clean jab to the arm. Margot recoiled and whipped his head toward her. Her blood ran cold. His eyes were black from corner to corner. She recognized the signature as a spice from the South—Cherry Glaze.

His enhanced strength would be difficult to bring down. He tore after her with a dagger of his own. She twisted away, dodging his advances. A pain lanced in her thigh. She was so focused on the viper that she had forgotten the frog. He smiled at her with chipped teeth, his knife bloody.

In retaliation, the elder boys fist cracked against the frog’s bony face. Margot retreated, snatched up the child, and pricked his side with a large dagger.

“Now children play nicely," Margot said.

He spotted Natty’s leather belt. He whistled.

"Look, Daws, we have ourselves a treat here: an Ash Rat.”

“Give us the belt or I will break him.” He yanked on the child’s arms. Natty glanced at the boy beside her. He was worse off than she was. He sported a broken nose and a split lip. Trapped like rats. Running was off the table; she tapped her pocket.

Daws sneered, “Come on, darling, get on with it.”

"I have a better offer," she said, withdrawing the wishbone from her coat. Daw's jaw dropped. “Where did she get that?”

“It’s yours if you forget the ash and let the boys be.” Margot raised a brow. “It’s a trick; it must be," Daws spat on the ground. “There is no way a rat owns a piece of bone," he whined. “She would have sold it already.”

“Do you want it or not?”

“Melly will want to know about this.”

“With a score like this, we won’t need Melly.” Daws flicked his tongue over his top lip.

”Fine, the ash and the bone. For the street rats," he removed the point of the dagger from the child’s side. And kicked the boy toward his brother.

Natty unbuckled her belt and slammed it into the dust. While six vials contained ash, the seventh did not. A potent mixture of sulfuric acid and potassium chlorate spilled over the ground. Natty dropped her lucky charm. The wishbone was a Firebird’s. Together the combination of science and magic lethal.

”Better run!” The three had time to wind their way around the corner, diving under a parked carriage. Rubble rained down. The small blast rang in their ears.

When the blast cleared, they rushed to the scene before the Night Vigil arrived. The smell of char and smoke was thick. The blast was small but had taken out the side of an abandoned shop. The single bone shone in the moonlight; untouched, Natty slipped it back in her pocket. The boys turned away.

"Is that it?” she said. They glanced back.

She shrugged. “I expected a bit of gratitude.”

The older boy smirked. “We have found, miss, that people who do kind things always expect more. It’s best to not owe anyone.”

Natty swayed on her feet. The initial shock of the wound had worn off. The younger boy pointed to her leg. "Morgan—“ Alarm bells rang through the street. She tilted her head. “The way I see it, the patrol has heard the blast and is on its way now.” She grimaced. “You boys can pay me back, by getting a hot meal into your bellies.”

Morgan considered her. “Fair enough.”

Natty led the boys through fog-laden streets in the twilight. She hoped that the rest of the crew had settled in for the night and weren’t as foolish as she. The shops around the corner were all locked save for one: The Ebony & Alabaster.

The silver bell chimed upon their entry. Bron sat at the front desk, scratching an old tabby under her chin, a book in the other hand.

“You are late.”

“Tell Pryor I have found some new Ash Rats.”

The above story was created for the Foxglove Fantasy Fiction Competition. Each contestant had to submit a 1,000 word story using a three word prompt. The words given to me were A Wishbone, A Frog, A Fire.

I am quite attached to Natty and the Creed boys and DO have plans to continue this world.

Be sure to subscribe to Foxglove Fantasy Fiction to read the other entries.

I hope you enjoyed!