Dot had dealt with rats before, but these rats were the sort that were very ugly and very large. In the right light, they might have been mistaken for very ugly, small dogs. Dot had always liked that story when the King read it from the scary children’s book. The children got the dog and the dog turned out to be a Mexican sewer rat.

These rats were that sort, apparently, and they smelled like Ratcatcher’s pocket had.

She drew her box-cutter, extending the blade, and sized up her opponents.

Three rats against her and her boxcutter.

It might have been an even fight, but she had her devotion to her king on her side.

She would rescue her king.

⊙

The building that held her king was fitting for the stories. The statue lacked color, but it had the right atmosphere. She was bleeding but she told herself that this was how things were in those stories. The heroine at the foot of the castle of the evil empire, the king in captivity. She hurt from the battles already fought and faced the greatest challenge yet.

Getting inside wasn’t hard, but getting up was. The vents were barred and had cameras, and people were already on guard when she arrived, keeping a close eye on those same vents.

She could only wait.

Patience was essential to a scout. The fact that every inch of her hurt from her fight with the sewer rats made the patience a little different. She had been hurt before, and she had been hurt in a way that made each breath an effort.

Breathe in, breathe out. If she did that once, she was one step closer to being better and being okay. She knew it was a long journey, but surviving was important.

Surviving was especially important now.

He was close.

She would free him, and he would usher in a new age of greatness for her and her people. She might even have a place at his side, where she could be close to him at all times.

She wasn’t even sure what that would be like. She had been ecstatic when she had seen mere glimpses of him, back in the old Kingdom.

Breathe in, hurt, breathe out, hurt again, feel the scratches and the bites when she shifted position. Breathe in, breathe out, double check she wasn’t anywhere she might be found.

She licked at her wounds, and she licked at the dust and grit, so her colors would be bolder. She licked her hands and ran wet hands over her hair, smoothing it.

She had arrived early in the morning, on the train, and now she waited until the sun was high in the sky. Each breath was a step closer to wellness and moving again.