It always ended like this. Something hit the floor and crashed. Raised voices echoed through the thin wall. Tom held his ears down, trying to mute the sounds. He didn't even have the chance to tend to the cuts in his hand.

The moonlight shone through the window in the small room he called his bedroom. It was an attic, but he called it his bedroom to make himself feel more at home.

Home.

Ignoring the voices down below, he stood up and walked towards the closet with cheeks wet from tears. He didn't know how long he'd been crying. Opening the closet, he picked up the band-aid. He licked the cuts to clean them from blood and applied the band-aids, mindful of his fur. It wasn't much, he knew, but it always got him through.

He stared at the moon, wondering about the world beyond the window. What was it like? Did they eat the same stuff as he did?

He wondered if the world outside would treat him the way everyone did here.

“Tch, why are you still alive today?"

His stepfather said to him from the front room, a cigarette in his hand. Tom just took a glance at him but didn't answer. Answering would do no good.

He stepped down the stairs from the attic. The stairs themselves were rotting; he had to be careful or he could fall and stumble down. He quickly made his way to the kitchen, looking for anything he could eat. He couldn't eat last night. It had been raining heavily so he couldn't scavenge for anything to eat.

He passed by the door to his stepmother's room and heard some moans. He raised his brows, a bit confused. It was still morning; his stepmother shouldn't have any clients until evening.

There was nothing to be eaten in the kitchen. The utensils his parents used to eat were on the washtable, along with a cracked plate. Great, they lost one again today. He wanted to ask his stepfather where was breakfast but decided not to in fear of getting a punch.

The small wolf pushed the back door open. It made a creaking sound, so at least his stepfather would know that he left for the day.

The neighbourhood was packed at this time of day. He heard some babies crying, people screaming and moaning at the same time. The smell of rubbish and alcohol was in the air. Below him was a small stream of black water, its foul smell making him jump over it.

Rain was great, but what came after was not.

His stomach rumbled as he navigated through the maze of unpleasantness. There was nothing he could use to mask the voices and smells, so he had learnt to just ignore them. The way to the final rubbish place was not really that far, anyway. He didn't understand why people called it a landfill; it doesn't fill the land and FRP made much more sense for him. It was a place where rubbish was for the final time, simple as that.

He hoped he could find something he could eat for breakfast. Probably something more that he could use as entertainment.

“Hey, arsehole! Nice tail you got there!"

Turning around, he saw some kids playing around. They were of the relatively same age, but Tom disliked them. “Go away."

“Yeah, go away to mum like you fucking did yesterday." They laughed and threw him a rock.

Tom dodged the rock, not answering the words and kept walking. He had enough of them. His snout was still a bit sore from yesterday.  Besides, he was running home, not to his mum.

He finally reached the FRP. The gates were open like usual, and the workers there had already known him since he came here quite often. Sometimes he saw pity on their eyes, but most of the time there was indifference. The trucks should come later this afternoon carrying more rubbish. Who knew he could find something good for dinner.

His deep brown eyes scanned the piles of rubbish in front of him. He'd gotten used to the smell, so it wasn't much of a problem anymore. There should be some box or heaps of leftovers; people in the city tended to eat less than they had bought. Weird, he thought, didn't they spend money on the food? Didn't wasting food mean wasting money?

He dug a little bit to the pile and found an almost intact box of bento. Its content had sadly rotten, so he threw it away. Next to it was a plastic bag full of unfried rice crackers and a newspaper. He picked them both and put it where he could remember later.

Moving to another pile, he dug in and found a severed arm of an ox. His face scrunched in disgust and he threw it away, running towards a puddle of water to wash his hand before the blood could dry. It was a bother to wash dried blood.

He went back to the pile and found a box of doughnuts. The content was almost full, save for one that was bitten, and they were all fresh.

Nice.

He looked for a black plastic bag to put his stuff in, then went back home to eat his breakfast.

“Hey, kid, where d'ya think ya're going?"

He turned around when he felt a hand on his shoulder, his fur immediately bristling. There were several people, a horse, two dogs, and a lion, all older and bigger than him.

“What do you want?" he asked them.

The horse laughed. “Cocky, eh? Looks like your dad forgot to teach ya some manners. What're you, two?"

“I'm seven!"

“Ah, not important. This is our pile. One does not," the horse kicked him. “take from our pile!"

He stumbled backwards. “It's nobody's pile! There's nothing different about it than other piles."

He felt a hand punching his snout hard. He took several steps back, but the hand punched his gut again. “The fuck did you say?"

His plastic bag fell, its contents scattered on the dirt. He didn't care about that, though, as he looked up to the three people with a defiant look on his face.

That punch hurt a bit.

“I said, it's nobody's pile!"

Those words earned him another blow to the face and guts. His head hit a steel pipe, crushing it. He felt blood rushing down from his nose and suddenly he felt like throwing up.

There was blood on the ground where he threw up.

“That's what you get for stealing from our pile!"

Tom didn't answer. His snout felt numb and his insides twisted a bit. However, he stood back up and landed a punch on the horse's face. The dogs tried to stop him from dashing towards the horse, but he was faster. He dodged the dogs and landed a blow to their midsection.

One of the dogs groaned, and he kicked his face before his tail was tugged and more blows landed all over his body.

“Son of a bitch! Finish him!"

The wolf looked down to the ground smeared with blood from his mouth. When he felt another hand tugged his tail, he lashed out and punched them as hard as he could. He gasped for air, his tongue lolled out and licked the blood on his arms. The lion had sharp claws.

Tch, he hated cleaning up dried blood.

Before they could get up, he quickly collected his stuff. The doughnuts were dirty with sand, so he took the ones that weren't so dirty. As quickly as he came, he then left, running as fast as he could.

“Chase him!"

The wolf doubted they could follow him with their conditions, but he kept dashing towards the maze of houses until he was in one narrow passageway. He almost hit someone but dodged them before he hit them. When he felt the situation was clear, he allowed himself to breathe and wiped the blood from his nose.

Ugh, it was still morning and he already got bruises.

His stomach felt like it was missing, and when he walked out of the passageway, he realised he was limping a bit.

No matter, on to the breakfast.

He glanced at the sky. The clouds were up again. It would rain later, so he'd better go to his house as quickly as he could.

He caught sight of a cow throwing something to the street. It looked like a bundle of… something, but his nose picked up a good scent amongst countless other bad ones. He wanted to ask the cow what was it but he held back, anticipating the worst. He had enough bruises already; he didn't need more. He had better watch her first.

When the cow went back inside, he walked closer to the thing she threw and picked it up.

What was it? He'd never seen it before, but it smelled kind of good.

He put it inside his plastic bag and went towards his house.

“You!"

As he started, Tom turned around when he heard someone running towards him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! He then ran away as fast as he could. That lion found him! It must be his blood trail!

He took a sharp turn and continued running, trying to lick his wound from dripping blood. He took another sharp turn and ran through a small alleyway. When he finally saw his home, he ran even faster, ignoring the pain in his legs and the confused screams from several distances away.

He rushed through the back door, then leant against it as he caught his breath. He gasped for air heavily, his heart beating fast.

Just as when he was finally able to calm down, rain poured down.

No matter. He took some water to wash the blood away, then went upstairs before his stepfather found him coming home with bruises and punched him again. He didn't want that, but he couldn't avoid getting punched. Fuck those thugs.

In the safety of his room, he ate his breakfast. The doughnuts tasted nice after he washed them with water. Not bad; not as good as those which he found were almost intact, but still nice.

He then took that sweet-scented package thingy. There was something written on it, but he couldn't read. Whatever. He inspected it instead. It was… some kind of dried plant leaves? But it smelled good, so good. Could he eat it?

The wolf put some in his mouth and chewed, then immediately coughed and took it out. He drank some water to wash away the ugly taste. No, not to be eaten.

How did he eat it? Fried?

He looked at the packaging. Hmm, it showed a cup with steam. Hot water?

Well, it was worth a try.

He took a cup and filled it with hot water, then put some of the dried plants in it. He gave it a few stirs and immediately the scent intensified. It was a sharp contrast to anything he smelled before, so unique and different.

Taking a spoonful of the water—it turned green rather quickly—and trying not to take the leaves, he sipped it, and he was greeted with a very bittersweet taste. His face scrunched in disgust, but the aftertaste was… kind of good. Bitter, but sweet nonetheless. Definitely a lot better than that bottled-yellow-water thingy his stepfather bought sometimes. He put the spoon away and instead sipped it right from the cup, then let out a content sigh. It was a good kind of bitter.

The drink tasted nice. It calmed him a bit amidst the shouts below. It was bitter, but not bad at all. He looked out at the soft shower through the window, some leaves falling from the sky. Somehow the drink made him feel warm. He put his hand around it to get more of the warmth and took another sip, letting out a sigh.

This… was nice.