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.