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Ketal’s blow landed full upon the Ugly Rat. It was a stroke that carved the world, a cut that left a scar nature itself could not mend. The creature struck the wall so hard that the glassy surface crazed, then began to fail in uneven sheets. The rat crumpled with a hoarse groan.
It tried to rise and could not. It managed to turn its head, bared its teeth in a sound like laughter, and looked down at its own shoulder. Its right foreleg was gone from the socket.
If the rat had still possessed the recovery it wielded in its prime, the loss would not have mattered; even a severed limb would have grown back within a few hours. That was how it had always been since the age when it first learned what it meant to be alive. However, now, that was not the case.
The stump did not bud and did not knit. No energy gathered in the torn bones. For the first time since its birth, the rat wore a wound that would not heal. A hand clamped over its skull and slammed it back into the wall. The already fractured surface yielded with a brittle groan and collapsed into shards and dust.
“Kaaaakh!” the rat shouted.
Ketal kept the creature pinned and clicked his tongue. “You really are a rat. Strong,...
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