The Boy Called Zenoc

~Cri~ Cri~ Cri~

The sharp bellow of the many fat rats squirmed out. 

'Attack. Attack!'

It was almost as though they were saying their battle cries while plunging forward with dirty, sharp claws and teeth, ready to sink into the human's open wounds.

Through ordinary and not Sky rats, the pack looked fierce and menacing with red eyes that glowed dangerously in the dark. 

They were ugly, dirty, and crooked, with each one looking as fat as the nest. 

Food... Food... Food... 

The rockets here were intentionally thrown into this dungeon and starved.

They started for a way out but found no way out except for the small barred opening far above.

So how do they leave? How do they get out? 

They struggled day by day till insanity, fighting amongst themselves. 

Yes. 

They held their own gladiator events, killing a bunch of themselves time and time again.