Rubbish

As he slipped through the holly bushes surrounding the shed he could smell food. He shivered in the cold and paused for a moment, whiskers twitching, before squeezing himself under the shed door.

Inside it was marginally warmer and the dust lay thick on the garden implements. Some slim light penetrated the walls where the wooden slats didn't quite meet.

Cautiously Peter moved forward urinating as he went. He must mark this spot if he wanted to have any chance at keeping the others away.

He scurried behind a work bench and, while his sight was blurry, his sensitive sense of smell drew him unerringly on. Only a faint scratching sound marked his progress.

'Ah there,' he thought. Long forgotten, parts of a sandwich had fallen behind the bench luring him forward. And miracle of miracles as his nose twitched again he pulled in the scent of....cheese.

His prize was just a few feet away when he heard a scratching sound coming closer and he froze.

Another male rat appeared from under the opposite side of the bench and it was twice his size. Peter's heart started to skip double time. He was thin and underfed and in no shape to take on the larger rat but he was desperately hungry.

The resident black rat opened his mouth in a threat display, moving forward in an effort to make Peter turn tail and run, giving him one last chance to opt out of the fight.

Throwing caution to the wind, Peter dashed forward trying to steal a piece of the moldy bread before beating a hasty retreat. Using his incisors he pulled at the cold-hardened break trying to tear off a piece.

In a heartbeat the other rat was upon him enraged by the audacity of Peter moving into his territory.

Dust flew and high pitched shrieks came out of the two rats as they wrestled on the hard dirt floor. Fur flew as they jumped up to box each other using their front paws.

So immersed in their battle were they that each failed to notice the sound of creaky shed door opening.

Belatedly, Peter felt the vibrations of a human foot and that brief moment of distraction cost him dearly. The larger rat bit him deeply on his rump.

Peter squealed and attempted to run. He scurried along the side of the shed, limping as he went, to a spot behind some shovels fervently hoping the human hadn't seen him.

Even with his human mind intact, his natural rat instincts directing him to run and hide were almost overpowering.

"What's this then?" he heard a childish voice say.

The shovel lifted away, revealing his hiding place and Peter froze in fear.

A child of about ten with a shock of red hair and freckles stood looking down at him.

"Well you're a sorry looking excuse for a rat," the boy murmured.

Peter tried to calculate his chances of nipping away before the boy swung a shovel at him but glumly decided the last of his luck was up.

"You look like you've had a bit of hard time. That's a nasty bite on your behind," the boy said contemplatively.

The boy crouched down and Peter shrank even further against the wall.

"You're awful thin as well," the redhead said thoughtfully.

The boy looked at him for a few more moments as if struggling to make a decision.

"Well, Mum says it's the season of giving," he said, nodding his head and started to take off his cloak.

Peter's entire back end was now throbbing painfully. Chills ran up and down his body as he watched miserably, too tired to even work up a panic.

"Now don't you bite me? I'm trying to help," the boy said sharply.

Peter was suddenly blinded as the cloak fell down on him. He let out a squeak of panic but didn't try to bite through the cloth.

He could hear the vibrations as the boy continued to speak but couldn't make out the words.

Peter heard some scraping and the sound of some metal instruments being moved around but had no idea what the boy was doing.

He wondered if he should try to escape now while the boy was otherwise engaged, but almost as if the boy had read his thoughts, he felt himself being picked up before he could carry out his attempt.

Peter heard the rumbling voice say something again and the cloak was removed from his head so he could see again.

He was moved once again and the world drunkenly swam around him for a moment.

"Here you go. A nice big box with some clean rags to keep you warm," the boy said as he gently placed the rat into a large hat box.

Peter shook himself his fur bristling as he looked around.

"I've put you on top of the bench towards the very back so, hopefully, that'll keep you safe," he said. "Well as long as the twins don't find you," he said darkly.

Peter investigated his temporary home happily digging around in the rags trying to construct a nest for warmth. The chill winds outside wouldn't be able blow directly on him and he'd be able to find some measure of comfort in the safety of the box.

For the first time Peter looked up at the boy unafraid.

"Oh wait," the boy said.

Peter stood up on his hind legs cautiously peering over the side of the box. The redhead was rooting around in his cloak pocket.

"Here," the boy said triumphantly withdrawing his hand.

Peter's eyes went large and round. His nose twitched.

"It's one of my mum's Christmas cookies. They're really good," he said, and gently placed the large sugar cookie into the box.

Peter's hunger flared and he immediately began nibbling on the cookie.

The boy chuckled.

"Don't make yourself sick now," he said, as he watched the rat devour his offering.

The boy shivered and began to pull his cloak back on again.

"I'd better bring dad in the tool he wants," the child said.

Peter jumped when he heard another louder voice from outside the shed.

Percy! Where are you boy? I need that tool."

Percy turned towards the door.

"Coming Dad!" he said, scrambling to find the muggle implement his Dad was looking for.

He found the odd looking tool that muggles called a wrench and put it into his robe pocket.

Relaxing when he realized no one else would be coming into the shed, he went back to eating his cookie. It was sweet and delicious and Peter felt happier than he had in months.

"Don't worry; I'll bring you some more tomorrow. That's if you hang around," the child said, sniffling in the cold and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Peter looked up briefly from his meal and emitted a sound.

The boy chuckled.

"Why, you're really a friendly sort aren't you?" he said, with a smile leaning over the box.

The boy turned away and Peter lost sight of him altogether.

His sensitive rat ears could hear the vibrations of the boy's footsteps as he started to leave the shed.

"Happy Christmas," Peter heard called out softly.

End