Glenwallow

**Glenwallow****glen** */ɡlen/* n. a narrow valley.
**wallow** */ˈwälō/* v. (of a person) indulge in an unrestrained way in (something that creates a pleasurable sensation).

A short story by Ginger.
~~

When Lieutenant Finch first saw the glen, he broke down and sobbed.

When he stood up and saw it for a second time, he almost collapsed again. But he forced himself to stand and take in the entirety of the crevice, before whispering to himself,

“Am I here?”

His heart lurched at just the words, at the thought of the whisper echo wing through the caverns, revealing himself to the world. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He *was* here, and not *there*. He was safe.

He was no longer with *them*. He was no longer a *Leiutenant*.

He was just… Finch.

…

Finch began by walking through the crevice.

It appeared perfect- it was hidden away in the farthest reaches of *here*, small enough that anyone passing by would view it as an alternative path and nothing more. There was protection from attacks above and safe areas to settle out of the grasps of below. Rabbits, mice, a nice stream to the left, some herbs up ahead, everything was there.

It seemed alright.

Great, actually.

That was what bugged him.

It could be a trap, the parasite in his mind told him. *They* could have set it up. Drawn him here.

*But that’s highly unreasonable, isn’t it? It’s just a rock formation.*

Are you sure-

Finch screeched and the parasite fled to the back of his mind. He sighed. No, he was fine. He just had to get used to it, was all. He had to relax and remember that he was far from *there*.

Finch gazed up at the glen and took a deep breath. And, as he took a step into the miniature valley and knew that his future began here, he allowed himself to smile.

And it felt nice, after so long.

…

The fawn cat named Finch made a small home for himself in the rock.

He originally tried to carve an entire den out, but it quickly became clear that that wouldn’t work, due to many torn claws an a few wounds across his paws. So, he eventually just built a small den out of dried gorse and woven grass, making shelves out of jutting rocks and a nest out of dried mud and moss.

It was a nice, peaceful home, sitting in a glen, just for Finch. And he enjoyed the peace and quiet, away from all the noisy *they* and the sickly hopeless *her*. Peace had always been his main goal in life- a difficult one to achieve, to be honest, but somehow, he had made it here all the same.

And it was everything he had dreamed of.

…

The scarred aged cat with the starry blue eyes named Finch awoke from his den to hear shouting.

The terror he felt was indescribable. It as if, after more than five years of hiding away from the world, it instead found *you,* and shook you awake, ready to drag you back into reality again.

No, that was exactly what it was.

Finch dare not peer outside. He didn’t move. He felt like covering his eyes. Closing his ears. Tuck his tail beneath his legs and pray nothing happened. But it doesn’t work like that, does it?

Finch told the parasite to shut up and stood.

The muffled voices were too hard to hear through the walls, but Finch knew they were talking about someone. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who. He’d sought this place out to be alone.

Oh, how long that had lasted.

…

Finch couldn’t hide.

That wasn’t a choice anymore.

He just had to step out.

They wouldn’t kill him.

He just had to step out.

…

…

…

“Lieutenant.”

Finch froze at the word. His breathing shallowed. His eyes darted around at the squad as the words in his mouth fizzled and died.

Four cats. They sent four cats. Not only four cats- they sent *her.* They sent *him*. They- they sent them. They sent *them*.

They knew what they were doing.

Finch flattened his ears as his tongue wrapped itself in knots as it searched for the graves of the words that had perished there.

“C-Captain.”

*She* smiled, her thin mouth carving a cold, humorless etching into her dark face that glimmered with power that faded as quickly. She waved her tail back and forth and back and forth as she was silent, watching Finch with those cold eyes that had replaced the ones he’d known for so long.

And *he* just sat there with the other two, watching coldly. He, the first who Finch had known yet not really known because here he was, sentencing his own to death. His firey pelt was sickly and tainted, the sun revealing all its flaws which Finch had not the courage to sneer at.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you again, Finchflame. We’ve missed you all these years, lieutenant. Have you been here all this time?”

Finch recoiled visibly at the words that dripped with honey and poison so thickly mixed he could not taste which was which. He said nothing, the syrup trapping where he stood, staring at the two as she continued.

“It took a while, but we were fortunate enough to finally find you. And now you can come back with us! Isn’t that great?” She grinned, her yellow teeth flashing, almost as a warning. *You are in trouble now.*

The words jolted Finch out of his frozen state. Taking a shaky breath, he narrowed his eye and took a step back. “You’re here to kill me.”

She frowned, twitching her tail rapidly in a pattern that Finch had forgotten over the years, which scared him. She gazed at him with her cold, yellow eyes, before saying simply, “Well, yes. You must face reparations for your desertion. It is only just.”

“Just?” Fire suddenly enveloped Finch’s eyes, for the first time in eternity. He spat, “Since when have you all ever operated on *justice*? You snake. You had better leave now, or there will be consequences.”

“Consequences?” The note of amusement jabbed at Finch’s confidence, sinking his shoulders a tiny bit lower. “Finchflame, I have brought three of my best soldiers to come retrieve you. There will only be consequences if you don’t come with us.”Finch watched as she nodded at the red, sickly mouse, who advanced on Finch, claws unsheathed. Finch in turn took a step back, gazing on this rodent who he had once loved and hissed.

“Don’t come closer.”

*She* unsheathed her claws suddenly as well, taking a step forward as well. “Look, Finchflame, you have given me no choice. You must decide. Will you return with us peacefully?” Her voice was edged in a threat as her yellow slits for eyes narrowed.

Finch gazed into them, and then jerked his head back at the glen.

The glen. His home. His *true* home. He couldn’t abandon it, could he?

But… oh, this was too difficult. He should just go with them and maybe they’d be nice enough to kill him.

Finch shoved the parasite away once more, perhaps for the final time as he faced *her* and *him* and *them* and spoke a soft, singular word.