"...I gave Annan the Rat Ears to play with, and he smuggled you out."
Jerry lowered his head, hiding every trace of emotion.
Class was ingrained in the Clan's bones. Even the most despicable, greedy Slave Rat would do everything it could to save a badly wounded Champion Rat, even at the cost of its own life... The instinct was etched into their blood.
If the Grayfur Rat Priest said she was hungry, he would carve flesh from his own body without hesitation.
"My name is Philos."
Jerry looked up in surprise.
Names were part of that hierarchy, too.
Just as no Slave Rat knew Jerry was called Jerry, no Champion Rat knew the Greyfur Rat's name.
Now Jerry knew the Grayfur Rat Priest's name.
The Grayfur Rat Priest moved her slender, fur-covered legs and gazed toward the silent Hive City in the distance.
"We'll go back and take the Rat Mother and the Artisan with us."
"But the human thing knows about the Hive City..."
Under the silver moon, the Grayfur Rat Priest made a rare exception and explained, "This is our chance to test Annan."
Jerry looked up, puzzled.
The Grayfur Rat Priest turned back. "If the humans come in, Annan sold you out. If they don't... the Clan has a chance to corrupt Annan."
"Corrupt the Annan thing..."
Annan returned to Headquarters and passed the Cavalry, who stood with their chests puffed out, then had a Centurion summon Femi.
The Soldiers hadn't stopped practicing the Breathing Method, even during the days of the Hunt.
Their bodies were growing stronger, but the rate at which they became Professionals had slowed. The Soldiers with the most potential had become Professionals over the first four months. Those left had no talent and could only try to change their fates