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Ma would used to tell me: Don't be special. It was ok to be creative or unique, but not special. You know the kind right? The sort that makes you stick out like an apple among oranges, ya? I mean, I'm pretty normal for a squirrel alright. Got a healthy appetite for nuts. A pair of big brown eyes. Red fur from the tips of my fluffy ears to the end of my tail. Yadda yadda.

Well actually... about that. I lied. I don't really have a tail. Not a squirrel tail anyways. It just sorta isn't. Other squirrels sort of have this big fluffy thing tacked onto their behinds, but mines sort of like a brush; coarse, short, and generally not fluffy. When everybeast sees a squirrel, it begins sort of like "Ooo ooo~! Can I touch your tail?!". Then they proceed to start stroking, hugging, and spirits forbid, outright drooling all over it. Me? Not so much. So I guess I'm pretty bad at being not special. But what do I care. Ma's dead. D.E.A.D. Like a stump, so there. Ha.

Anyhow, I guess its sort of important where I am, right? I'm on a train. Yeah. Never been on one before. Loud noisy things, nay, practically beasts of steel they are. Always seen them from afar. They'd always make a racket when they'd rumble past by my drey with those big boxes and tanks hurrying off to wherever trains go these days. But I'm on a passenger train. Its a sleek metal tube, with all these stuffy seats that sort of make my fur itch. Bit rainy outside, hard to see much really what with all the bars on the windows. Its all a big blur of green and wet stuff.

How did I get here? Well it all started when I was walking at graduation and this fella Edbert that used to like to mess with me decided to stick his tail out. Big rat he was, with one of those skinny pink tails that whip around when they put their mind to it. Unhealthy appetite for misery that one. Figure he wanted to get his one last chance to make my life miserable before moving on to whatever he had in mind afterwards. Or maybe he was just hot. I mean, not in that kind of way. Heat does strange things to a beast's mind. Here we were, both wearing these big robey red things they made us put on for this whole shindig, being baked alive on the bouncy rubbery fake grass in the stadium. Everyones waiting for their turn to be called down to get our diplomas, shake a bunch of hands, and all that jazz. We were all bored and hot. I mean who gets all starry eyed about getting a piece of paper? Not like I can pay rent with it.

So this rat decides hes gotta make a scene with his boyz. I've got no problem with being enthusiastic. I mean, it started with a whoop or so when one of their buds are walking the green. But then they took it too far. Making gestures with not one but both paws. Stroking pretty tails that pass by. Nuts for brains, ya know? Then of course my scruffy tail passes by on the green and I guess the judges didn't approve. Here I am just trying to stay cool and get the business done with and I feel this thick fleshy thing whip around my footpaw and wham! Down I go. Ten ten, face plant for the gold. By the fur, if I wasn't red before, I musta been red then. Everything after that was sort of hazy. See, there was a bit of what they call an altercation, ya?

Mind, I don't get into fights too often. Sure I punched somebeast in the face way back when I was a nary but a pup, but hey, who hasn't? Who hasn't!? Ma always told me: _Fighting isn't the right way to do things._Wanted me to grow up to be a lady, find myself some hunk of fur with a law degree and fancy shoes, but Edbert might need him more than me. When I woke up at Mercy there were a bunch of suits around me, not lawyer types, the kind that mean you're up to your eyeballs in trouble. They told me Edbert was down the hall with his face punched inside out.

I shrugged, he had it coming.

He was also happened to be in the burn ward with third degree burn injuries across most of his body and so were another twelve or so people. Woah. Ok, ok, so I beat up Edbert and the surgeons were practicing macrame with his face. Fine, sue me. But burns? Turns out the whole school decided to snitch on me; something about catching fire, nearly killing everyone, burning a crater in the stadium, and generally ruining everything. Oops. The suits told me that if I didn't play nice with them and get on a train to some place called PURGE, I was probably facing more counts of attempted murder than I had hairs on my tail. I'd also have to pay for the crater and all the melted fake grass. Least of all, they'd probably kill me. Yeah, hard choice there.

"You didn't kill your mother did you?"

"By the fur, of course I didn't kill my ma, she died some stupid death overseas..." Wait a second. Theres a otter in the seat next to me. No not in the seat. Hes practically looming all over me.

"Oh, sorry. I was down a few rows back. No one else is here though, so I thought it'd be nice to talk with someone."

"No, no, no. Stop. How do you know my ma is dead?" The otter's got this sort of embarrassed grin plastered across his face like a pup caught pawing through his pa's magazines. Total creeper.

"I uhh, sort of heard everything. Sorry"

"Heard? No beast was talking. Well, not until now at least. Explain yourself." I give him the best icy glare imitation that my Ma used to use on suspicious types. Especially salesmen. This is starting to get all sorts of weird.

"Yeah, I guess I am sort of weird, but I'm not a salesman."

Oh good, better cross that off the list of weird things about this situation.

"Get that alot where I came from. I'm a telepath see? I just hear people think. Your thoughts are pretty loud though, woke me up." The otter sort of tacks on the last part as if it's my fault hes violating my metaphysical personal space let alone my physical personal space. "Names is Ethan. Ethan Brooks." He sticks out one of his big otter paws.

"Telepath, ay? You can't make me shake it can you?"

"Ha, ha. Naw, I can't quite do the whole mind control thing like the movies, but it would be polite." He does have a point, I suppose, and I do aim to please. So I deposit both my paws and the stupidly large shackles covering them into his paw. His eye brows practically take flight.

"Ya, Miss I-Burned-Up-Everything isn't too popular with the suits right now. Tamara Lorin by the way, but you can call me Tam. For short."

"Well, Tam, its nice to meet you." He shakes my box paws anyways. "Must be awful uncomfortable. Frederic and the others seemed nice enough when they brought me in back home in Arbordale. Got me lunch and everything."

"Ha, ha, yeah... I'm sure they are." Only thing they offered me was a dose of permanent enlightenment between the eyes, figures.

"B-But I've still got half a sub left if you want it. Its Italian."

Ya know? I'm starting to like this Ethan. He scoots around pretty fast for a beast so big, you'd think that big thick rudder tail of his would be heavy. Turns out he's seated way back near the exit door where his tail is sort of flapping around in the aisle while the rest of him digs under the seat. Fredric and the suits musta told him to, just in case the car burst into flame or whatever. Theres some serious rummaging going on back there, then suddenly there's a sharp crack. Oh spirits, hes got a can of soda. He reappears with a sandwich wrapped up in wax paper and a can of cola in his paws. Ethan plops himself back down in the seat next to me, putting the lot on that small folding table before giving me that big grin of his again. It takes him a moment to realize my paws are pretty much only good for bludgeoning and just maybe holding open doors.

"We might be having some technical problems here." I'd show him the shackles again, but I think hes got the point. Plus they're pretty heavy.

"Oh, well ummm..." I don't need telepathy to see the cogs turning inside his head. "I could feed it to you. You know, with my paws."

Ok. So. Nice otter on a train. Perfectly normal. Nice otter who's willing to share his lunch with you. Meh. Telepathic otter dork who's willing to hand feed you the food he's sharing with you on a train headed to spirits know where...?

"Whats the catch?"

"Nothing really. My mum was a nurse, so I'd help around sometimes. Feed patients and what not. If you can't do something, and I can, why shouldn't I help?" He waves the whole question off nonchalantly. As is, it was probably the only way I was reasonably going to get anything into my mouth, so I take a bite of the sub hes holding in front of my muzzle.

Its nice. A bit soggy to be sure, but the meat, and cheese, and meat is all there. It's not a peanut butter sandwich, but when a beast hasn't eaten in a day or so, she can't be too picky. The otter is thinking something again. I can tell. He stopped feeding me.

"So, you wouldn't happen to know anything about this place called PURGE right?"

"PURGE? Naw, but if they're sending you there, I'm crossing out torture chamber and pit where they throw our dead bodies. No sense in feeding you and then putting a bullet between your ears, right?" For a telepath, hes pretty obvious with his thoughts, guess I wasn't so reassuring huh?

"Its just so strange. My parents wouldn't tell me anything, just told me I needed to talk with Frederic and his people to work something out."

"Well you're the telepath here."

"I know. But I got nothing." He shrugs. The thought only manages to slightly dampen the grin on his face. "Its like he only thinks about what he says and nothing else. I've never met anyone with such empty thoughts, its almost like hes hiding them from me. Do you think thats possible?"

"All things considered, I don't see why not."

The rest of the sandwich goes down pretty easy, there's nothing quite like forty grams of sugary water to wash down a meal with, ya? We talk a bit more about stuff, but things eventually roll to a stop. It's really peaceful. Just sort of sitting there. Ethan's gone all quiet. Its just the drumming of rain and the rumbling of the train car, a soft but steady din. It just makes me think. Maybe its that thinking. Maybe its the sugar. I hate when I crash. But suddenly I just have to know.

"Hey Ethan?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I a bad person?" I don't know why I asked him that. It sounds stupid even in my head. I don't know why I even care. I don't know if he even cares. I just met him. Hes just somebeast. Somebeast else. But he knows. I want him to say that I'm really a good person. That everything I did was just an accident. That I couldn't stop myself. That it wasn't my fault.

Its ok Tam, you're a good girl. Edbert was a jerk face and you couldn't know that you'd burst into flame right then and hurt all those people. Your ma would be proud of you for beating his face and bringing him to justice. Of course he doesn't say that. He just sits there, staring for all the world at the empty can of soda cradled in his paws, as if the answer were written in the label.

No Tam. There is no forgiveness. You're terrible. You hurt all those people and ruined their lives, even Edbert. I don't even want to know you. You're a monster. He doesn't say that either. He just stares at that stupid can. He won't even look at me. Was he even listening?

"I don't know." He's whispering. I can barely hear him. When he turns to face me, hes got this look on his face like seasons have passed him by, tired and worn. "But I do know that if I want to find out, I'll just have to stick around with you a bit longer don't you think?"

His answer sort of falls short of expectation, like that feeling when you make a throw just short of the basket. Two nuts short of a bushel, ya? Its not I can blame him. What would I say if some scumbag on the train started pouring out her life story to me? I'm probably more of a weirdo now, _special_even, than I was before any of these shenanigans happened. But it's something to go on. Maybe if they throw us in a ring of fire to fight to the death, we just might have second thoughts about perforating each other. I feel tired now. Its been a long day. Everything sort of get heavier in the rain you know? I can feel it on my eyes, my arms, my bones. Everything just wants to sleep.