Vasco, Leader of the Tribe
Vasco placed his front paws on the edge of the crate and stuck his head out. His snout raised, he happily breathed in the smells of the harbor--salt, fuel, burnt rubber, and rust--all of which indicated the presence of freighters. There is no better place in the world than this for a young rat, he thought as he stretched out his body. Each day humans dumped enough trash on the wharf to feed the entire tribe. Since his birth, Vasco had never known hunger. Life was easy for him. Eating and sleeping were all that he required.
Yet as the sun rose on the horizon, glimmers of dawn began to redden the harbor waters. The bustle of men would soon make this place too dangerous to linger around. It was time to go back.
His belly heavy with food, Vasco clumsily clambered up and passed through the hole in the crate. He fell onto the other side and scurried between the steel cables coiled on the wharf. Although he had never left the docks of the harbor, he felt more daring each day. This past night he had gone a little farther than usual from the nest. And who knew? Soon he might find the courage to go beyond the last landing dock, ...
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