The Ugly Duckling Of The Tiger Tribe-Chapter 180: The tunnel was plenty high for the rabbits

From the shadows of the grain, three figures emerged. They were barely three feet tall, covered in sleek, tawny fur that matched the grain perfectly.

They wore intricate chest plates made of what looked like hardened beetle husks and carried spears tipped with what looked like obsidian—limestone. Their large, dark eyes were fixed on us with unnerving focus, and their long, pink tails flicked behind them like whips.

The leader, wearing a tiny cloak made of woven spider-silk, stepped forward. He looked at the rabbits, then at the troller, and finally, his gaze traveled up... and up... until he was staring at me.

I wonder. What is the use of all this get-up if they can die with a single whip of Damar’s tail?

Or is it just their pride on the line?

Well, I guess they never expected big predators like us to come to their territory in the first place.

I applaud them for being able to make innovations with whatever they had, but it’s only going to work with their fellow small creatures, not towards big beastmen.

I do hope that a situation where we have to fend them off doesn’t come. We’ll get buried by a thousand mice if that happens.

The leader twitched his whiskers, a scent-memory occurring to him.

"The Rabbit-Kin bring... companions. Dangerous companions. A warrior-heart, a serpent-soul, and..." He paused, sniffing the air deeply. "A Tiger-female?"

He looked at my clear, glowing face, then at the pink bar of soap I still had tucked into my pouch. His nose twitched, annoyingly, a hundred times a second.

"You smell of... mountain berries and clean water," he squeaked, sounding more baffled than threatened. "Why does a predator smell like a spring morning?"

I cleared my throat, trying to keep my face from twisting in a grimace of disgust. Up close, they were exactly what I feared—twitchy, fast, and far too many of them.

"I like to be clean," I said, my voice echoing in the quiet clearing. "And we’ve come for the grain. We have no interest in your tunnels beyond a fair trade."

I made sure to set our goals out so they don’t misunderstand.

The Mouseling leader looked at Fenric’s growling presence and Damar’s towering height, then back to my ’spring morning’ scent. He gestured toward the dark hole in the mound.

"The Matriarch expects the Long-Ears. But she did not expect the predators. Follow. And keep your ’claws’ tucked in, Big-Walkers. The earth has many teeth."

I frowned. Why does it feel like I just got talked down to by an inferior species?

Grr, this pisses me off but I’ll hold it in for now.

I looked at the dark tunnel, then at the golden sun I was about to leave behind. I took one last deep breath of fresh air, clutched my soap pouch, and stepped toward the dark.

(For clarity, Arinya has two pouches tied around her waist. One is her salt and the other is the soap bar, so they’re not in the same pouch.)

As we crossed the threshold, the warmth of the sun vanished, replaced by a sudden, heavy chill. The air didn’t just feel cool; it felt ’used,’ thick with the scent of dry soil and a million different musk trails.

But I can’t help that stifling rat smell. Thanks to my sensitive nose, I can get their stench even with the heavy mold of earth filling the air and it disgusted me.

I was doing my best not to throw up, honestly.

The descent was a long, gentle slope. The walls weren’t just dirt; they were packed so hard they felt like stone, polished smooth by generations of passing bodies. Every few feet, there were glowing mosses or small, bioluminescent mushrooms tucked into niches, casting a dim, greenish-yellow light that made the shadows look like they were dancing.

"Watch your head," Robi whispered, though he didn’t need to.

The tunnel was plenty high for the rabbits, but for Fenric and Damar, it was a tight fit. Fenric had to hunch his shoulders, his head nearly brushing the ceiling, which made him look like a caged animal—tense and ready to snap. Damar, luckily, could just stay low to the ground, his scales scraping against the clay. I hope he’s okay there though. He doesn’t usually glide that low.

As we went deeper, the main tunnel began to branch off into hundreds of smaller ones. It was like looking into a giant ant farm. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

I peeked into one of the side openings and saw a glimpse of their life. It wasn’t just a hole; it was organized chaos.

There were ’streets’ where Mouselings scurried past each other at lightning speed, carrying tiny woven baskets or bundles of straw.

I saw living quarters that looked like cozy, rounded pods lined with soft grass, and massive ’pantry’ rooms piled high with golden grain that reached the ceiling.

It was... domestic. Surprisingly domestic.

There were ’workshops’ where the air hummed with the sound of weaving looms.

It surprised me, really. No matter how I think about it, the Mouseling Tribe seems to be more civilized.

They have a market and workshop. They have a freaking weaving loom too. Though it was small and wasn’t as efficient as the ones I know from the 21st century, it was still something great.

And do you know where they get their wool or thread from?

Well, I don’t but I definitely want to find out.

The further we went, the more it felt like a bustling city that had simply been flipped underground.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. From every dark nook and high crevice, pairs of tiny, glowing eyes tracked our progress.

We were the ’Big-Walkers,’ the giants in their basement, and the sheer number of them was staggering. For every one mouse I saw, I felt like there were a hundred more hiding behind the walls.

"It’s like a beehive," I muttered, my hand instinctively going to my nose to block out the overwhelming scent of fur.

"It is the Warren," the leader squeaked from the front, his tail flicking with pride. "Every grain has a place. Every mouse has a purpose. We are coming to the Great Chamber now. The Matriarch sits inside."

The tunnel opened up into a space so large I couldn’t see the far walls. The ceiling was held up by massive, unhewn pillars of earth, and the floor was covered in a carpet of soft, sweet-smelling husks.

In the center of this massive hall, sitting on a throne made of polished walnut and soft feathers, was the smallest mouse I had ever seen.

The matriarch!