My kvatch yips at me as I sit in my ruddy gray plop-down. The glimmer glows blek color up in the highest air and brights up pointy glass biters round my window hole on my next. I've got my flicker-burner going on my front and I wiggle my fingers real close to melt out the shivers. The air has been biting more these last few brights. My kvatch, all rounded up by the flicker-burner, keeps yipping and I say 'OK.'
We step out into the glimmer, me wearing my fur warms I cut off a black roar-paw and my kvatch wearing his own, all blek-gold. He tip-tapps down the smooth rock way into the yellow haze.
I found my first kvatch under a rubble pile on the next of a high sky house. He had black fur and wide white seers smacked on his face. This kvatch is my second, the first offed by some of those weepy raiders that rabble around stealing and laughing and offing things.
The air whaps at my face and creaks the tall, gray, leaning sky towers on my each side. I saw a sky tower fall once, it creaked away for a big time and then let out a big groan and just came on down, glass clinkling and metal crashing. That doesn't worry me much now though because these sky towers don't lean too much and don't creak too loud. Stuff's all settled. Me and my kvatch should be safe. I still hear his tip-tapping in my hearers even if my seers don't see in the mucky yellow haze.
Damn the weepy cold. The air keeps biting at my face and hands and makes them all red and craggly. I lost my hand and head fur warms when me and my kvatch had to quick away from some raiders and one of their growling, metal wheel runners. This one had a monster's face and jagged biters drawn on its front. It came rolling out of the yellow haze, biters smiling, and quicked after us, raiders whooping and wailing on its inside and on its top. My kvatch tripped over its trotters and almost got offed, but I quicked back to grab him. It's getting harder and harder to find kvatches in the streets these brights so I try and take extra care of mine. He's good. Keeps me good company. Keeps me warm when I go out in the darks. Keeps me good and clear with his goofy kvatch grin. I like him lots. Would hate to see raiders off him like my last one. Wouldn't know what to do without him.
The tip-tapping stops. I don't hear him yip or anything so I just keep on walking, probably stopped to take a small kvatch water. He's too far on my front to see in the yellow haze. I keep on patting down the smooth rock road. The long white stripe down the middle goes on forever, never found out who drew that. My kvatch starts yipping. My hearers hear some cackling on my front even though my seers can't see. I quick through the haze, layers being peeled back, a little more of the white stripe every step, like I'm not even quicking. One more layer gets peeled back and my seers see three damn weepy raiders standing round my yipping kvatch. Their ratty leather fur warms still have patches of fur lining and spotting them and their hair is shived off except for one tall spike looking like sky towers surrounding my kvatch.
"Let's eat the damn thing" talks one with black drawn round his seers in points.
"No we can sell it, you don't see gold ones too often," talks another, red points on his cheeks.
"You don't touch him!" I shout at the damn weepers, probably shouldn't have.
They turn my way, their wily seers seeing me down.
"Well look there," talks the one with the white face and black stripes, "got a little kid here."
"Where your mom and dad? You all alone out here with this thing?"
I keep my talker shut, see them down hard.
"He's a loner, let's just leave him, take his clothes."
"Give use your clothes, kid, and we'll leave you your dog."
I think they're talking about my kvatch but using strange speaks to talk it. I never know what the big, weepy raiders are talking.
"You understand us kid?"
"You want my kvatch?" I talk.
"Your kvatch?" this one looks around all wily and confused with his seers darting round and round. They land on my kvatch eventually, all cowering and whimpering scared.
"Your dog?"
I guess they call it different.
"Your parents didn't teach you to talk right did they?" says the one with points round his seers.
"You can't have it," I talk.
"Aright, then give us your clothes."
I don't know these speaks they use. I know what they mean though; you don't really need to talk the same to get each other.
I nod; slowly pulling off my fur warms, letting the air bite, making me all red and raw. One laughs.
"Good luck kid, won't last long without anything to keep you warm."
They give my kvatch a little boot with their walkers and vanish into the yellow haze. He tip-taps back to me and lets out a pity of yip, his round seers seeing up at me. I pick him up; his fur melts out my shivers as I cradle him in my arms. The two of us head home through the yellow haze, creaking sky towers looming on our nexts.
