Beneath the Ashes

   by Ricki T Thues ©2025

 

 

A Day in the Life

 

The world above is a cacophony of sounds—thundering footfalls, the rustle of ferns, the croak of amphibians and the distant roars of larger beasts. But here, below the surface in the damp dark earth, it is a different life. Luga twitches his nose, listening intently as he grooms his short fur. He navigates the dark labyrinthine tunnels he calls home. Drawn down to their burrow Luga brings today’s catch to his family. His mate, Mimwa, eats eagerly. They crowd into their soft grass nest with their two pups.

 

Luga is accustomed to the dark, it is the secure cool embrace of the earth, more so than the harsh sun above. As dawn’s warm light filters through the soil, Luga stirs in the nest. His mate snuggles close, pawing at the two squirming pups competing for her tits. Their warm presence is comforting.

 

Mimwa rises and pushes uneaten food into a corner of the den. Luga checks the tunnel outside the nest. Today is another day of foraging. Luga’s instincts guide him to the surface where he digs through the blocked earth tunnel with powerful claws. A few steps from the tunnel entrance are roots and insects. He digs and stores the food in his mouth. 

 

A typical day has Luga scuttling from one tunnel to the next. If the exit he needs is not available he digs a new one. His claws are always busy digging tunnels and gathering food. With each successful dig, he feels a surge of pride, a small victory.

 

As he emerges from this tunnel the air is thick with humidity and the scent of rain mingling with the musk of decaying leaves. The surface is alive. Large, dark predators stalk the shadows. Luga stands on hind legs, attentive, searching. A cautious step brings a hulking reptile into view. His heart races at the sight of Gorgon, its powerful limbs propelling it through the underbrush as it stalks a smaller reptile. From the corner of his eye Luga sees movement. It is a raptor dashing toward him. Luga darts back toward the tunnel and dives into the entrance. He works his hind legs furiously as he runs. Dirt flies behind him blocking the tunnel entrance. On the surface, the raptor skids to a stop nosing the dirt filled entrance. Luga runs down the labyrinth in the opposite direction from his den. Pulse pounds his ears like a drum. It is a delicate dance between survival and predation.

 

 

Extinction

 

As the sun sinks lower, the ground trembles. The earth shakes violently with a rumble that reverberates through the tunnels. Luga scrambles down to his den. He and Mimwa gather their pups, urging them to help burrow deeper. Anxiety grips them as they hide. The chaos above escalates and the family presses together, whispering soft worried sounds.

 

The tremors do not subside. The ground fractures and clouds of ash and dust fill the air. During a brief foray to the surface Luga sees the sun obscured, the sky turning an eerie shade of gray. He realizes this is no ordinary storm. This feels like the end of the world. He hurries back to his burrow.

 

The ash continues to fall, choking the life from the surface. The familiar sounds of the world are replaced by silence. The family loses track of time as they huddle in their burrow. Fear of the unknown is all they feel. Days blur together and food stores become scarce.

 

Luga ventures out, driven by hunger and need. The world is unrecognizable. Trees lie toppled, their roots exposed, and the air is thick with a noxious haze. He scavenges for anything edible but the landscape is barren, the once-rich soil turned to dust. He returns to his family with nothing, heart heavy with despair.

 

The days drag on. The pups weaken. He shares the last scraps of food, but it is not enough. The realization strikes that they are no longer just hiding from predators but are fighting for their very survival.

 

One evening Luga makes a choice. He seeks out the depths of the earth where perhaps the climate is stable and life can still exist. He leads his family deeper into the burrows, away from the devastation above. As they tunnel down there are occasional grubs, worms and beetles to consume. Deep tasty tap roots are preserved by the earth. They hold onto hope, clinging to the faint possibility that they might find safety in the depth of darkness.

 

 

Dawn

 

Generations pass. Luga’s descendants are gathered in the large central cavern of their den. They are herding beetles into cages made of pieces of root. They care for and cultivate the roots for food and tools. Bigu’s family looks like Luga’s but are larger, with sleek fur and sharper claws. Their skin is white from lack of sun exposure. 

 

On the surface, the days of darkness eventually give way to a new dawn. The trembling subsides, and the world begins to heal, though the surface is still a wasteland. Bigu ventures up through the tunnels of his ancestor’s world, leading his family to the remnants of their kind’s old life. 

 

To Bigu’s surprise, when he emerges from the tunnel he finds small plants sprouting through the ash. Insects busy themselves. An occasional bird calls.

 

Time passes and they adapt to their new above ground environment. They learn to feed on the new foliage, digging up roots and insects hidden beneath the ground. The family grows strong. In the evening they seek shelter in niche caves of rock cairns where they make their nest.

 

But the world has changed. The predators of old have perished and the few that remain are different yet still lethal. Bigu’s family endures. They are smart survivors.

 

 

Survivors

 

Some time in the future in a distant valley, a family emerges from a large cave. They look like the Bigu family but are much larger, standing and walking upright. They have very short fur and claws like fingernails. The leader, a sturdy male named Arin, surveys the area casting his eyes from side to side. The sun filters through the canopy of trees illuminating jungle foliage, small tusked spotted deer, pygmy boars and cackling birds.

 

“Today we catch a boar,” Arin announces to his family, his voice a low rumble. The young boys pick up poking sticks and follow their father into the brush.

 

The group moves in unison with practiced coordination. The scent of damp earth and blooming flowers fills the air. Excitement surges. Today they will kill a boar for a tribal feast.

 

As they travel Arin shares stories of the past — of the great tremors that reshaped their world, of the dangers they faced and the losses they endured. 

 

“We are the descendants of those who survived. Our strength is to adapt.” 

 

The younger members listen intently, their eyes wide with wonder. They may not understand the weight of history yet their dreams will form the future.

 

In a clearing is a small boar. The two boys skirt the clearing in opposite directions. On a bird call from their father they rush the boar chasing it toward him. Arin steps forward, spear leveled. He uses the speed of the boar and the aim of experience to empale the animal. The boys stab the boar repeatedly from behind. In a struggle of grunts and an exhaustion of breath the boar dies.

 

As the sun sets, the family returns to their cave. Slung between them is the boar. The children chant a march. Arin’s mate returns from foraging nuts and vegetables with the other females of the tribe. All the families huddle in the center of the cave and eat. After the meal each of the families curl together in separate parts of the cave. They share each other’s warmth and stories, enveloped in the comforting darkness of their home.