Hellsborough Exposed

Round the scrap yards there's one shape the made keep settling back into, often enough that folk gave it a name rather than a shrug: the Ratterstar, built along the lines of a gnawmard that kept adding legs it didn't strictly need. Four is common; I counted seven on one, once, and did not stay to count again. Look past the shape and it's small bones, sinew, a tooth or two that don't match, and scraps of hide grown together by whatever trick gets any made up and moving. Where the parts come from before the made get to them I couldn't tell you, and every scrap trader I've asked has suddenly remembered something else they had to be doing. Middens half-tolerate them anyway, because they root out things you'd rather not find in the rubbish yourself, and the arrangement works best the less anyone thinks about it. If one goes still and splays its legs flat into a star, back off rather than reach for it: threat display or fright, it's not a meaning you want to test.