In the year 3137, a place no person of today would ever recognize, the remnants of New York City still stands. Although with new inhabitants. Humans are a legend to most now, only a few have even been seen in the past and now they are even rarer, but they have changed, just like most of the world.
Instead of men walking the destroyed streets of the Big Apple, their ancestors stride. The human race left their mess of wastes and failed experiments; after years and years of exposure, those who chose to stay began to change. Now, they are no longer freaks, they are the normal ones.
Many of the people gained an animalistic appearance, others got cancer and died. This is how most know the world now. They use what they can salvage to survive and live in the collapsing skeletons of the old world.
This is where Cumulus's story begins, a young buck of about 22 years of age. His muscles are hard and his fists harder, an average colored white tailed deer turned man or vice versa, with a long bow made from a duo of leaf springs from the back of an odd four wheeled object covered in thick cakes of rust and decay. The string, taken from the same scrap, is made from a long copper set of cables, all held together with knots of the cord and some sticky type of rolled fabric, a picture of a duck and some strange scribbles on the innards of the roll.
Dressed in the tattered remains of army fatigues, the young buck silently slides through the tall grass of what used to be Central Park. He takes aim and fires in the blink of an eye, sending the bencly to the silent land. A bencly is the main source of food because it doesn't resemble any of the residents, a genetic freak of the old world's failure.
As he moves to go fetch his dinner, a sudden noise makes him crouch back into the cover of the grass. Soon, a trio of furrs come passing by a thick, shabbily made bag carried in their hands, occasionally giving a kick and grunt, showing that what they carried was alive and not pleased about being held prisoner in the confines of the sack.
Without another thought, Cumulus starts after them, moving silently, not even noticing when they cross the line and enter into the Home of Death, a place that is highly forbidden by all of the citizens. Yet, for some strange reason, all he can think about is following them, wanting to know the contents of the bag.
Cumulus's jaw literally drops when the three and the bag go through a giant, rusty gate, the edges of the surrounding fence covered with old but still sharp looking barbed wire. It takes two large looking bulls to open and close the heavy gate.
Once it closes, Cumulus looks around until finally he finds that one of the guard towers of this former prison, as it turns out to have been, has collapsed and he jumps from a piece of rubble to the next until he is inside the fence.
He puts his bow and satchel of arrows under some rocks to help him keep quiet and draws a long, thin gutting knife from the wreckage of a fishing boat. Following the path he saw the trio on, he looks in each barrack, showing him one of the strangest things he's ever seen, in each bed lay a human, covered with a thin blanket for warmth. This is the first time he's seen a human other than in the old pictures in books. He catches sight of them as they turn into one of the barracks, leading with them a very bedraggled looking human. He watches through the dusty, cracked up old window as they yell at him, beat him and finally leave him bloody on the floor.
As they file out the door one catches sight of Cumulus at the window and screams to his companions to get the trespasser. The first one, a thinly built greyhound runs at him, and then falls with a bloody nose and possibly a black eye from the buck's half hoofed fist. The second, a very angry looking Billy goat with only one horn, comes running and knocks Cumulus to the ground. The goat tries to hold him down but is quickly thrown off against the barrack wall. Without a moment's pause, the leader of the group, a very stuck-up looking Chinese hairless dog, runs at him with a shiny black piece of metal in his hands.
Cumulus jumps as there is a crack of thunder and a flash issue forth from the end of the object, a chunk of dirt exploding beside him. With an expert aim he flings his knife, burying it in the chest of the enemy, watching him collapse to the ground in a heap. He searches the bodies and the unconscious henchmen and takes all he can find that could be valuable. Paying extra care to wrap the shiny object up safely.
Not seeing another person around he opens the door and kneels looking at the human and tries to wake him. He had been taught from birth to help others in need and not to let the bigger furr push you around, now he is doing just that, stopping the bully and helping a person in need. With only a few words he is able to get the human to wake and then starts waking the other humans telling them to run back to where they came from.
Over 2000 humans left the prison that day, all returning to their home which just so happened to be Manhattan Island, all that time they had been living secretly, in a community just like there used to be. In the center of their island now stands a shining bronze statue of their hero. Cumulus lived out his days with them, learning and teaching each other's ways.
The End
