“Are we ever released?” Melcorka asked the other prisoners.
“Only to feed the cats,” the reply came after a long pause.
“Are we ever released at the same time?” Melcorka asked.
“No. One at a time, with Chattan and his cat-women present.”
Melcorka pulled at her chains again, wondering how she could escape. “It doesn't look too hopeful, then.”
“There is no hope,” the woman at Melcorka's side said. “It is best to accept the inevitable. When it is my turn, I will jump in the pit, so Chattan does not see my fear, and I will stretch my jugular to ensure a quick death.”
“I'll fight to my last breath and kill as many cats as I can,” Melcorka said.
“What will that avail you?” The woman asked.
“Pride,” Melcorka said. “And if I kill them all, I will climb out and kill Chattan as well.”
“They will still kill you, and there are always more cats.”
“If I am dead,” Melcorka said. “I won't care if there are more cats or not.”
She relapsed into silence again, still working at her chains. “We must fight them.” Nobody replied. One youth began to sob.
“We must fight them,” Melcorka repeated.
“There is no point,” the neighbouring woman said. “It's better to accept the inevitable and greet death calmly.”
Melcorka grunted in denial. “I'll fight to my last breath.”
There was no answer in that place of depression and defeat. More time passed; the lanterns began to gutter as their fuel failed. The cats set up a howling, running back and forward in their stinking pit.
“They're hungry,” the woman beside Melcorka said. “Chattan will be coming soon. Say your prayers, everybody, and may God have mercy on our souls.”
“God will have to wait to meet me,” Melcorka said through gritted teeth. “And the devil can prepare a hot hob for Chattan.” She had no idea how to validate her words but knew she would not die quietly.
Melcorka watched as the door opened and Chattan appeared, humming a little song. “Soon, my darlings,” he said to his cats. “Soon, you will have fresh meat.” Two cat-women followed him with painted faces and narrow, predatory eyes.
Dried blood still stained the bandage covering the wound on Chattan's neck as he slowly walked past the prisoners, running his hand over each man and woman. “Will we choose you today?” He stopped at the sobbing youth. “Shall I end the misery of your life?” He walked his fingers down the youth's face and from his neck to his groin. “No, not today. You can suffer some more. How about you?” Chattan stopped at the woman next to Melcorka. “Are you ready to die?”
“Yes,” the woman did not lift her head as Chattan played with her tangled hair. “Yes, Lord Chattan. I am ready.”
“Oh?” Lifting her head by putting a finger under her chin, Chattan kissed her full on the lips. “In that case, my pretty, you can wait.” He stepped to Melcorka. “Now you, my fiery woman. Shall I feed you to the cats?” He pressed a finger against Melcorka”s forehead, pressing her head back, then walked his fingers down her face. “How long will you take to die?”
“I'll see you die first, coward!” Waiting until Chattan's fingers were on her lips, Melcorka opened her mouth wide and bit hard, holding on. She anticipated Chattan jerking his fingers back, ignored the pain and worried as hard as she could, tasting blood and feeling the grate of bone beneath her teeth. Screaming, Chattan writhed, until the two cat-women arrived and forced Melcorka's jaws open. She kicked out, catching one woman on the knee, missed Chattan by an inch and spat his blood over his face.
“You taste sweet, Chattan!”
“Take her!” Chattan crouched, holding his injured fingers to his stomach. “Feed her to the cats!”
When the two women approached, Melcorka sighed and hung in her chains as though accepting her death. “Come on then,” she said. “Get it over with.”
Still wary, the women used a small metal key to unfasten Melcorka's chains and led her the three steps to the edge of the pit. Knowing it was feeding time, the cats gathered directly beneath, with the king tabby staring up through its green eyes.
“Well,” Melcorka took a deep breath. “Goodnight and God be with you all.” She extended one foot over the edge, twisted her hip and threw the woman at her side into the pit. The cat-woman screamed, scrabbled at her companion for help. For a few seconds, both tottered on the brink, dropping the small key that had opened the chains. Scooping it up, Melcorka leapt to the prisoner nearest to her and unfastened her chains. Aware of Chattan shouting for more cat-women, Melcorka did not have time to free more prisoners.
“Here,” Melcorka handed the key to the woman she had released. “Free the rest.”
Turning around, Melcorka gave the two cat-women a final push that sent them tumbling into the pit before throwing herself at Chattan, kicking at his injured hand. Chattan screamed, and a dozen cat-women ran into the room, leaping at Melcorka.
“Come on!” Melcorka yelled, “you prisoners! Fight for your lives.” She glanced over her shoulder to see the prisoners still chained to the wall. The woman she had released stared at her.
“It's no use,” the woman said. “It's better to accept our fate than to struggle against it. That is God's will.”
“It's not my will,” Melcorka used all her accumulated skills to fight against the rush of women, but there were too many. She felled one, jabbed straight fingers into the throat of a second, and then the cat-women swarmed all over her. Throwing Melcorka to the ground, they held her there, struggling, as Chattan came up.
Dripping blood from his injured hand, Chattan glared at
