by L. A. Morse
But now it is their turn, and the women begin the chant.
“Stick... stock... stuck.
You’ve run out of luck.
Kill... kill... kill.
We will eat our fill.”
The fires are lit under the three platforms. As the flames mount, the women chant louder and louder over the roar of the fires. The heat sears their throats; the smoke enters their lungs. Their skin reddens and blisters. When the pain becomes too intense, they give up the chant and begin to howl. The howls become screams of terrible pain—and then at last there is only the sound of the flames. Flesh blisters and blackens, melting away from bones that crack and explode and become ash.
The fires die down, smolder, then go out.
The crowd departs.
The square is empty now except for two soldiers who are shoveling the ashes of the family into a large sack. From the shadows of an alley, two pairs of eyes watch until the soldiers are gone.
He-Cub and She-Cub leave the alley and walk into the center of the square. They look at the little piles of ashes that remain. Their expressions are blank. They turn to each other. On their identical faces the same small, knowing, evil grin appears.
Table of Contents
Preface
BOOK ONE
Chapter I
Chapter II
BOOK TWO
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
BOOK THREE
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III