Dirty, matted figures burst from the kennels. They loped out on all fours, sniffing and snarling behind long matted hair. Dirt and feces and dried blood covered their bodies and the tattered remains of what could have been some old tunic or sack mended for the purpose.

The three creatures descended on the thigh, howling.

Ghrasia’s gorge rose. Their fingers dug into the meat.

The creatures were human. Or had once been.

They fought and snarled over their prize. Great pools of twisted flesh made puckered scars around where their eyes should have been. They were young, in their teens, perhaps. Living exclusively on human flesh in such conditions might have stunted them, though. For all she knew, they had lived this way for a century.

“I’m freeing them,” the assassin said. He threw another hunk of Halimey over the fence. Another frenzy ensued. “They know now that they are just animals. Weak beasts, to be cared for and to serve a superior people. I am training them, you see. The way you will all be trained to serve us.”

Ghrasia left herself then. It was a strange, detached feeling, like watching some other little woman holed up in a tree house with a madman while children feasted like wild dogs on the desecrated remains of her companion. From the outside, it was easier to understand what she needed to do. She focused on Halimey’s coat and the bulging pocket of scorch pods.

“It must have taken great strength to live here all alone,” she said, looking away from the coat.

The assassin reached for another of Halimey’s limbs, disturbing the coat. He slapped a long, tattered arm onto the table. She listened to the chewing, crunching sound of his captives gnawing on what he’d fed them.

“Strength beyond measure,” he said. He peered at her. “You’ll do, I think.”

“How’s that?”

“I’ve been wondering what to do with you,” he said. “Feed you to them… or make you one of them. What do you think? The great Dhai hero, one of my dogs.”

“I expect that will make you very happy,” Ghrasia said. “Are you going to blind me with your bare hands? I suspect there’s a better way to do that.”

“Oh, there is,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

He moved toward her. Ghrasia tensed. She had no defense against him. He was gifted and she was not. If she moved quickly enough to cause him serious pain, she might be able to break his concentration, but she would have to be fast.