The Ace of Skulls

Epilogue

In the gloomy, gaping silence of the Ketty Jay’s hold, tiny claws clicked on metal.

It was a small rat, not like the great monsters of old, but it had courage beyond its size. It came out tentatively and slipped along a narrow pipe with its body held low, then clambered down the bulkhead to the floor. Once there, it stood on its hind legs and raised itself, sniffing the air.

Instinct told it to be careful. It was a foolish rat that braved the open spaces with the Adversary about.

But things had changed of late. The terrible stench of their tormentor had faded from the vents and ducts and the deep places. The scourge of generations had departed, it seemed, and the rats grew bold. They sensed the balance of power in their world had shifted.

The rat ran out into the hold, stopped, sniffed around again. The chill air held the promise of great bounty. It could smell edible things inside some of those crates. The ducts were meagre hunting grounds, but here was the promised land they’d been denied for so long. It scuttled off, following the scent.

This one was only the first; there would be others, and more after them. The rats would come, and they’d feed, and they’d breed. The Ketty Jay would be theirs again.

A thumping of paws came quick from the shadows. The rat turned to flee back the way it had come, but the cat sensed its plan and intercepted it. Claws like blades plunged into its side. Fanged jaws snapped shut on its throat.

It was a foolish rat that braved the open spaces with the Adversary about.

The ugly mottled cat tore and gulped at the flesh, and licked the blood from her black and orange fur. She was not a big tom like Slag had been, but she was learning that these little rats were not beyond her. There were many of them, and that was good, for she was often hungry now.

She ate every morsel she could strip from the carcass, and left the remains where they lay. Then she padded away across the hold, back towards the little nest she’d made in a far dark corner. She went to sleep with the taste of the hunt still on her tongue, and the warm presence of new life quickening in her belly.