The Wildings by Nilanjana Roy

teeth, aren’t they? It’ll hurt a lot when those reach you, meat, but it won’t hurt for very long, will it?” There was a rusty, prickling tug at his whiskers that sounded like dark laughter, and the kitten shuddered.
    The dog slammed its paw into the cane, and the bed sighed and broke. Southpaw yelped as the cane dropped in front of his face, grazing his whiskers; now he was caught firmly like a rat in a trap. The kitten scrambled backwards, feeling the door behind him, and then he heard a ripping sound, and felt one of the old, sodden planks of the door begin to give way.
    At the edge of the veranda, Miao had crept up, and she slashed twice, viciously, at the dog’s leg. It howled as her claws raked its side, but when it spun around, Miao had melted away into the shadows. The dog padded a few paces away from the bed, head cocked as it tried to scent the Siamese. Then it lost interest, and turned back to the kitten.
    It shoved a paw right through the part of the cane that was over Southpaw’s head, and the kitten cringed, looking up into air, his gaze locking with the dog’s victorious eyes. The next blow, or the one after that, would get him, and he saw the gleam of saliva on the dog’s teeth as the animal contemplated its next move.
    Miao had climbed up to the roof of the veranda, and now she dropped down, landing on the dog’s back. She sank her teeth into its flank, screaming a battle cry at the big beast. It whirled, growling ferociously, and for a time it looked as though the cat was riding a bucking horse rather than a dog. “Get off or you’ll be killed!” Katar called, getting unsteadily to his feet. The Siamese narrowed her eyes, preparing to leap clear. Cats rarely attacked dogs, and when they did, the best chance of a clean attack was to make a fast, dirty assault and then a quick getaway.
    “Move one: she’ll lose her balance, fall off, but land on her feet,” said the cold voice in Southpaw’s ear. “Move two: she’s a fast runner, so she’ll get away before the dog realizes she’s off its back. Move three: back to where we started. You’re dead meat. It’s a sad little story, but it’s just not your lucky day.”
    The Siamese was shaken so hard that it looked as though she was flying off the dog’s back. She hit the ground running, and the beast’s massive jaws snapped shut on empty air. The dog howled its anger and defiance, but Miao, moving so fast she’d looked as though she was floating across the grass, was already halfway up a tree. The dog wasted no further time on her; it was back at the veranda in two paces, and it was in a killing mood.
    “Or,” said the cold, bored voice, “you could take your chances with us. We’ll kill you as well, but at least we’re your own kind. I’ll give you a sporting chance, how about that?” From inside the house, a paw flicked at the rotten planks, creating a hole in the door.
    Southpaw stared at the dog. The animal was poised abovehim; its tongue was hanging out, and in a few seconds, its paw would slam down, perhaps for the last time.
    From where he was, standing but wobbly in the undergrowth, Katar guessed the kitten’s thoughts. “Not the Shuttered House, Southpaw! It’s too dangerous!”
    The stench of the Shuttered House was strong in the kitten’s nostrils, the scent of death, decay, blood and madness. The house held the promise of death, but perhaps, thought Southpaw, he might escape from whatever was in there. But there was no escape from the dog, who was leaning in for the killing bite.
    “Oh, do come in, meat,” said the insidious voice. “It”ll be so much fun.”
    The dog’s paw came crashing down just as Southpaw threw himself backwards, breaking through the soft wood of the plank, tumbling into the Shuttered House as Miao and Katar watched helplessly.
    “For us, that is,” added the chilly voice, as Southpaw disappeared from view.

T he fall was longer than Southpaw had expected; the floor of the house was