"Up an' at 'em! C'mon, wake up, dontcha want yer num-nums?"

"Enough of that," MacVitie mumbled, "I'm not asleep, just thinking…" But as he sat up, he got the distinct impression—given the ache in his back and limbs and the droopiness in his eyelids—that he had indeed dozed off. For how long, he couldn't say. Looking at the speaker, he saw he'd once more been awakened by the twins—well, one of them. "You aren't Gil—Genghis," he frowned. He felt a twinge of guilt that until this moment he'd not even considered the twins and how "the plan" would affect them.

"I should 'ope not," Rumpelteazer giggled, passing a few pieces of fish through the bars—not raw fish from the docks, either, but nice fish, prepared and cooked. Mack suspected Teazer or Jerrie had recently acquired it from a human—possibly straight off the human's dinner table a half hour ago.

The ginger tom glanced from the food back to the grinning tabby queen, still frowning distrustfully. "Don't you think you should take this away—and stop coming here, for that matter?"

"Eh?" Teazer scratched her head in confusion, smile faltering. "Wot fer? Why should I? Sorry if ya wan'ed to talk t' Jerrie instead, but 'e volunteered t' take the queens their share whilst I brought yours…"

"I mean that the two of you will get yourselves in trouble if you keep trying to sneak us treats."

"Wot d'yew want, to starve?" the younger queen demanded.

"Of course not, but…"

"Oh," she laughed, realization dawning, "y'mean yew think we ain't supposed t' bring you anyfin'. Put yer mind at rest, M'cavity, these is our orders."

"You're certain? From Genghis?" Mack asked, still doubtful.

"Certain sure," Teazer assured him. "Didn' we already tell ya yer bein' punished, not killed? S'long as yew follow the rules, you'll eat this well every day." She gave him a solemn look. "Have yew been followin' the rules?"

"I think so. I hardly know what they are."

"Oh, y'know, like we've toldja. No escapin', no complainin', no causin' a stir. Specially escapin'. Even a hint of escapin' an' yer friends'll stop gettin' food. Boss's orders. I can't disobey 'im," the little queen emphasized, nodding pointedly at the fish. "So tuck in, Mackey thing, I gots t'make sure there's no spare bones. Promise you'll toss 'em to me if there are. Bones makes good lockpicks, y'know."

"I suppose you would know," MacVitie muttered, unwilling to admit that such a thought as using a bone for a lockpick had not in fact occurred to him. He had until now lived quite the sheltered life—even the horrors from his past were ones he had only heard of from his family, not seen for himself. He was certainly not automatically programmed, as Jerrie and Teazer seemed, to consider every situation from an underhanded-dealings point of view. Dismissing such thoughts, he allowed himself to eat at last. He hardly had any appetite for it, his belly ached so with unease. If he and the queens were to be well-fed, Gilbert must have something else in mind for them—something dreadful to show Growltiger he wasn't being too lenient with the prisoners.

"Say, chin up, Mackey," Teazer said, reaching her paw through the bars to pat him on the shoulder. "Me'n Jerrie got that nice fish special for yew. No need t'be all glum an' gloomy like as yer about to expire, when I've explained that yer certainly not. Less'n you do somefin' naughty." She frowned, and shook a paw in front of his face as a warning gesture. "No funny bus'ness; I likes ya, Mackey, an' don't want 'im to kill ya."

"How kind of you to say," Mack rolled his eyes, forcing the fish down more for Teazer's benefit than his. "I'm rather partial to staying alive, myself." At least for now. If anything were to happen to the queens… No, he'd not allow himself to think that way. As he finished the meal and tossed the few bones through the bars, the tabby queenkit's grin returned.

"That's th' ticket! Righ', then, we're agreed, you'll be good?"

"Of course I'll be good," Mack sighed. What choice did he have?

"In that case, I've gotta be off now, but no worries, soon enough me'r Jerrie'll be back wif more vittles!"

But Rumpelteazer wasn't back "soon enough," nor Mungojerrie. For an undeterminable length of time—Mack had to assume it was several days, since he slept and woke multiple times—the ginger tom saw neither the twins nor anyone else. At first this bothered him but little, except that he'd hoped to occasionally receive at least some sort of news indicating his friends still lived. He told himself they must be alive—Growltiger needed them to be—they were his only hold over MacVitie, after all, surely he knew that. But then, if Mack was simply being ignored, perhaps the Tiger had decided he needed none of them after all? Thinking round in such circles over and over, it never occurred to MacVitie to seriously worry that he was in fact being left to die.

Until he noticed vaguely through his preoccupation that he felt "all wrong" somehow and remembered that it must have been a long time since his last meal. He had not gone completely without water as the occasional puddle appeared within his reach—evidently there was a fault in the den's walling somewhere, and thankfully it must have been rainy the past…however long it had been. Still, one needed food… He also began to notice his cage stinking terribly, seeing as he'd no proper litter box. Briefly, he searched around for a good way to dispose of it, perhaps a convenient hole in the wall to sweep it out through, then perhaps the next time that worthless Gilbert came round he'd fall headlong into filth… But he soon gave up the attempt. The only way he could see to remove his own dirt from the cage would be carrying it to the front and shoving it by pawsfull out through the bars. Perhaps in time he'd be reduced to such a thing, but not yet. There was still enough of the spoilt young Jellicle kit in him to disdain touching anything so disgusting, never mind that dirtiness ought to be the least of his worries. He merely scooted up into a corner as far away from the litter corner as he could possibly get, and stared wearily out through the bars, wondering if he was the only living creature left on earth.

This thought gave him something of a jolt, and he couldn't help smirking slightly. It was the sort of melodramatic thing Tugger would say: "Woe is me. I am the only creature left on this earth. Wah, wah, wah." Part of what got queens past Tugger's utter uselessness, Mack considered idly, must be his ability to be quite eloquent with words when he chose. What would Tugger have named the disgusting dirtplace over there… Dark Evil Corner of Stinking Darkness… Then I'd gather some and put it under his pillow while he slept… Now, that would be worth dirtying his paws for. At least, he thought wryly, if they continue keeping food from me, I shouldn't make too much more of a mess…

He was awakened by voices some time later, though he hadn't realized he'd drifted off. Languid from hunger, he didn't immediately jump to his paws and look to see who it was, as he would normally have done. It was just as well he didn't, for it caused him to pause and reflect a moment—he decided to feign continued sleep and try if he could listen in on anything of importance: though, truth be told, it was something of a chore to keep himself from actually falling back asleep.

"There, see for yourself," said one voice, which he thought was Gilbert's. A moment later Mack heard a gasp quite near him, and had to force himself to remain still with his eyes closed. Now was not the moment to act rashly and lose the chance of getting information.

"Vitie," quivered the voice he knew to be Demeter's, "what have they done to you?"

"I only follow orders," continued Gilbert, unmoved. "I don't know what sort of an exchange the Lady has offered you, but I suggest you comply. She is not one to trifle with, as I am sure you have discovered. Comply with her Ladyship's wishes, and I trust your little friend here will be looked after. Continue to rebel and… Well, I can't answer for what happens to him, it's up to his own good health and vitality. Not exactly looking prime even now, though, is he?"

So that was it, then. Nothing useful to hear here, only the queens being manipulated and bullied into doing whatever Griddlebone wished. And there were only so many things it could be.

"Don't," he muttered, trusting she might hear but not Gilbert. But what matter if he did? It would change nothing, and the most important thing now was to stop Demeter ruining herself for his sake. Demeter gave no indication of hearing him. "Don't," he repeated, more urgently.

"He is lively enough to feign sleep," Gilbert sneered, "as if we did not know all along." Blast the tom and his bloody keen Siamese ears.

Giving up all pretense, MacVitie opened his eyes and found himself staring straight into Demeter's tormented face. "Whatever she's asking you, don't do it," he went on quickly, seeing her about to speak. "You can't trust any of this lot—they are all liars. You'll give everything and get nothing in return. Don't let them win. I'll be fine…"

"He is an idiot," Gilbert interrupted, his voice now seeming to come from behind Mack, who didn't bother to turn and look at him. "He always was that, I think, but now he is also half-starved and crazed. I would not pay any attention to what he says."

Demeter opened her mouth to reply, but MacVitie never heard what she was about to say. He heard the Siamese tom mutter into his ear, "I am saving all of your lives," before an odd smell entered his nostrils and all went blank again.