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... to wait. There would be rats for the bodies, he knew it. He’d seen it happen often enough, the rats swarming the bodies of deceased prisoners. They ate no better than the prisoners—no, worse, because they got the scraps the prisoners left behind. The beasts were starving, and fresh meat was fresh meat.

They came. Slowly, quietly. First one rat, darting out of the darkness to nibble at the guard’s ear. Then another, this one bold enough to try the eyes. Then another, and another, and anot ...

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