The night sky was deep and obscured all traces of blood. After the brutal selections, only fifteen thousand prisoners remained in Coyote City. All potential resistance forces had been thoroughly wiped out during the indiscriminate three selections and two betrayals. The prisoners' wills had crumbled completely, leaving them with no courage to resist, like tamed turkeys.
At this moment, piles of bonfires were lit, and the faces of the survivors were full of fear and distrust as they curled up, lying between the camps watched over by warriors from each unit. They had nothing to eat, and no one spoke, as silent as the dead.
"Hmm, looks like they're almost tame. Let them starve for a night, and when we set out tomorrow, none will dare to escape. Even if they do, they won't have the strength. Then, one meal a day, just a few mouthfuls of grain—just enough to keep them from dying... I figure they can make it to Conical House City!"
