Red Feline's faint moans were not louder than her breathing. The loudest sound in the room was the cry of the whip against her flesh.

The Man in Black tried to make her scream, her apparent silence made him more violent. The more he hit her, the more she hid her cries. That was always the case in her games, so that was the case now. It was a test of endurance, of defiance. And it had to do with pride.

She had taken so much that now it didn't matter. She would not cry out her pain. She had the same pride that carried Piroska through her lashing and crucifixion under the rain.

A sudden pain on her leg made her rock back. A warm feeling, in total contrast with the rough wood, was becoming apparent to her, it was on her leg, it was liquid. "I'm pissing.", she thought for a moment, the whip striking her leg again made her forget those thoughts.

A series of fast lashes made Red Feline move even more on top of the wooden horse, the liquid sensation below her was now more intense, she was bleeding, the wood had cut through her lips. She was more aware of her pain below, the whip was a caress.

She was burning inside, her flesh was open and exposed. She knew that soon the dark was going to win over the pain, she anticipated the moment. Her faint moans were over, even the sound of the whip was faint now. She let go, her arms abandoned her and her body just slumped on the horse. The sharp, burning pain was mercifully replaced by a numbness on her legs, her groin, her arms.

As she merged into darkness, Red Feline saw Piroska hanging still, no longer struggling, her head down, her hair covering her face. Her body was totally stretched as her feet lost their support. The sun was rising and a cold wind was embracing her naked and tortured body.

People began to emerge from the inside of the palace. A few soldiers and a group of slaves, amongst them Piroska's aunt who began to scream at the sight of her niece hanging from the cross.

The whip fell on Red Feline and she felt the sting of the lash even as her mind was far beyond her present. She was surrounded by the sweet smell of her sweat and blood.

As her body began to lose sensation she became aware of smells and sounds. The creaking of the wood as it rocked under the weight of her body, the whistling of the whip cutting the air before carving her skin.

She could even hear her skin opening up to the whip.

Then nothing, just the black shroud of a dreamless sleep. Her head slumped down. The torturer kept striking her but there was no response, no cry, no movement.

She was soaring over her own body, past the dark walls of the room, and over the palace's yard where Piroska was still hanging from her cross, her head down, her mind gone, her beaten body wet with her sweat and her blood and the rain.

At the feet of her cross, Piroska's aunt was crying, touching her feet, kissing her legs. Two soldiers grabbed her and took her away where a group of slave women, mostly young, watched in horror the scene in front of them.

The Governor appeared, his face in bandages, a dark look in his eyes.

The Man in Black looked at the bloodied horse, he could smell Red Feline's blood, her sweat, his sweat.  His clothes were stained with blood. He began to feel nauseated. 

Unconvinced, he kept striking her. The only response was the echo of the whip crashing against the soft flesh and nothing more. Her breathing was so soft that he thought she wasn't breathing anymore. He lashed her one last time, hitting her nipple and the nail.

She didn't move. He lowered the whip, there was no more energy in him. She was still there, defiant in her sleep, perhaps smiling inside.

He reached for her. She was unconscious, he knew, he just wanted to make sure. She had taken so much so far, that he felt that maybe she was gone .

He approached her slowly, hesitating. He grabbed her by her hair and lifted her head, he looked at her closed eyes, her mouth moving slowly, betraying breathing, however faint, however slow, still breathing, a sign of life and struggle, a sign of triumph over death, over him.

He let her head down again.  He walked away, leaving her mounted on the horse, "I will return", he thought as he stepped away, hearing the soft breathing of his stubborn victim.

Red Feline saw her body, her face through his eyes, she had won, she was aware of it all the time, aware of his foul breath near her face, aware of the oily hands holding her hair, aware of the rancid smell of his sweat. He was tired, so she had won. As his steps grew fainter, she let nothingness finally embrace her.

She became fully conscious of that strange terrain where she stood in front of Piroska's cross, seeing her through her aunt's eyes. A horrifying sight. Her naked body covered in lashes, stretched down the post, her arms tense, her head down, her hair wet. A stillness that spoke of death.

The young slaves around her were crying, the soldiers looked mournful. The Governor was as decided as ever. His obsession wasn't over. "Take her down", he ordered and two soldiers went to the cross to comply with the order.

Red Feline saw a soldier cut with his sword the rope on Piroska's ankles while another released the rope that held the timber up.

As Piroska's body was lowered, Red Feline heard the faint steps of the Man in Black approaching.