Tikki scratches the back of her neck, flicks her ears irritably, and abruptly comes to her feet. She’s restless, she can’t sleep. She can’t stand being trapped in this dull gray room anymore! It’s been hours and hours—at least a day. Thoughts of her cub keep coming to mind, and the voice from the ceiling is a plague, always returning, always droning. It speaks of killing and death and what a monster she is and what she deserves, and what she’s going to get in payment for her crimes. The message is very clear. She’s going to be held here and tortured with this noise, with her own unanswered questions, her doubts and uncertainties, until she’s driven insane.