The wind screamed past his ears as they plummeted. Lemony looked down, and for a second, the height made his stomach turn.

  This was it. This was the end the Kingdom wanted for him.

  He looked at Sissy, who was still limp, falling beside him like a broken doll. For the first time, the emptiness in him was replaced by a frantic, burning need to do something. He wasn't going to let her die just because he was a nobody.

  He brought his bound hands to his face. He didn't have a knife, so he used his teeth. He bit into the thick hemp rope so hard he felt his teeth groan and nearly shatter. Blood filled his mouth, but the fibers finally snapped.

  His hands were free.

  He scrambled in mid-air, grabbing Sissy and pulling her close. He fumbled with the buttons of his red coat, ripping it off despite the freezing air. It was a thin piece of cloth, but it was all he had. He wrapped it around her as tight as he could, tucking her head against his chest. It wouldn't stop the gravity, but maybe, just maybe, it would keep her from breaking apart.

  Then, he twisted his body. He made sure he was on the bottom. He was going to be the cushion.

  He was a Pale-Mantle Manul.

  He was trash, weak, and disposable.

  If one of them had to be crushed by the earth, it was going to be him.

  He saw the ground coming. It wasn't soft snow. It was jagged rocks and frozen bone shards. Lemony closed his eyes, held Sissy tighter, and braced for the end.

  CRACK.

  The sound was sickening. They hit a sloped ledge of rock and tumbled, ragdolling across the sharp terrain. Lemony felt his ribs snap, his lungs collapse, and a white-hot flash of pain before everything went numb. They skidded for thirty feet until they finally came to a stop in a pile of red-stained snow.

  The impact was too much. Lemony's heart gave a final, weak thud and then stopped. He lay there, twisted and still, his eyes half-open and staring at nothing.

  But the plan had worked, at least a little. The shock of the tumble and the sudden cold air hitting her skin jolted Sissy awake. She gasped, coughing up a mouthful of blood. Every inch of her body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder.

  She tried to move, her fingers clawing at the red fabric covering her. She realized it was Lemony's red coat.

  "Lemony...?" she croaked.

  She rolled over, clutching her side, and saw him lying a few feet away. He wasn't moving. He wasn't even breathing. There was so much blood on the rocks beneath him that it turned the snow into a dark, steaming puddle.

  Sissy dragged herself toward him, her legs trailing uselessly behind her. She reached out a trembling hand and touched his cold cheek.

  "Lemony! Wake up! Come on, you grumpy cat... wake up!" she sobbed.

  "I have to save him... I have to..."

  She looked around the bottom of the abyss, desperate for anything. But they were in the deepest part of the Peak, the place where even the light didn't like to go.

  Sissy gripped the collar of Lemony's shirt.

  Her hands were raw and shaking, but she didn't let go. She started to crawl, pulling his weight behind her. Every inch she moved felt like a knife was being twisted in her gut.

  Behind them, a long, dark trail stained the snow. It was a mix of her blood and his. It looked like a gruesome path leading nowhere.

  "Please... Just something. Anything. A cave... a person... just help us."

  She knew Lemony was dead. His body was cold, and he was as heavy as a bag of stones. But she couldn't just leave him there in the middle of the dark. He had used himself as a shield for her. He had bitten through rope until his mouth bled just to give her a chance.

  She couldn't let that be for nothing.

  Hour after hour, she dragged him.

  The wind at the bottom of the canyon was different than the top. It felt like the air itself was mocking her. Her vision started to blur, turning the white snow into a gray, fuzzy mess. Her fingers were so numb she couldn't even feel the fabric she was holding anymore.

  She kept going until her muscles literally gave out. Her arms buckled, and her face slammed into the freezing slush. She tried to push herself up, but her strength was gone.

  She was done.

  "I can't," she sobbed, the tears freezing on her cheeks instantly.

  "I'm sorry, Lemony. I can't move anymore."

  She looked around one last time. There was nothing but jagged bones and endless shadows.

  The hope she had been clinging to finally snapped.

  She let her head rest against Lemony's shoulder and closed her eyes, waiting for the cold to finish what the wolves started.

  ----------------------------------------------------------

  Lemony was once a normal kid. At least, as normal as you can be when your parents look at you like a piece of fruit.

  He could still see the scene in his head. His mother and father were laughing while they handed him over to a merchant.

  In exchange, they got a crate of lemons.

  They didn't even need the lemons for food.

  He heard them saying something about using the rinds for a local play or some festival decorations. That was all his life was worth to them. They had sold his older siblings too. It was just what they did.

  His life after that was just a long list of bad memories.

  He remembered a guard slashing his ear with a blade just because he wasn't cleaning fast enough.

  He remembered the deep cuts on his face from when the Master was in a bad mood.

  At first, Lemony would beg. He would cry and ask why it was happening. But after a few years, the tears just stopped coming.

  He stopped asking why.

  He became an empty shell because that was the only way to survive the days. If you don't feel anything, it doesn't hurt when someone hits you.

  When he saw the Master's son arguing with that strange creature, he didn't think much of it. When they blamed him for the murder, he didn't fight back. He didn't care. He figured he was just moving from one cage to another.

  But now, standing in this weird black realm after the fall, he finally had an answer to Sissy's question.

  Had he even lived before?

  No. He hadn't.

  He realized that his whole life had been spent waiting for the end. But in those few seconds while they were falling through the air, he actually felt something.

  When he bit through that rope and wrapped his coat around Sissy, he felt alive for the first time in his existence. Saving her was the only thing he had ever done because he wanted to do it, not because he was told to.

  That one moment of choice was worth more than ten years of labor in the Pamon mansion.

  He looked around the darkness. He felt lonely. He didn't even feel like a creature anymore. He was just a thought floating in a void.

  The emptiness he always carried wasn't actually who he was.

  It was just a shield.

  He had built a wall of nothingness around himself so the world couldn't get in.

  But now that he was dead, or whatever this place was, the wall was starting to crumble.

  He wasn't a lemon.

  He wasn't a tool.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  He was just a person who wanted to stay alive.

  In that black void, Lemony stood alone. For the first time, he didn't have to work. He didn't have to dodge a blow.

  He thought about the crate of lemons. He wondered if they were sweet. He wondered if his parents smiled when they tasted them.

  "Was I at least delicious?" he whispered to the dark.

  "Was the play good? Was the part of my life they traded away worth the look on their faces?"

  He looked at his hands. They were small.

  "Please..."

  "I don't want to be a machine. I don't want to be empty. Just let me feel one thing. Even if it's just the hate to my parents. I just want to feel again."

  He thought of Sissy. She was the only one who had ever asked him if he was okay, even if she was just yelling at him.

  "To Sissy, I hope the coat kept her safe," he muttered.

  "It's the only thing I ever truly owned."

  ----------------------------------------------------------

  Back at the base, the heavy bone doors groaned open. Koro and Ve stepped inside, shaking the thick snow off their fur. They were exhausted, their muscles aching from burying the massive bodies of the fallen.

  "Where is everyone?" Koro growled, looking around the quiet hall.

  "Horg and the kids should have been back hours ago."

  Crysorgo walked out of his office, his wooden staff clicking against the bone floor.

  "They aren't back. I thought they were with you."

  The air in the room got cold. Just as Ve was about to head back out, the door creaked open again. Old Horg stumbled in. He was limping, clutching his shoulder where the arrow had grazed him. He looked pathetic and terrified.

  "Horg!" Ve shouted, running over.

  "Where are the others? Where's Sissy and the kit?"

  Horg collapsed onto a bench, gasping for air. "They're gone," he wheezed.

  "The Scavengers... came out of nowhere. And Sissy and the cat... got pinned down. I tried to help, I swear I did, but they were swarmed. I barely made it out alive."

  "Caught?" Koro's voice was like thunder. He grabbed Horg by the collar, lifting the tortoise-man off the bench.

  "You left her? You left Sissy!?"

  Around the room, the other survivors stopped what they were doing. A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the hall. Then, the sound of a woman sobbing broke the quiet. Sissy was the heart of the Leftovers.

  She was the one who brought them food, the one who told jokes when the Malphas shook the earth.

  "She's a scout! "How did they catch her?!" Koro yelled, his fur standing on end.

  "The cat was reckless! He drew them right to us!" Horg cried, faking a sob.

  Crysorgo didn't say anything.

  He didn't yell. He just turned around, his shoulders hunched, and walked back toward his office. His face looked like it had aged another fifty years in a single second.

  "Everyone, go to your quarters. There's nothing we can do tonigh," the old sheep said quietly.

  As the crowd dispersed in mourning, Horg sat in the corner, wiping his eyes.

  I managed to lie! he thought, his heart racing. If they knew I led them to her, they'd peel me out of my shell. I'm safe. That's all that matters.

  ----------------------------------------------------------

  Inside the office, Koro slammed his fist onto Crysorgo's desk. "We're going after them! We can't just sit here!"

  "Sit down, Koro," Crysorgo said. He was staring at a half-eaten carrot like he couldn't remember what it was for.

  "She's our family! You're just going to let the wolves have her?" Koro's four eyes were bloodshot with rage.

  "And what will you do?" Crysorgo looked up, his eyes dead.

  "March into Fort Rib with a shovel? You'll die. Ve will die. And then who will protect the fifty people hiding in these walls? Sissy was our only viable scout. We all knew this day was coming. We are the Leftovers, Koro. We are the people the world forgot. When a piece of trash gets picked up by the wind, you don't chase it. You just wait for the next breeze."

  Koro's breath hitched. He slumped into a chair, his massive frame looking small.

  "It's not fair. She was the only one who still had the energy."

  "Fair stopped existing for us a long time ago," Crysorgo whispered.

  Koro stared at the floor for a long time. Finally, he asked the question everyone was thinking.

  "When will we even leave this place, Sir? Or are we all just waiting for our turn to be 'caught'?"

  Crysorgo didn't answer. He just watched the candle on his desk flicker and die.

  The room fell into a heavy silence. Crysorgo stared at the wall, his eyes looking at something far away in the past.

  "Did you know that there were two people who actually escaped this place?" Crysorgo asked. His voice was barely a whisper.

  Koro blinked, his four eyes widening.

  "What? You're joking. No one gets out of the Peak. The portal only goes one way."

  "Two people did. Sissy's older sister, Cutie. and my brother, Lukerion."

  Koro stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the bone floor.

  "How come I never heard about this? I've been here for years! Why haven't we used whatever tactic they used to get the rest of us out?"

  Crysorgo sighed, the sound rattling in his chest.

  "Because we don't actually know how they did it. Or if they're even alive. Only Sissy and I know the truth."

  He leaned back, rubbing his tired face.

  "Decades ago, when Sissy was just a tiny thing, she and Cutie were tossed into this portal as slaves. Just kids. My brother and I found them. We took care of them. Back then, this hideout wasn't a village. It was just a small hole in a rib, barely big enough for the four of us. We were like a family."

  Koro calmed down a bit, listening intently.

  "We built this place together," Crysorgo continued.

  "But Lukerion was restless. He couldn't stand the idea of dying in a giant's ribcage. He asked, 'Why don't we just leave the mountain?' I told him he was crazy. It's too high, and the winds are like knives. But Cutie... she was different. Even back then, she was a better scout than Sissy is now. She was strong. She said she could fight the winds and carry Lukerion down to the bottom."

  "And they just... jumped?" Koro asked.

  "They tried. Sissy and I watched from the ledge. We saw them dive into the gray. But then, the Scavengers spotted them. We saw the arrows, the lights, and the chase. They disappeared into a blizzard, and we never saw them again."

  Crysorgo looked at his shaking hands.

  "Sissy hasn't stopped looking for a way down ever since. She thinks if she can just get to the bottom, she'll find them waiting. That's why she was so obsessed with the portal. She wasn't just looking for a way home. She was looking for her sister."

  Koro sat back down, his anger replaced by a dull ache. "That's a long time to hold onto hope."

  "It's the only thing that keeps her wings moving," Crysorgo said. He stood up and walked to the small window, looking out at the dark mountain.

  "Our goal was always to leave this place and find our siblings. But now..."

  He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. With Sissy gone, that hope felt like it had finally frozen solid.

  "But to answer your question, Koro, I'm not sure myself. I don't think I'll ever leave this place. I've been a burden to everyone for too long."

  Koro stood up, his massive shadow covering the old sheep.

  "So that's it? You're just giving us hope to keep us quiet?"

  "No. You're the reason we're still breathing. You're leaving this mountain, Sir, even if I have to carry you on my back the whole way down."

  Crysorgo gave a small, tired smile. It was the first bit of light Koro had seen in his eyes for a long time.

  Koro left the office and went straight to his own room, but he wasn't going to sleep. He couldn't. A century was too long for anyone to be a leftover. He sat at his small desk and started scratching a rough map onto a piece of dried leather. He wasn't doing this for himself. He was doing it for the people sleeping in the bones around him.

  He sent a message for Ve. A few minutes later, the blue-furred wolf slipped into the room.

  "I'm going to Fort Rib," Koro said, not looking up from his map. "You stay here and defend the people. If I don't come back, you're the leader."

  Ve blinked, his tail twitching in confusion.

  "Alone!? You're a very big target! You won't even make it past the front gate. I'm coming with you. The others can hold this place down for a few days."

  "No," Koro growled. "It's too dangerous."

  "Which is exactly why you need me!" Ve argued.

  "You have the strength, but I have the speed. You'll be dead in an hour without—"

  "Shhh."

  A soft, sharp voice cut through their arguing. Both of them spun around. Sitting on a stack of crates in the corner was a tiny creature.

  He was a Pygmy-Jera, a species that looked like a cross between a jerboa and a tiny fox. He had oversized, tufted ears, a long springy tail, and fur the color of desert sand. He wore a pair of cracked goggles around his neck and held a small piece of glowing chalk.

  "You're Pippin!" Koro said.

  "Why are you here? You're supposed to be in the library."

  Ve tilted his head. "Who is this kid? He looks like he'd blow away in a light breeze."

  "He's the smartest person in this whole rib," Koro whispered. "He's the one who mapped the internal heat vents of this entire rib. The reason why can even live in this type of ancient rib."

  Pippin hopped down from the crates, landing without a sound.

  "I heard 'Fort Rib' and 'leaving.' I want to join."

  "Join!?" Ve nearly shouted.

  "You're the size of a loaf of bread! What are you going to do, trip the wolves with your tail?"

  "I want to go outside!" Pippin squeaked.

  "I've spent my whole life staring at bone-walls and reading books about a world I've never seen. I can disable their perimeter alarms and lighthouses in seconds. You won't even get to the door without me."

  Ve looked at the tiny creature, then at Koro, then back at Pippin. He looked completely lost.

  "This is a joke, right? We're taking the librarian to a fortress?"

  Koro looked at the map, then at the two of them. A heavy-hitter, a scout, and a genius. It was the best chance they had.

  "How about the three of us head to Fort Rib together?"

  Ve threw his hands up in the air.

  "Fine! Great! Let's bring the whole circus! Why not invite a Scavenger while we're at it?"

  He took a deep breath and calmed down, his ears flattening. "Alright... I calmed down. When do we go?"

  "We need three days."

  "Three days to gather supplies, sharpen blades, and for Pippin to pack whatever tools he needs. We leave at midnight on the third night."