Koro stood in the middle of the room, and his eyes were just fixed on that pile of bodies.

  It was literally a mountain of his friends.

  He could see the fur and the clothes of people he'd shared bread with for years. His breathing was heavy, and it sounded like a broken bellows.

  "I'll kill you all," Koro growled.

  He wasn't even shouting.

  It was a low, scary sound.

  The Gunslinger adjusted his cowboy hat and looked at the wolves.

  "Calm down, big guy. If you lose your head, you're dead. I'll take the big dog outside. You handle these idiots and get that turtle."

  Koro didn't want to listen, but he knew he couldn't fight everyone at once. He just nodded. The Gunslinger looked at the wolf leader and pointed his gun right at his head.

  "Outside, now. Or I start shooting until this room is just a red stain."

  The leader wolf looked at that golden crest on the cat's chest and spit on the floor. He didn't want to risk his life in a tight room.

  "Fine. Let's go."

  As soon as they walked out, the other wolves didn't wait.

  They charged at Koro with spears and knives. Koro let out a roar and swung his massive fist. He hit one wolf so hard the guy's jaw literally turned to dust.

  But there were so many. They were stabbing at his legs and his back. It hurt, actually. It hurt a lot.

  I have to kill him! I have to kill Horg! Everything is burning because of him....!

  But, Old Horg saw his chance.

  He scrambled toward the door, his heavy shell bumping against the bone-walls. Koro saw him and pushed three wolves off his shoulders, stumbling out into the snow.

  Outside was a mess.

  The wind was howling, and the smoke from the fires made it hard to see. Koro saw Horg running to the left. The Gunslinger and the leader were off to the right, already starting their own fight.

  Koro tried to run, but the wolves from the army outside swarmed him.

  They were stabbing him in the arms and the stomach.

  Blood was staining his fur, making it clump together in the cold. He was throwing them off, tossing them like bags of grain, but he was getting tired.

  He was losing too much blood.

  "You're just a trash animal, Koro!" Horg yelled from a distance. He was running toward a ridge, his little legs moving as fast as they could.

  "You were born in the dirt and you'll die in the snow! I'm the only one who's going to make it out!"

  Koro felt a wave of rage so hot it actually made the snow around his feet melt.

  He's going to get away. After everything he did.... After selling us out like we were nothing... I CAN'T LET HIM LEAVE! I'LL HAVE TO KILL HIM, COLD BLOOD!

  Koro tried to take a step, but a wolf stabbed a spear into his calf. He fell to one knee, gasping for air. He looked at Horg, who was getting smaller and smaller in the white distance.

  Please... just one more minute. Let me just get my hands on him once...

  He looked up, his four eyes blurry with tears and blood. He saw the wolves closing in on him, their teeth bared. He felt like he was failing again. He was too slow. He was always too slow.

  "HORG!" he screamed, but his voice was drowned out by the wind.

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

  Sissy felt the wind biting at her wings, but she didn't care. She pushed herself harder, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

  Her eyes were literally turning red from the strain and the cold. Then, she saw it. The black smoke was rising like a tall, ugly pillar against the sky.

  Please, no. Please let them be okay, she thought, her vision blurring.

  As she got closer, her heart just sank. The base---her home---was wide open. It was exposed to the world like a wound.

  She saw Koro on the ground, surrounded by tens of wolves who were stabbing at him. Further off, that cat in the cowboy hat was locked in a brutal fight with the leader.

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  What the hell happened here? How did they find us?

  She didn't stop to think. She tucked her wings and became a blur of motion. She hit the group of wolves surrounding Koro like a cannonball.

  BAM!

  The impact sent wolves flying in every direction, their bodies hitting the snow with heavy thuds.

  Koro looked up, his face covered in blood, and he didn't even look surprised.

  He just stood up and started swinging his fists, punching the wolves so hard they passed out instantly. He looked like a demon, just pure rage in motion.

  "Koro! What's happening?" Sissy screamed over the wind.

  Koro let out a loud, gut-wrenching groan. He looked at her with his four eyes, and they were full of such pure hate it made her flinch.

  "They're dead...Everyone's dead..."

  "What!?"

  The word felt like a physical punch to her stomach. She turned and ran toward the entrance of the base. She pushed past the broken doors and stopped dead.

  The smell hit her first.

  Then she saw it.

  A mountain of bodies.

  Her friends.

  The rabbit-kin she used to trade berries with.

  The old goat who told stories by the fire.

  They were just... piles of meat now, burning in the middle of the hall while the fires licked at the ceiling.

  This was my home, she thought. Her legs felt like they were made of water. We lived here for centuries. We survived everything... just for this?

  She saw more wolves coming down the stairs, their blades dripping. She didn't even think. She just flew at them, a whirlwind of grief and anger.

  She knocked them down, slamming them into the bone-walls, but one of them managed to drive a dagger deep into her shoulder.

  She didn't even scream.

  She just finished him and kept moving.

  She reached the top of the stairs, her breath coming in ragged gasps. In front of her was the heavy marrow-door to the leader's office.

  "Old man!" she screamed, pounding on the door with her good hand.

  "Crysorgo! Open up! Please!"

  She kept hitting the door until her knuckles were bleeding.

  "Don't be dead! Please, you can't be dead too!"

  The hallway was silent for a long, terrifying moment. Then, the heavy lock clicked. The door creaked open slowly.

  Sissy stumbled inside and her heart broke all over again.

  Crysorgo Aizzovac was sitting in his chair, but he wasn't the proud leader she remembered.

  He was slumped over, bleeding from half a dozen deep wounds. His white fur was stained almost entirely red.

  But he wasn't alone. Huddled in the corners of the room, trembling and crying, were tens of the youngest children of the Leftovers.

  He had pulled them all in here.

  He had used his own body as a shield to keep the door shut.

  "Sissy..." he whispered, his voice as thin as paper.

  He had done his best. He had saved the only future they had left.

  Sissy's legs finally gave out. she fell to the ground, her wings drooping in the blood on the floor. She crawled to his side and wrapped her arms around his cold, lifeless body, sobbing into his chest.

  The children began to wail, their small voices filling the room with a sound so sad it felt like the mountain itself was crying.

  The blood was literally dripping from Koro's knuckles, staining the white snow a dark, ugly red. He didn't even feel the cold anymore. His four eyes were locked onto that brown shell bobbing in the distance.

  "Horg!" Koro screamed, and the sound was so loud it actually felt like it shook the mountain.

  "I'm going to rip you apart!"

  Old Horg didn't stop. He was huffing, his short legs kicking up snow.

  "You're too slow, you stupid beast! Just die with the rest of the trash!"

  Koro pushed himself. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a drum.

  I remember when I first got here, Koro thought. Horg was the one who gave me a blanket. He was actually kind back then. He told me we were a family of the forgotten. He was the one who taught me how to find water in the bone-walls. How did that person become this monster?

  The vicissitude of the old man's soul was something Koro couldn't understand. He just wanted it to end.

  With a final, desperate burst of speed, Koro lunged. He grabbed the edge of Horg's shell.

  The weight of them both sent them tumbling into the snow, rolling until they hit a jagged rock. Horg scrambled, trying to get his footing.

  "Wait! Koro, wait!" Horg shrieked, his voice high and thin.

  "I had to do it! They would have killed me too! We can still leave together!"

  Koro didn't say a word. He reached out and snatched Horg by the leg. He pulled him back with a jerk that made the old man's joints pop.

  Koro flipped him over and slammed him into the ground, sitting on his chest with all his massive weight.

  "Please! I'm old! Don't do this!"

  Koro's response was a fist.

  He punched Horg right in the mouth. The sound was a wet, heavy thud. Horg's head snapped back, and blood immediately sprayed from his nose, painting the snow red.

  This is for the children you left to die, Koro thought.

  He punched him again.

  And again.

  Horg's face was becoming a mess of purple and red. The old man was sobbing now, his hands weakly trying to push Koro's chest away.

  "P-please... mercy..." Horg wheezed. He could barely get the words out through his broken teeth.

  Koro looked down at him. His own face was twisted in a look of profound sadness, even while his hands were doing something so brutal.

  He saw a large rock sitting right next to them. It was heavy and sharp. He reached down and hoisted it over his head with both hands.

  Horg's eyes went wide. He tried to scream, but only a gurgle came out. The terror in his eyes was so thick you could almost taste it.

  Koro drove the rock down with everything he had.

  It didn't hit Horg's head.

  It hit his throat.

  There was a sickening crack of bone and cartilage. Horg's hands flew to his neck, his fingers clawing at the stone.

  He tried to speak, to beg, to breathe, but only a thick, dark fountain of blood came out of his mouth. He was choking on his own betrayal.

  "You sold Sissy," Koro growled.

  He lifted the rock again.

  "You sold Old Man Crysorgo."

  He slammed it down again.

  More blood.

  The snow under them was a literal lake of red now. Koro didn't stop. He kept lifting the rock and slamming it down, over and over. He shouted out the names of the people who had been killed in the hall.

  Every strike was a name.

  Every strike was a life Horg had traded away.

  Horg's body was twitching, his eyes rolling back in his head, but the old tortoise was stubborn. He was still clinging to life, his chest heaving in tiny, wet gasps.

  Just die already, Koro thought, his arms shaking from the effort. End this.

  Koro lifted the rock one last time.

  He put every bit of his grief, his exhaustion, and his hate into the swing. He brought it down with a final, crushing blow.

  The twitching stopped.

  The wet sounds stopped.

  Horg was finally dead.

  Koro let go of the rock and slumped backward, falling into the cold snow next to the corpse.

  He didn't feel like a hero.

  He just felt empty.

  He looked up at the gray sky, watching the snowflakes fall slowly toward his face.

  It's over, he thought. But there's nobody left to tell.