Alika’s blood felt like it had turned to ice. For a moment, she was frozen to the snow, hoping that she’d just imagined it.

“No! No!” Snow cried. “No no no! It can’t be him!”

Alika shuddered. Snow had heard it too.

“He’s dead!” Snow shouted at Alika. “He has to be! We sunk him to the bottom of the ocean!”

“Undying,” Alika whispered. “Gust said that the Crimson Counts were undying.”

“What does that mean?” Snow growled. “What does that mean?!”

The blotch in the mists kept on moving. Not directly toward them, but slightly to the east — toward the pack.

“Gust,” Alika said. “He’s going after Gust. Tarka’s there with him.”

“Excuse me, what’s going on?” Urka scratched at his ears with a paw. “Is something happening?”

“The pack is under attack!” Alika shouted. She pointed a wing into the mists. Tshav’s long, serpentine outline was now visible within it, hints of red on his scales. “We need to get back, now!”

“We’re hunting, not on patrol,” Urka mumbled.

“Screw that!” Snow hissed.

“Snow, get on!” Alika lowered her body and twisted around. Snow leaped between her wings. Alika ignored the illusion telling her that Snow weighed as much as her, and began to sprint across the snow, heart pounding as Tshav’s scorched body streaked through the sky.

“How—” Urka started, bewildered.

“Fly to the pack!” Alika ordered. “Warn them that they’re in danger!”

As Urka took off, Alika ran, Snow on her back. How had he gotten out of the ocean? How had he found them when they had come so far?

Questions of how didn’t matter, not anymore. Now, all that mattered was saving Gust and Tarka, and stopping Tshav for good.

By the time that Alika and Snow got back to the pack, Tshav was already there, and carnage had already been done.

Though Alika found it unlikely that the pack had been defending Gust intentionally, they’d done a good job at it. He and Tarka stood huddled with the other cubs, peeking over the snowdrift — though the barrier wouldn’t hold Tshav for long. Urka had gotten there before them, and was attending to Omerka, who was unmoving, laying still on a pile of red-stained snow.

Kurka and the other two adults were facing off against Tshav, positioned between him and the hatchlings, their fur covered in bloody scratches. The Crimson Count himself looked worse for wear — in addition to the old injuries that Alika and Yarik had given him, he was now missing the leg that Tarka had tied the anchor to, a bloody stump left behind. Fresh burns covered his scales, but had done little to slow him down.

Snow jumped from Alika’s back, shaking and cowering before Tshav. Alika had forgotten how big the dragon was — almost as large as Kurka by size, if not by weight.

“Why won’t this monster die?” Kurka roared, swiping her paw down at Tshav’s skull. There was a shattering of bone as Kurka struck Tshav’s jaws, but Tshav didn’t seem to notice. His talons raked Kurka’s neck as he tried to squirm past. “Alika! Snowka! Get with the other cubs!”

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“You can’t kill him!” Alika shouted, scanning for Tarka among the cubs. He seemed safe and unscratched, as was Gust. “He’s undying!”

“You know this thing?” Kurka snarled. She wrapped her forelegs around Tshav, holding him tight as he tried to slip out from her grasp. His claws scratched at her back, ripping through her hide. The two smaller adults rushed to bite at his side, continuously getting whacked in the snouts by Tshav’s whipping tail.

“He chased us across the Great Sea, but we tied a rock to his leg and dropped him down,” Alika said. “We’d thought we’d been rid of him!”

“That leg?” Kurka growled, trying to wrestle Tshav to the ground. “The one that’s missing?”

“Yeah.” Alika winced.

“Tshav!” With a screech, Tshav suddenly jolted forward, knocking Kurka off her hindlegs. With a grunt, her back slammed to the ground, throwing up snow from where she fell. With no hesitation, Kurka grabbed Tshav with her hindlegs as well, trying to keep him from getting out of her grasp.

“Stop it!” Kurka roared. “It’s after our cubs!”

The two adults ran in front of Tshav, grabbing ahold of his snout and trying to keep him back. His fangs sunk into their hides, while his talons slammed into Kurka’s throat and underbelly.

Kurka groaned in agony as his talons tore into her, crimson blood pouring from her gruesome wounds.

Alika stared in horror. A lifetime ago, wolves had sunk their fangs and claws into her mother’s underbelly, and Alika did nothing but hide beneath her mother’s wings.

She wouldn’t let her grandmother die the same way.

Alika sprinted across the snow, claws outstretched, wings open wide. She leaped, sending all of her weight into Tshav’s side.

Her talons landed on slippery scales and pierced into flesh. Tshav rolled off of Kurka, his hindleg catching on Alika’s tail. Alika felt agonizing pain as his talons ripped into it, tearing through skin and flesh with east.

“Alika, stop!” Snow called out, though Alika could barely hear. Tshav’s writhing body slammed her into the snow, pinning her tail beneath his talons. Alika felt talons around her skull, scales on her snout, weight crushing her throat. If this was the end, then at least she had died for a good cause. Tarka would be alright. Now, he had a pack.

Then, suddenly, it was gone. Alika gasped for breath, groaning as Tshav removed his talons from her tail.

“Over here, you overgrown weasel!” Snow shouted. “Look at me! That’s right, it’s me you want! Not her!”

Alika lifted her head, her neck still in agony. Tshav had gotten off her, and was turning toward Snow — who had taken on the image of Gust.

“Snow!” Alika coughed, reaching her paw out as Tshav rushed toward Snow. “Don’t!”

Snow grinned, waving her turquoise tail tuft, taunting Tshav.

“Now!” Kurka roared.

All at once, the adults attacked. The two that had been at Kurka’s side grabbed onto each of Tshav’s forelegs, singing their claws beneath his scales. Kurka leaped down onto Tshav’s spine with all her weight, a horrendous crack spurting through the air as she landed.

Though Tshav squirmed, screeching as he clawed at Snow, the pack held on tight. Kurka’s forepaws slammed behind his antlers, at the base of her neck. Her claws wrapped tight around it, and with a battlecry so loud it shook the snow, she pulled upward with all her strength, digging her hindlegs into the ground.

There was a resounding pop, and Alika gagged as Kurka tore Tshav’s head from his body. Though the rest of him immediately went limp, the head kept screeching and snapping at Snow, unable to die.

Kurka lifted the bloody, still-moving trophy up by its antlers, letting out a resounding victory roar. She opened her jaws, and a torrent of flame came loose. The scales of Tshav’s head melted away, flesh turned to ash, until all that was left was a silent, unmoving skull.

The Crimson Count’s shattered jawbone clattered to the ground.

The other pack members joined Kurka’s victory roar. Tshav had been destroyed, and for a moment, Alika felt the pride of the pack within her. They’d done it. All together, they’d done it.

And then, Kurka turned to Snow, still disguised as Gust.

“You,” Kurka snarled, blood dripping from her jaws.