—-
Wei could see the dark hand holding an organ that still beat faintly, giving off heat.
It throbbed slow but stubborn, as if it didn't yet know it had been torn from a body.
Chun had been such a bright girl.
The first time they met, she walked straight up to him and said hello.
Her face was red from the sun. She talked with a grin she couldn't hide, as if her whole heart was laid out where anyone could see it.
The first time she cooked, she brought him a roasted lamb leg.
"Try it. I made it," she said.
The scent of fat rose warm in the air.
Wei didn't know what to say then. He only took it.
His father stood beside him and gave him a small wink.
Wei thought it was just smoke in his eyes.
His mother tapped his arm and whispered, "Be good to your new friend…"
He nodded, confused.
Back then, he didn't even know what good was supposed to mean.
She liked hunting with him.
Not because she was weak, but because she ran fast and saw sharp. She always spotted the game first, catching its shadow before he did.
She never slowed him down.
A few times, she even shielded him from a charging herd.
She always said, "I've got thicker skin than you."
And then she would laugh at her own joke.
Wei remembered all of it.
But he no longer had the strength to think.
The organ trembled once in the undead-warrior's palm.
Like a girl's last breath.
Like her standing in the sunset, waving at him and saying, "See you tomorrow."
Wei's throat tightened, but no sound came out.
He felt he had lost something, lost something for good.
The girl's body lay on the cold ground, her face drained white.
Her hand still clenched the hunting knife he had given her.
The undead-warrior scratched his polished scalp with one hand and weighed the pulsing life in the other.
A hungry sort of "smile" crept across his face.
In Wei's eyes, the beating heart turned into a red flame.
A flame shivering in the wind.
With every second, the flame grew weaker.
The pulse seemed to reach for something, and failed to catch it.
The undead-warrior lifted the flame toward his mouth.
His jaw opened slowly, like an old wooden door that had never known oil.
Then he drew the red fire into himself.
Wei's pupils tightened.
When the red flame entered the warrior's body, black flames rush in from every side.
They wrapped, crushed, tore—
frozen beasts driven mad with hunger.
The red fire shook among them, a single, lonely spark.
Only then did Wei see it clearly:
Black flames clung to the warrior's belly, his shoulders, the crown of his skull.
Weak, but stubborn.
Rats that had lived too long in the gutter, vicious and hard to kill.
The warrior inhaled.
All the black fire collapsed inward at once.
Wei shut his eyes in pain.
For an instant, it felt like a blade cutting across his chest.
It wasn't fear.
It was the way the brute swallowed that red flame, crude as a hog chewing a flower.
Not even chewing, just gulp it down and grind the rest under his heel.
When he opened his eyes again, only a faint thread of red fire remained, almost invisible, dragged into the warrior's body.
The rest of the light-
the girl's laughter, her warmth, her courage,
rose like steam and vanished into the air, beyond reach.
The world turned suddenly, brutally cold.
The warrior grabbed Wei's fallen body with one hand and called out to someone nearby.
Another warrior rose from the grass, scanning the dark with wary eyes.
Only after checking everything did the two of them turn away.
The next moment, Wei screamed, or thought he screamed, and then everything went dark.
------------
When Wei woke again, he found himself lying beside a heap of dry grass.The stalks poked into his back, itching his skin, but he didn't have the strength to move away.
Boys were packed around him.Their shoulder blades were sharp under their shirts, rising and falling with each breath.No one spoke.No one looked at him.
The air was warm and wet, thick with the smell of grass, sweat, and the night's damp settling in.Every breath felt like it came from someone else's lungs, squeezed out and handed to him.
He rolled a little and saw a thin line of blue sky through a crack in the roof boards.The light was narrow, but it cut across his chest like a blade.
Someone dropped a bucket onto the floor.It hit with a heavy, dull thud.
The boys rushed over, grabbing wooden plates and forming a line.A black, glue-thick paste was scooped into each plate.
No one said a word.Only the soft clack of wood hitting the ground moved through the room.
Wei's hand slid quietly into the grass beneath him.His fingers found a pointed stick, and he clamped down on it.The wood was cold and rough.It scraped his skin.
His knuckles turned white.His fingertips went numb.He held on, his arm trembling.
He lay there like a stone dropped into a well. It was heavy, sinking, unable to move.
A wooden plate was suddenly held out in front of him.The hand holding it was pale and fine-boned, almost like a girl's hand.
Wei didn't reach for it.He didn't move.
His stomach twisted, but it wasn't hunger.It was emptiness, so deep that even pain felt thin.
A thought came to him, cold and slow:If he died now, nothing would change.
The thought slid up from somewhere inside him like a small cold snake.He didn't push it away.He wasn't sure he had the strength to be afraid anymore.
The boy across from him let out a quiet sigh and set the plate down in front of Wei.
"You'd better eat while you still can," the boy said, chewing as he spoke."Later… you might not even have the strength to do that."
His mouth kept working, but his eyes flicked at Wei—sharp and painful, like a splinter sliding under the skin.
Wei understood what the boy was thinking.
How long can he last?Will he be the next one to fall?