Introduction:

Hi everyone, I'm The Cool Kat. Everyone who has ever written fanfiction has a story that was their favorite one to write. This one is one of mine, because this story and I, we go way back.

It all started in December 2011. Most of you guys will remember that time as the month "Kung Fu Panda 2" was released on DVD in time for Christmas. I remember it as the time I was sitting on my butt, trying to work around a bad case of writer's block and failing miserably. During the fall months I had just written my first two fics "Salvation, Part 1" and "Salvation, Part 2" back-to-back and I was supposed to be writing Part 3 in time for the new year. Except, after writing that much material, my brain was spent. After a while I just gave up and let myself enjoy the holidays (I figured it wouldn't matter whether or not I wrote Part 3 in time anyway, since the Salvation trilogy had gotten little attention at the time).

I also remember being intrigued by "Kung Fu Panda 2", I had seen the original back in 2008, so I wondered what they were going to do for the sequel. I certainly hadn't been expecting what I found. Honestly, up until then I considered "Kung Fu Panda" to be a good movie with a good moral, but the sequel is the movie that really converted me into a fan of the franchise. It was so much more darker and heartfelt than the original, and we really got to dig deep with Po's character. To put things simply, I loved it.

And I was especially fond of the secondary villain, the unnamed Wolf Boss, because I could tell that beneath his kidlike psychopathic persona, there were many layers to his character. Since I wasn't doing anything else at the time, I checked out the Wolf Boss fics that had already been written, and again was taken by surprise by what I found. They were magnificent. They took an overlooked secondary villain and turned him into a fan-favorite.

One of the more daring ones I found was a piece called "Erdan" by Wolflover111. It wasn't very long, and it hadn't got nearly as much attention as the others, but it stood out from all the other fics because it did something no other author had tried at the time, giving Wolf Boss a son to look after. I quickly became attached to the characters of Yu and Erdan, so when I reached the shock ending I was…gutted. It's actually one of the simpler stories I've found on the site, and the plot is pretty straightforward, but there was so much heart tucked into those short little chapters and a strong sense of tragedy that woven into Wolf Boss' character (strong, but not overstated like I've seen in some cases) that I actually found myself crying when I realized it was the end.

For the rest of the night I thought about life, death, love, redemption, and sacrifice, more than I had ever thought about those things (that's how much this fic touched me), and I did it while listening to a favorite song of mine, "The Doctor's Theme". I realized the music fit the doomed character of Wolf Boss perfectly, and from that point on whenever I heard that song I always thought of him, which is why I assigned it to him as his theme later on.

Suddenly I realized I could write again, so I ran to my family's desktop (I wouldn't have my laptop for another year). Except I didn't write the plot for the next installment of "Heritage of the Wolf". Instead it was a completely different story, one about Po and his enemy Wolf Boss. One that was built around "The Doctor's Theme", and admittedly made me cry a bit when I was writing it.

I called it "Lazarus", not because it featured any religion, but because it was all about life and death. I wanted to start writing it immediately, but there was a problem. I also wanted a sequel to "Erdan", because I felt Erdan and Yu really needed a continuation to their story. And I couldn't write both at the same time, so I decided to write Erdan's sequel first and get to "Lazarus" later.

Except "Erdan 2" went on for eight months (partly because of a crazy schedule and partly because I was lazy). And then I found myself promising one of my friends, Kodiwolf321, I'd write a collaboration fic with him (which I did). And then I finally got around to finishing the Salvation trilogy. But poor "Lazarus" kept getting put off and put off to a future date until the story was over a year old.

Of course, it's changed a lot since I first wrote it. Looking back on it, a year wiser, I realized the story could use a lot of tightening up to save space and keep the characters believable. I threw out a lot of unnecessary stuff, and reinforced the guys' backgrounds so you'd really feel for them as the story progressed. I wanted to make absolutely sure I did this right. Because I have read a lot of fics on this site that are meant to be heartbreaking and emotional but fall just short because the author is either trying to hard or focusing too much on 'making it awesome' and not enough on making the tearjerkers realistic (I won't name any names, but if you've ever encountered any stories like this you know what I'm talking about). Like Wolflover111's "Erdan" proved, sometimes less really is more, and the less emphasis you put on something, the stronger the impact it will have.

What you're about to read is the finished product. I couldn't tighten this story any more without turning it into another Wolf Boss one-shot (albeit a really long one). And it's definitely a fic that makes more sense the second time you read it. My main goal here is to make at least one of you guys feel a little bit sad at some point in this story. If I manage to touch just one person it means I did the job right. If not, then it means you're either an emotionless robot or I'm nowhere near the average writer I think I am (the latter is probably more likely). Of course, I want your opinions to be 100% honest, so if you think I'm trying too hard or not enough, you let me know.

Another thing I'd like to point out is the inclusion of orchestra music in "Lazarus". That's nothing new for me; I've included music in my stories ever since my very first fanfic. Some of it is returning pieces from "Erdan 2" (most notably "The Doctor's Theme" and variations on it), but there's also plenty of 'new material' I can't wait for you to hear. Since this fic is written on a much bigger scale than I'm used to, there's also a lot more choir songs. For those of you who aren't into instrumental, you'll be glad to know there's some rock tunes thrown in as well, plucked from the "Twilight" soundtrack.

Well, that's about all I have to say. I can't tell you anymore without giving the whole story away, so thanks for being patient enough to listen to me drone about my story these first three pages. I'm looking forward to reading your reviews when I return to the site next Saturday. Oh, and could you please try to leave reviews for as many chapters as you can? I really put a lot of work into this one, and I'd like to know how well every chapter turned out. Thank you.

Chapter 1: Rebirth.

A long, long time ago, in a country called China, in a city called Gongmen, shots rang out. The blissful silence of the night was shattered by the sounds of dozens of wolves screaming, cannons firing, and a vengeful warlord yelling at his most loyal subject, his right-hand man to commit an unthinkable act of cruelty – even more despicable than the lowest acts his commander had already done for him.

What was usually a calm and peaceful wharf had unexpectedly been turned into a battlefield, as one side greatly outmatched the other – with skill rather than numbers. For on this dark, dark day, the final battle of Gongmen City was being fought, and the fate of the entire world relied on the success of the Dragon Warrior and his kung-fu friends.

Po, a giant panda, jumped from boat to boat, throwing wolf after wolf out of his way as he charged through the thong. Behind him, the Furious Five – Master Tigress, Master Mantis, Master Monkey, Master Viper, and Master Crane - covered his back, preventing anyone from ambushing the panda from behind. And behind them, Master Croc and Master Storming Rhino aided them in the fight, along with Po's mentor, the wise old Master Shifu.

As the A-team of kung fu held off the wolven guards, Po came closer and closer to his target - Shen, the psychotic warlord determined to set sail to the rest of China and level cities as a show of power. The evil mastermind had planned on conquering China by mass-producing a powerful new cannon, one that harnessed the explosive power of Chinese fireworks. But his overconfidence was now replaced by pure fear as he watched Po and his friends draw closer and closer to his post.

He knew his time of reckoning had come - just it had been predicted; he would die at the Dragon Warrior's hands. He had spent more than thirty years trying to prevent his fate, and had murdered countless innocent souls in his attempt. But as everything continued to fall apart around him, it seemed that all the bloodshed had been in vain.

Terrified, he turned to his second-in-command/former friend, Zhong Yu, the one-eyed commander of his armed force. "Why aren't we firing?!", he demanded.

Instead of replying, Zhong looked back out into the melee. "They're taking out our gunners, sir! They're getting close!", he explained as dozens of wolves continued to go down in a straight line. An entire legion of ruthless killing-machines, disabled so easily by just a group of nine.

Lord Shen, despite all his cocky boasting earlier, was completely lost when it came to his next move. If the Dragon Warrior and his friends could do all this, he didn't stand a chance against them.

He was going to die.

But then Po got close enough for Shen to see his face, and fear turned into fury when he saw the panda's determined expression. He couldn't let Po beat him now, not after everything he had done. He had thrown away his entire life to kill the Dragon Warrior, and he wasn't going to give up now. They still had one cannon left they could use. His.

He looked back at Zhong again. "Fire at them! Fire now!", he commanded.

Zhong, just as terrified, looked back into the crowd again and his blood ran cold when he realized, for the first time in twenty-five years, this was one order he wouldn't be able to follow. He couldn't follow it. "But sir, we'll kill our own!", he argued, hoping (futilely) that his master would listen to reason.

Shen didn't reply, both he and Zhong had their eyes firmly locked on the oncoming threat. As Po, Shifu, and the Furious Five descended on them, dozens of Zhong's brothers were still attacking them, clinging to the masters' side like magnets. If they fired upon them now, they would murder the pack. Again, both the wolf and his leader saw the same scene unfolding before them, but only one of them cared about the consequences of their next move.

"FIRE!", Shen screamed in a frenzy.

Po and his comrades were so close now, only a few yards away – they'd be on them in a matter of seconds. If they wanted to shoot them, they'd have to do it now.

"Vale Decem" by Murray Gold begins.

Zhong looked down at the torch in his hands. He had an impossible choice to make; disobey a direct order from his lord and his closest friend, or slaughter his family.

The answer of course, was there was no choice to make.

He turned back to his master and glared at him coldly. "No", he growled, teeth gritted.

Shen tilted his head to the side. If he was surprised, he certainly didn't look it. The peacock's expression was so crazed it seemed Zhong's insubordination had had no effect on him at all. Or so he thought.

It all happened so fast; the boss wolf never even had time to react. But his crystal-clear night vision picked up every second of Shen's actions in almost slow motion.

The peacock reached into his sleeve, extracted a razor sharp dagger (the same one he had used to threaten the Dragon Warrior earlier) and flung it at him. He didn't even bother to make sure it hit its mark; the bird turned his head away as soon as the blade left his fingers. He had repaid Zhong for his disobedience in an act of swift vengeance, putting the traitor in his place, and now he had more important things to worry about.

The one-eyed canine stiffened as the tool of death made contact with his skin and dug into his flesh. The impact made him topple over backwards and fall to the floor of the boat. But he couldn't have cared less about that; he was in too much agonizing pain.

At first, he didn't feel anything, except the shock to his body as the blade cut into him. But as soon as he hit the ground, the fire inevitably began. First, he started to feel the jagged opening in his skin (it was kind of like the sting one received when they got a paper cut, but much bigger). Then that tiny ember turned into a blaze. And then his skin felt white hot; his once warm blood now coursing through his veins like scalding hot water.

Zhong was familiar with the feeling. Sometimes during a raid he would sustain a few flesh wounds (some lucky punks would manage to injure him, cutting him with arrows or knives before he could make his escape), but he had never been hurt this badly before. The imaginary blaze spread out from his chest area, engulfing his entire body – including his heart and lungs. Every time the vital organ pulsed, it was like adding fuel to the fire. What's more, the blood his heart was pumping, his vital life force, was just pouring out of his open chest onto the floor. He just kept bleeding and bleeding; pretty soon he'd be drained dry.

Naturally, he wanted to scream, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't force his mouth open. His brain could only focus on the pain, not on making his vocal chords work.

As the seconds ticked by, it started getting hard to breathe, and a terrifying thought entered his head. What if the blade had pierced one of his lungs? That would mean certain, immediate death! All because of Shen.

He wished his could open his mouth. Then he'd be able to snap the neck of the man who betrayed him with his jaws. Speaking of Shen… The injured wolf forced himself to look to the right, and his anger turned into fear again when he saw Shen light the cannon's fuse. He was still going to fire into the crowd.

No longer content with just lying on the floor, Zhong strained to get up, but it was no use. Shen had obviously known just where to hit him to put him out of commission. Between the pain and the loss of blood, he couldn't move even if he wanted to.

There was nothing he could do but watch.

Now only a few feet away from them and the canon, Po's eyes widened in terror as fire shot out of the barrel, aimed directly at him and his team. But before it could make contact, his friend Tigress pushed him out of the way, taking the brunt it along with her teammates.

And in that split second, Zhong blinked and all hell broke loose. The night sky lit up, turning fiery red. The air around them grew as white hot as Zhong's blood as the explosion expanded. In no time at all it had engulfed the entire fleet, vaporizing everyone and everything nearby.

Zhong's body was thrown high in the air, and when he started to come back down he quickly surveyed the flamey chaos around him. Po and the masters had been thrown backwards, the same as him; fire singeing their clothes and debris cutting into their skin. And only a few feet away from them, Zhong's pack weren't any better off. The wolves screamed as the fire swallowed them up, burning through their uniforms.

For the first time ever, Zhong understood what it must have been like being Po on the night they killed his family. This was what it felt like being helpless to save the ones you cared about, as they were taken away from you one by one - ripped away in an instant. He had never really felt a shred of remorse for what he and his pack had done that night, until now.

The explosion only lasted for about a few seconds, before the fire subsided and the sound (which always followed the lightshow) ended with an ear-shattering bang. Zhong's body was one of the first ones to touch down, landing in the bay. After sinking downwards for a few harrowing moments, he spread out his weight evenly and let himself float back to the surface, despite the heavy armor he was wearing.

The enemy force (the masters), though wounded, were clearly doing the same. But Zhong (to his dismay) couldn't see the bodies of his pack anywhere, even though they should have been floating among the chaos with the others. There was only one explanation. There wasn't anything of them left to surface.

And it was all his fault.

All of it. He'd doomed them all.

If he hadn't trusted Shen all those years ago and put his total faith in him, then countless innocents would still be living, he and his pack would still be underappreciated but respectable royal guards instead of war criminals, and China wouldn't be destroyed by a power-mad maniac. He had caused the destruction of not just himself, but the entire country. He had failed at everything he was entrusted to do, and the only honorable thing left for him was to let death have him and pray there would be some kind of afterlife waiting for him and his men.

As silence returned to the wharf again, Zhong deliberately let his body go limp, relaxing every muscle in his body. Though his chest had been burning only seconds before, he could feel the pain numbing now. In fact, every part of him was starting to go numb, like he had taken a powerful dose of sleeping pills.

Zhong, having a pretty good idea what was happening, tried to flex his fingers but found he could no longer feel them; like they weren't even a part of him anymore. What used to be his hand was replaced with the uncomfortable feeling of pins and needles, but soon even that faded away. A ghost limb.

He suddenly felt light as a feather, like everything that had been holding him down to Earth before had been cut off. Like his mind was disconnected from his body; but to his surprise, even his thoughts started to become distant. They echoed in his head like a man shouting out in an empty cave.

It was taking all of Zhong's efforts just to keep thinking, and when his chest felt empty too the wolf finally realized he had stopped breathing. His heart was no longer pumping blood into his body, and his lungs weren't rising or falling anymore. His bloody body was now bloodless. The brain was the only vital organ still working, but without oxygen soon even that would fail.

Good.

Zhong closed his eyes (or rather eye). He knew it would pointless to try and fight death, not that he would have wanted to anyway. After years of committing unspeakable acts of selfishness and ruthlessness, he was finally getting his comeuppance, but he was also finally going to find some peace. The one thing he had been denied of so long ago.

The last of Zhong's shallow breaths escaped his dry, purple lips and floated into the cold night air, turning into mist. With no life left in him, the gray wolf started sinking again, his empty lungs filling up with water. His heavy metal armor weighed him down, making him sink all the more faster.

It seemed this was to be his final resting place - the bottom of the bay.

But even as he sank further and further down into the abyss, the wolf boss' story wasn't over yet. It was only just beginning. There was still so much more to come.

((()-()))

"Turn Left" by Murray Gold begins.

Zhong opened his eyes.

Opened his eyes?

How could he open something that had ceased to exist, along with the rest of his body?

He had disappeared. He felt himself disappear. And yet here he was.

What happened to the darkness of night?

Yeah, sure it was dark wherever he was, but not as dark as it had been a few moments before. With his night vision he could slowly make out his surroundings and realized he was in a bedroom, lying on someone's bed. From the neck down he was even under a comforter; one that felt so soft and warm and inviting. He'd been an outcast for so long he'd almost forgotten what bed covers felt like.

How did he get here?

He was drowning. The last thing he remembered was that he had been drowning – he had let himself drown, to punish himself for his failure. And now his fur was perfectly dry, and his lungs were empty. His throat burned, though he supposed that was to be expected considering he drank gallons of seawater. His body should have been dried out; completely dehydrated from taking in all that salt.

The wolf finally had an idea of what must have happened. Someone found him, pumped the saltwater out of him, took him wherever he was, and fed him food and freshwater while he was out.

But how long had he been out? And who in their right minds would save him? He led an invasion force to conquer all of China, and someone decided to take pity on him and save him from a damnation he had brought entirely on himself. Why? He had to know.

The ragged lupine opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words all that came out was a low, raspy noise. Damn it, the salt water. It wasn't just the cause of his throat burning; it had taken his voice as well.

The bedroom door flew open – he hadn't even noticed until now that it had been closed the entire time – and his crimson red eyes locked onto the two men who ran inside. He recognized them immediately. He should have. He'd known them for a good portion of his life.

The boss wolf opened his mouth again to speak, already knowing it was futile but not really caring anymore, and one of the lupines quickly ran to his side. The wild dog turned back to his friend. "He's awake, go get some water!", he yelled.

The other wolf nodded and ran back wherever the two of them had come from.

Zhong's wheezes grew louder as tried harder and harder to speak, to ask his men what the hell was going on, but his damn vocal chords wouldn't work right for him. He didn't care how beat up they were, he was going to keep putting them under stress until they did. Eventually, he made himself start coughing, but he didn't stop either.

The wolf next to him, one of his cadets, couldn't bear to see him put himself through so much pain. "Commander Yu, stop!", the lupine insisted.

Zhong turned his head around and scowled at him; it was the first time Jing had ever raised his voice at his commanding officer.

"Just please stop trying to talk. Tai'll be back soon with something to help you", the war dog reasoned, genuine fear and concern in his voice. Concern that was underserved.

That last thought finally got Zhong to close his mouth and reluctantly do what the subordinate wolf requested; but he was still dying to get some answers. His men being here was just as impossible as him being here. They died, they all died, right before he died. He saw it happen, hell he was ten feet away when it happened. And yet here they all were.

So the question was, if Zhong was alive, and Tai was alive, and Jing was alive, how many others were still living? Maybe his men hadn't been slaughtered after all. Maybe they were just on the other side of that door. Again, it was killing him not knowing and he wished to hell he could talk, or that Tai would hurry up and bring him that damn water already.

As if he had read his mind Tai returned, this time leaving the door open; no doubt so whoever was on the other side would see and hear everything that was going on. The wild dog passed a tin cup to Jing, who then opened Zhong's mouth and poured a cool, steady stream of water down his parched throat.

Naturally, as soon as the cold, blue liquid made contact with his sore, burning flesh, the wolf shot up, coughing and clawing away his neck, like he was trying to scratch his insides.

"Commander stop!", Jing yelled, grabbing the older wolf's arms to stop him from hurting himself.

Tai did the same, but he held onto Zhong with a tighter, firmer grip, being the stronger of the two lupines. "Relax, Zhong. Xen said you would be like this at first. I know it hurts, and the burning won't go away for a day or two, but as long as you calm down and drink more water you should be able to talk again", Tai said calmly and authoritatively. After all, there was a reason Zhong made him his was second-in-command, and it wasn't just because he was the only dog in the guard brave enough to call him by his first name.

Tai's rationality was steadily rubbing off on him, so Zhong slowly nodded his head and sat back down. He extended his palm towards Jing, and the wolf realized (a bit late) that he was gesturing for the cup. When he got it, Zhong's first instinct was to gulp it down in one swell swoop, when he stopped himself and realized that it was probably smarter to take it slow, give his body a chance to get used to the action of drinking again. Of course the water still burned, eating away at his throat, but not as intensely as the first time; and after a while his throat was starting to feel clearer.

When he was done, Zhong sat the cup down on the bedside table next to him (now that he was fully awake, the wolf was starting to pay more attention to his surroundings, including the furniture in the room) and took a deep breath. Slowly, cautiously, he opened his mouth and made another effort to speak. It paid off. His voice was so low you could just barely make out what he was saying, but at least there were words instead of just 'static'.

"You're not wearing your masks", he coughed.

He hadn't caught it at first. Confusion and panic had clouded his mind until he did as Tai said and calmed down, and just like how he had noticed the open door and the table by the bed, Zhong finally realized he was seeing more of his men's faces than just their sharp, red eyes – and that wasn't right. Unlike their leader, Zhong's pack wore their masks nearly 24/7, so much so that only he and Shen knew what they really looked like underneath them.

Tai shrugged, as if Zhong's question was just a minor niggle, dwarfed by a bigger thought on his mind. "We haven't had much use for them here", he replied.

Zhong arched his eyebrow. "And where is here?", the one-eyed wolf inquired, a little louder now.

"You should recognize this place. It's that cabin we found, outside Gongmen?", Jing said, hoping to jog his leader's memory.

"We're in a cabin?", Zhong thought, looking around him. Taking in every inch of the place, Zhong noted that the walls did look quite old and worn, indicating they had been exposed to the weather. But since there weren't any windows it wasn't exactly obvious from the inside they were in the wild.

As for the cabin itself, Zhong had a pretty good idea of what Jing was talking about. About a month ago, he and his men were on their way back to Gongmen after making a very successful raid on the Valley of Peace and noticed this strange cabin, located right in the middle of the forest and sitting all by its lonesome after it had been abandoned by its owners for a few decades; maybe even centuries. He didn't go inside, but he sent two of his men to check for any leftover metal. Every little bit helped after all.

Like he was reading his mind again, Tai spoke. "We didn't have a lot of time, and this was the first place we thought to take you where no one would find us, since not even we knew of its existence until a little while ago", the grey wolf explained.

Zhong glanced at him, the veteran's curiosity turning to concern again. He had so many questions he had almost forgotten one of the most pressing ones. He threw the covers off him and jumped out of bed. "What happened?", he demanded.

Instead of answering, Tai and Jing just stared at him, wide-eyed, like they were staring at something Zhong couldn't see. "What happened?", he repeated, losing his patience.

Jing cleared his throat, and tore his eyes off whatever he had been looking at it. "The Dragon Warrior happened. He survived Lord Shen's attempts to kill him, twice. One by one, he destroyed Shen's weapons and decimated his fleet", the cadet explained.

"But he was shot. I saw him and his friends get shot!", Zhong stressed in disbelief.

"Zhong, we're living proof that the dead don't always stay dead. The panda found inner peace, and he used Shen's own weapon against him", Tai informed.

"The fireworks were epic", Jing added, grinning toothily before he was silenced by Tai's disapproving stare.

"Nothing could stop him, he was unbeatable, and Shen had already proven his disloyalty to us, so we beat a hasty retreat before any more of us could fall. During the chaos, while the Dragon Warrior and his comrades were distracted, we fished as many of our wounded out of the sea as we could, including you", Tai continued.

No longer content with staying quiet, Jing spoke up again. "We thought you were dead, Yu. You weren't breathing, and we thought you were dead", he remarked, shuddering as he remembered whatever had gone down that morning.

"We didn't have time to determine whether you were alive or dead, so we took you with us when we fled into the forest. We didn't pump the water out of you until we knew they wouldn't follow us, and by then we thought we were too late", Tai said quietly. "Well, I say 'we', Koran actually did it", he added.

"Koran?", Zhong asked, really having a hard time believing this part. And for a good reason.

"He was so strong. Stronger than I would have been in his situation", Jing admitted. "I've run with you for a long time, commander, and I've never been as scared as I was then. You'd already lost so much blood, but you were still bleeding everywhere", he shuddered again, obviously disturbed by the memories of his dying, crippled leader.

It was of no surprise to Zhong that Jing was so rattled by what he saw. He was one of the younger wolves of the pack, only twenty-three years old compared to the older veterans like him who were in their forties and early fifties. Jing wasn't born yet when they laid siege to the Dragon Warrior's village all those years ago, and even though his pack had done plenty since then, Jing had never had a chance to experience a battle as bloody as that one. Until now.

And it probably didn't help that he and Tai were part of the few wolves Zhong knew who didn't approve of their cruel war crimes; one of the few who had kept their consciences over the years. Unlike him. He almost envied them.

"Wait…you said I lost a lot of blood?", he asked his cadet. And then he remembered something else he had forgotten.

He hadn't just drowned. He'd also been stabbed – impaled by the blade of his best friend.

And here he thought he was just starting to become aware of things again. He had completely failed to realize the reason Tai and Jing had been staring at him when he stood up was because he shouldn't have been able to. Because it had only been a few days at least since he was injured and his wound would be still be very fresh and very irritable.

No sooner had Zhong realized that than a jolt of that fiery pain that he remembered oh so well rushed through his chest, filling his bloodstream. Except this time he wasn't dying, so there wasn't anything to numb it or distract him from it. His adrenaline and his single-minded need to get some answers was what had protected him from noticing it before, but now that Jing had brought his attention to it there was no returning to blissful ignorance. The wolf yelped and fell to his knees on the floor, clutching his chest like an old man having a heart attack.

"Commander!", Jing yelled, wasting no time in grabbing his superior and pulling him back onto the bed. Behind him, Zhong could see a few more wolves run inside, worried about all the screaming. So there were others. "Are you alright?", Jing asked.

Zhong groaned and leaned against the headboard. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just continue. Tell me everything", he insisted.

Jing, though he was still concerned, nodded obediently. Standing not too far behind him, one of Zhong's men scowled at the one-eyed wolf. Koran; the one who saved him. Though judging by the way he was looking at him right now, he was having second thoughts about whether or not he should have done that. And Zhong couldn't say he blamed him.

His chest felt heavy again, but because of guilt rather than pain. For the first time in a long time Zhong avoided making eye contact with someone else besides Shen, and looked away from Koran, shame filling his gut.

"Koran got you breathing again, and I made a tourniquet with my shirt to stop the bleeding, but we needed someplace to properly tend to your wounds, someplace not so exposed, so I suggested we come here. It's cramped, but it'll do", Jing informed him, looking around at the not-so-large bedroom they were resting in.

"But this cabin is tiny! There's only two floors! And even if it wasn't small, no cabin would be enough to hold hundreds", Zhong reasoned; once again his men weren't making any sense and he was starting to get tired of being confused all the time.

Jing glanced at Tai, and both wolves looked down at the floor. That one gesture was all Zhong needed to realize what they were thinking, as well as something else he had been missing this whole time. He was either getting old or stupid. "How many?", he asked, quieting down respectfully.

"We don't know whether or not they're really gone. We survived after all. Maybe they did too and they're just imprisoned somewhere", Jing said hopefully.

"If they are then they're as good as dead anyway. Now how many?", Zhong repeated coldly, shooting that thought down almost immediately. He knew there was a difference between hopeful optimism and denial, and a soldier could never afford to go into denial. When living a life like his, it was always better to face the cold hard truth.

"Over two hundred. There's only thirty of us left", Tai reported, saying what Jing couldn't bring himself to.

Zhong closed his eyes and sank back into his pillow.

"We've thrown out all the furniture in this cabin except in this room. There are four of us living in every bedroom, and fifteen bunking in the living room", Tai continued.

"There's barely enough room for us to breathe, let alone move around. We're going to have to build more cabins, but we've been waiting for you to wake up first. If you woke up", Jing added.

Zhong didn't answer. He was too busy thinking about the fact that two hundred of his men were now dead. Because of him.

"You can't blame yourself for this happening", Tai insisted, once again speaking directly in time with Zhong's thoughts. Maybe he wasn't reading Zhong's mind, maybe he just knew how he thought really well. Perhaps when you fought alongside someone for twenty-five years you started to notice things about them.

"But it is my fault", Zhong said defiantly – he didn't even turn his head to look at his second-in-command, that's how certain he was that his words were the cold, hard truth. "I'm your leader, and I led you all to your deaths", he stated, finally speaking what had been on his mind since he'd first woken up.

He suddenly felt Jing's hand on his face, pushing his head to the left, and suddenly he was face-to-face with the younger wolf; naturally he growled at him. But to his surprise, the cadet growled back.

"You can't focus on that now. A soldier's job isn't to grieve his dead brethren; he moves on and looks after the ones who are still alive. Remember that? It's the first thing you taught me when I was a kid and I lost someone. You told me it was something someone taught you when you were my age. You're still alive and you're still our leader. You've still got a job to do, so stop feeling sorry for yourself and tell us what to do", Jing ordered. Tai nodded, obviously agreeing with him.

Surprised, Zhong tilted to his side. Why did they still want him as their commanding officer? He had done nothing to earn their undying loyalty, except fail them time after time again. He didn't even deserve to serve alongside them, let alone lead them.

"Because we're more than just your men. We're your friends, Zhong. We were before all this crazy shit happened, and we still are now", Tai said, replying to his thoughts like he had read them on the one-eyed wolf's face.

Behind Tai, Koran's scowl deepened into a look of pure disgust; until Tai caught on and growled at him, warning him to leave the room. He had no problem obliging. He had had enough of all this talk about friendship and loyalty.

Zhong sighed and ran a rough paw over his face. "We'll hide out here for a while, until I can think of something to do", he decided.

"Is there anything else you want us to get you? Some more water?", Jing offered.

"No", Zhong grunted; he obviously wanted to be left alone so he could think to himself. So he could blame himself some more. Still there was really nothing they could do for him to lessen the pain (physically and metaphorically), so the two wolves nodded their heads and padded out of the front door, leaving him to his thoughts.

Zhong didn't sleep that night. How could he sleep when he had death of countless animals, including his own men, on his conscience? And it was just the first of many sleepless nights ahead of him.

((()-()))

Zhong blinked; the bright light of the fire irritating his eye(s). Maybe he shouldn't be standing so close, but he wanted to be as close as possible to see this. The survivors of his pack, now only thirty strong, had built a bonfire outside the cabin – but not to keep warm or cook food. Like Tai said, they hardly had need for their masks anymore, or their armor. Or Shen's insignia.

They were no longer bandits, or soldiers, or guards, or anything with a formal title. Any honor they used to have was dead and forgotten, like so many of their numbers, and they had lost the purpose they had had for so long serving under Shen. They honestly had no idea what they were anymore besides fugitives, so they were doing away with anything that tied them to their old lives.

Some did it because they no longer wanted to be associated with Lord Shen and the sadistic dream he stood for, some because they wanted to erase any evidence of their wrong-doing, and a very small few, Zhong included, because they couldn't bear the shame of looking upon their former uniforms and remembering the pain and hurt they caused themselves and the rest of China.

So they stood there, totally and eerily silent in a semi-circle, as the flames engulfed all their broken weapons and tattered clothes (they planned on stealing more whenever they got the chance, but for now they just wanted to get this part of starting over again over with). Pretty soon the fabric was torn apart, the metal melted down, and the wood burnt to cinders; the ashes from the pile blowing freely in the wind above and around them.

The last thing to be thrown in was Zhong's shoulder plate, and in just a few moments it was gone, like his former friend. Shen was never coming back, and Zhong never thought he'd say this, but he thanked god he wasn't. It was time for him to lead his pack for once in his life, without anyone else to defer to, and he was going to try his best to make all the right choices.

In the distance, far enough away that she was hidden from the wolves but close enough to see their burly forms standing around the fire, an old goat rubbed her beard, waiting patiently – something one had to be very good at to be a soothsayer. That was one of the downsides to the job, having to always wait for the things a person foresaw to actually happen. Sometimes it was just a few hours, sometimes a few days, and sometimes years.

She was here because even though Shen was defeated and her home was liberated, she still had a vital (albeit small) role to play in a very long game, one that had been in play for decades. How it ended was entirely up to the Dragon Warrior.

"Doctor Who: Series Four Opening Credits" by Murray Gold begins.