Morgarath viewed the proceedings with a critical eye. The wargals were ugly, but efficient and they obeyed him.

"No! Stop! Don't kill it!" Morgarath shouted.

"Oh, does the runt like this thing? Ha, well, like does cling to like!" His tormentor said.

Morgarath shook tears from his eyes. He would not give the other boy the satisfaction in seeing him cry. "Don't kill it." Morgarath said again.

The boy ignored him, and brought his knife down upon the creature.

"No!" Morgarath cried.

The older boys left, laughing as Morgarath scrambled to where the mangled creature lay. It was his dog, his only friend. It was an ugly thing, but it was his. Morgarath decided that there were two positions in life. The people up top and the people who were bullied and hurt. Morgarath decided he would be on the top.

Morgarath shook his head, realizing that he had teared up at the memory. Was this really the right path? Of course it was. Why would he even ponder that?