Worst is the realization.

When the path runs out, when dead ends loom, when the boulder rolls into place.

When the Isosceles Maneuver crumbles, when all fall in a heap, when the volcano smothers them.

When the pups fall from the backs of their parents, when the only words are begging and pleading, when there is no answer to cries for help..

When there is only silence in the end.

And the knowledge that…

All this time, we were walking to our deaths. And the hope we dared kindle in our hearts, the gentle words we spoke to our crying pups, the dreams we let fill our heads at night — the foolish belief that if only we complied, we might live—

Off they go

I do not know

If we will see another

And we will not.