"We're screwed… we're so dead…" Hank muttered, his face pale as he stared at the horizon.
Dreadpaw's army was closing in, a tidal wave of undead fury. The Zombie Horde—nearly a million strong—had surrounded them completely, sealing off every escape route.
There was nowhere left to run. No way out. This was the end of the line.
Dreadpaw's eyes locked onto Hank with murderous intent, his hunger for vengeance practically radiating off him.
"You have no idea how long I've waited to see you again," he growled, voice low and guttural. "Now tell me—where the hell did you hide my livestock?"
"Uh… I…" Hank stammered, his mind going blank under the pressure. He couldn't even form a coherent sentence.
Then, from beside him, Ethan spoke up calmly, "I know where they are."
Dreadpaw's head snapped toward him. "Where?! Tell me—now!" His jagged teeth clenched, his voice rising with desperation.
But Ethan just shrugged, his tone casual. "Nah. Find them yourself."
