"Disaster," that was all Grake could mutter as he looked through his spyglass onto the First Warren.

Morbin's siege had been completely routed. Grake and his fleet had arrived just in time to see the massive Blackhawk skewered with a stone sword.

Of his king, Farlock, there was no sight, but the flooded city and broken dam told the tale well enough. The entire thing had been a massive trap.

"Admiral Grake!" barked his Vice-Admiral, Dreath, a young white wolf who had part of his muzzle clawed off, perpetually revealing his teeth, "All ships report ready to engage!"

Grake was overcome with sudden fury. Rage at the death of his king. Indignation that these- these prey had dared to rise up against the finest armies of his people. He would make them pay. He would storm the city, overwhelm the last of the resistance- who must surely be weakened- and then they would slaughter. Burn. Feast.

The old gray wolf shook his head, and folded up his spyglass. The rest of Morbin's allies had likely thought the same. These were not prey. They were enemy and a dangerous one at that. They needed to be treated with respect, the same way one treated fire, or he would get burned.

And Grake had experienced quite enough of that.

"Give the order to retreat," he told Dreath, "We're going home."

"Sir?" the younger wolf blinked at him, "What about King Farlock?"

"The King is either dead or retreated- but he isn't here. Morbin is dead and other five probabaly are as well. Personally, I do not consider myself greater than any of the people I just mentioned, and if they couldn't do it, we definitely aren't trying."

"But they're just rabbits! They are Food! They are nothing!"

"We. Are going. Home. That's final. If King Farlock and his forces are really dead... We might be the last wolf army in existence."

Dreath froze at that, and stared his superior in the eye. It went unspoken between the two of them that if that were true, Grake was likely the new king.

"I'll give the order at once, sir," Dreath said, snapping off a salute, before running back down the ship.

Grake went back to staring at the city.

"Absolute disaster."