In the confusion and utter chaos of that early night, the gargoyles of the eastern clan had only one thing on their minds: survival. As the rest of the clan fought their foe valiantly but in vane, one gave a young blue-skinned female the order to take the children from the Rookery and go! Now! So that they may be spared if no one else.

Dashing quickly to the thick doors, she yanked them open. The hatchlings within were scared but not by her entrance. The screams and yells and noise were not kept out by the Rookery doors.

She grabbed a child at random and ran, pulling the doors closed as she exited. The child had been clutching a grey cloth and would not release it so she tucked it under her arm as she ran.

"Wait!" called an older male, running for her.

She slowed and he pulled something from his belt, then handed it to her.

"Go, go!"

She wasted no second and was off again. Using a passage not noticed by the massacre ahead, she slipped out and away with the child, down a large hole, and out onto the beach. Running as fast as her legs would carry her, the blue-skinned gargoyle cut into the greenery.

How far is far enough away? She must get back quickly. Was this far enough yet? The young gargoyle glanced back. She saw no sign of her clan's home. She must hurry!

Digging in her claws to stop on an inch, she deposited the child, cloth, and pouch she'd been handed. And the blue-skinned gargoyle took a bare second to look at the child as she turned and took off again. The child was female, and had the hair and dark green skin of the male clansman that had stopped her to give her the pouch.

Don't think now. Just run!

She made it back quickly but it felt as though a lifetime. As she made her way up the hole, there seemed to be very little noise above. Was… was the battle over? The blue-skinned gargoyle poked her head out before jumping up. There were several bodies on the ground. Fallen kinsmen; all dead. Holding her emotions, she ran down the passage toward the Rookery. A few bodies lay about, lifeless. She knew every face; as elder, as brother or sister. A tear slipped unbidden.

Clenching her teeth, she ran passed them, pulling open the Rookery doors. There were so many… Could she take two at a time? She grabbed one, then another of the now-crying children. She closed the doors again and started toward the hole…and faltered. There were no more screams, or roars; only silence. No…Nooo! They… All?…

She ran but with more speed than ever in her life. It was as if she were flying!

The blue-skinned gargoyle was hit so swiftly by a bolt of energy, neither she, nor the children she carried, felt anything. They crumbled, like wilting flowers, onto the ground inches from the hole.

Their murderer stepped closer, inspected all three to make sure they were dead. It was complete… nearly. The other hatchlings could be heard crying from within a room. He straightened, then moved on to the Rookery doors. None could be left alive.

Camouflaged save for her white wings, the lone rescued hatchling sat in the sandy grass, the ocean breeze the only noise about. Her mumbled cries were not heard and it would be several days before she saw anyone again.