Something Worth Fighting For

The air was ashy. 
I stared blankly at the burnt remains of my home.
We have nothing, my mother whispered. 
Nothing, whispered my sister. 
Nothing.

It had been nightfall. 
A giant red monster chased us up our tree.
There was nothing we could do.
There was nothing they could do.
Nothing.

We are the last koalas, something worth fighting for.
If we die, there is nothing to replace us.
What will be next? 
What will you have left?
Nothing.