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The widow returns to her home, a soft, pleasant smell lingering in the breeze, reminding her of her time with her husband and son. She stares blankly at her husband's old, worn-out clothes, before adoring an old cloak of his, concealing her face. She collects all of the money she has left before setting off for the coast. There she bribes a fisherman, and both of them set out for Longosardo. They both arrive in the late evening, the sun barely showing above the horizon. She thanks the man before dissapearing into the quiet town. The sun dissapears as she arrives at Nicolas's doorstep. She fishes for a key within one of the pockets, a key belonging to her son. After retrieving the key, she walks up the worn door, twisting it into the lock before entering the shack. She shifts like a spirit throughout the house, before standing at Nicolas's bed, his undisturbed form ignorantly peaceful. She draws a rusty knife, before slitting his throat, watching him writhe and flail before falling lifeless, tangled in his sheets. She starts towards the door, until she is stopped by a small girl, the daughter of Nicolas.

The widow retraces her step back to her house, the walls swaying in the wind. Semillante stands at the steps, howling at her master as the wind blows through her clotted fur. The hag traces her feeble fingernails along the hound's head, scratching lightly at her ear, yet she only stares blankly, the dog whines as it leans into her touch bringing nothing to her face. She draws her steps up to her porch, her fragile body leaning upon the teetering banister, before reaching the door, a slight yearning coming from the hatchway as she enters, the dog squeezing in behind her. She stares down an empty passageway, dust creeping along the edges of the floor. A rocking chair sits in front of the window, overlooking the hamlet where her son's killer lays. Yet the ordinarily, still chair lurches forwards, boots along wood as a staunch man stands up. Semillante barks a rageful torrent at the figure, tail tucked between her starved legs. Yet, the widow remains calm, she draws her son's Bodeo handgun from her coat, wrinkles tracing dead metal. She calls for Nicolas, death itself in her voice. She wanders towards him, fingers lining the trigger, the beast follows behind her, back arched as a low, horribe growl reverberates along her jowls. The woman makes a proposition, a game of Briscola, to decide their fates. Neighbors later reported a gunshot, emminating from the old hut, as the sun, hit the peak of the sky.

The widow chains up Semillante, starving her for days on end. Until one day she makes a scarecrow out of straw and her late husband's clothes. She sets it in front of Semillante as the dog is tempted to tear it apart then and there. Later in the evening, she sits outside and cooks a sausage, teasing the dog with the smell, before wrapping the sausage around the scarecrow's neck, unleashing the beast as she watches it tear apart the man's straw neck. After much time, the routine continued, she sets out to Longosardo in old beggar's clothes. She tracks down Nicolas at his work, both of them alone, before she sets Semillante upon him, watching as she rips out his throat, Nicolas squirming and fighting against the beast, only to go limp, dead. She leaves without any suspicion upon her, before going home and sleeping peacefully.

This ending exemplifies the moral that revenge and cruel acts in general can be carried out by the most unexpecting people. So you should never wrong somebody.

The widow's decision to get revenge through a simple game of Briscolla introduces the idea of revenge being unusual, less black and white than we take it, as it can be carried out in many different ways, with a variety of catalysts. Yet this is not the only thing introduced, as with the ending being open ended, it reveals that revenge doesn't end, feelings of hatred, anger, and grief do not go away after the fact.

This ending relates more to justice itself, and how what may be right to another person, may be seen as a horrible act to others. Justice is biased. Justice, is sometimes unjust. Yet, it is also a contrast between the widow, and Nicolas's daughter, both, now alone.

If you think justice itself, is unjust, then continue down this path.

If you think that revenge is complicated, then continue down this pathway.

If you think that revenge hurts the wrong people, then continue down this path.