Evander’s vison spun horribly as he sank down to his knees before falling face down in the snow. Pain throbbed in his head, sending his ears ringing and consciousness dwindling by nothing more than a thread. It felt like an eternity that he lay there bleeding in the snow, eyes narrowed into slits as he tried to focus on the world that had been reduced to nothing more than a collection of impossible blurs.

Aldwyn nodded behind him to what Evander assumed was another one of the runaways, smiling again and titling his head as he looked down at the boy on the ground.

“Is he dead?”

“Nah, didn’t hit him hard enough for that.”

“Should have done what I said, vexing knockskull!” He stood, prodding him less than gently in the side with a boot. “It’s easier when you do.”

Evander didn’t even react.

It wasn’t that he didn’t feel it but he lacked the strength and awareness to wince when Aldwyn brought his booted foot into his side again. He waited for it to come again, allowing his eyes to close for a moment while he tried to grasp at his surroundings that were still threatening to slip away. Aldwyn knelt down beside him, snatching the compass off the ground and rolling it over in his hands. He smiled contently, looking all too pleased, and Evander saw him eye the crimson that had dripped into the snow beside him.

“Should have,” he said, smiling and placing a hand on his shoulder, “listened to me, kid.”

Evander rolled sideways, knocking Aldywn off balance and sending the other runaway yelping to the ground. Agony roared in his head, sending flashes of murky spots swimming in front of his eyes but he managed to scramble for a knife in his boot.

Aldwyn was gulping against the blade the next time he tried to swallow.

“Don’t move,” Evander growled.

Aldwyn’s eyes widened at the sight of the bloodied runaway crouched over him, one arm twisted awkwardly behind him and the other pinned beneath Evander’s free hand. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the dizziness but finding it still clung no matter what he did.

“Up we go,” he hissed, holding the knife firmly.

He dragged himself upright, pulling Aldwyn with him and found himself leaning on the other runaway more than he wanted to. Aldwyn didn’t move, didn’t make a sound beyond a quiet sniveling that was silenced as soon as Evander tightened his grip on the knife.

“The compass, now.”

Very carefully, his captive reached into his pocket and handed over the small silver glint of the compass, pressing it into Evander’s hand and staying utterly silent. Aldwyn’s shaking hands went back to his sides again, his breath coming out as a whine when Evander spun them around to face the others.

“Good, now I’m going to,” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts, “let you go. Give me the hound.”

Aldwyn opened his mouth to speak but stopped when one of the others took a few steps forward, face twisting into one of horror. Evander spun them around, grabbing tightly onto Aldwyn’s arm and baring his teeth at the one who dared to advance.

“Take another vexing step and he dies! I’ll kill him in front of every damn person in this town if I have to…I’ll kill him!”

“Shit, back off!” Aldwyn wailed. “You heard him! All of you, back up!”

All at once, the other runaways took a few hesitant steps back.

“The dog, now.” Evander lessened his grip, feeling his head scream when he staggered, to where Aldwyn could swallow without feeling the prick of the blade against his throat. “Tell them to let the dog go.”

“And what if he attacks them?” Aldwyn snapped. “You about to call him off- Alright, let the cur go!”

The two holding Orion didn’t flinch.

“Let the damn dog go!” Aldwyn cried as Evander pressed the knife inward.

Nothing.

“They aren’t listening. What do you want me to do?” he whined.

“Shut up…just…”

He swore, head spinning and grip loosening before he could stop himself. Aldwyn’s elbows drove back into his ribs, ripping a gasp of pain from him and sending him stumbling backwards only to have the knife twisted away from his grasp. A boot was brought down into his knee, buckling his legs and sending Evander back to the ground again with a wheeze and a cry.

“Not so tough, are you?” Aldwyn spat. “Son of a bitch, think you could get away with doing that?”

Pushing himself up on one elbow shakily, he swallowed at the feeling of blood trickling down his forehead. He didn’t, not in a million years, stand any sort of a chance. They were laughing, the sound ringing in his head more than the pain that rocketed through his skull. He swallowed, forcing himself back to his knees, pausing there to breathe, before shoving back to his feet again.

“If you’re going to fight…fight fairly.”

“I knew I liked you even if you are a vexing idiot. Tell you what, I’ll make you an offer. Come with us, stay a while, and I’ll be sure you live. If not, won’t be responsible for what my friends do.” Aldwyn smiled cruelly. “Sound fair?”

“No.”

The boy snorted, stepping backwards and lifting a hand to wipe away a bead of blood from his throat.

“Suit yourself.” He turned then, facing the same burly runaway as before. “Teach him some respect. He needs it.”

“Why don’t we just shoot him?” one of the others suggested.

Aldwyn seemed to consider it and Evander found his legs shook more the longer he was on his feet.

“No, he’s going to learn. Don’t kill him but I won’t stop you from beating him within an inch of his vexing life.”

“Are you too afraid to fight on your own?” Evander called, straightening himself. “Are you just going to walk away?”

Aldwyn only snorted again, annoyance snapping away into anger.

“I changed my mind. Kill him if you want but don’t use a gun. Bullets do cost, you know. He wanted a fight, Glen.” He turned, glaring back at Evander. “Give him one.”

“Fight of his life, then, I guess.”

There wasn’t another word spoken and not another moment for Evander to think or even consider his situation before the runaway swung. He was dodging, stumbling and narrowly avoiding the strikes that would have likely rendered him unconscious in half a second if he hadn’t sidestepped. It was a blur, blows and blocks and too many movements around them for him to keep track of clearly until, by some miracle, there was a mistake.

Evander ducked his head, feeling the runaway’s fist glance off his jaw, and snapped his arms up again to catch it. His head was pounding and his legs shook, eyes slamming shut until he heard the horrifying crack that rang out followed by a yowl that he almost mistook for his own.

But then he realized that the runaway that went sprawling to the ground, wailing and clutching his unnaturally bent arm, the sound hadn’t come from him. He was horrified, once his awareness of what he’d done finally returned, but between the screams and the curses from the other runaways, he didn’t have much time to think about it.

“Son of a bitch! What’s wrong with you?” one of them screeched.

“Bastard’s a goddamned monster!” the one on the ground howled.

They were on him again, one wielding a knife that slashed and swiped any chance he could get. Evander staggered, swearing at the tears that were beginning to appear in his coat every time they got close enough slice through fabric and flesh. He lost track of them, where they were and just how many there were.

They wanted him dead.

He didn’t want to die.

An arm was wrapped around his neck, trapping his head and hauling him backwards, scrambling and squirming off the ground. He clawed at the arm holding him, struggling to breathe against the weight on his throat.

“Easy there!”

“Did you idiots not hear me? Kill him!”

Evander’s arms drove back and he was free, briefly unscathed until they moved forward again and he was lost in a fog of confusion and sharp jabs that he could barely follow. His breath was coming in ragged gasps, sending his head spinning further and leaving his heart racing in his heaving chest.

He’d been taught how to fight, how to handle a situation in which he couldn’t talk his way out of it, but it didn’t seem to be making things any easier. Silas had been annoyingly adamant about Evander knowing how to defend himself but hand to hand, especially when already battling to stay conscious, had to be his least favorite.

“Look at him go! Thinks he can actually make it out of this alive!”

“Tough little bitch, isn’t he?”

Evander wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Piss off.”

They only laughed, circling slowly and shouting taunts as they went around and around in tight circles. He was beginning to understand how it felt to be a deer surrounded by wolves, hopeless and yet still fighting for something he didn’t stand a chance in.

He rocked back when they advanced again, dodging and parrying what he could but the more he swung, the more they struck. Slashes of knives melded with kicks and punches that were enough to send him reeling each time but not enough, though very nearly, to knock him flat again.

But they didn’t stop and neither did he until a fist was slammed into his belly for the third, or perhaps even the fourth, fifth, or seventh time, and he doubled over. He spat blood from his mouth, flicked crimson from his eyes and, much to his dismay, felt his entire body shudder. His legs buckled as the hilt of a knife was slammed into his back, sending him, for the last time, collapsing to the ground.

There were too many, he’d known that from the start, but true realization took its time in hitting him. His vision blurred, thoughts distorted, and he was left in a defeated heap at Aldwyn’s feet.

“It’s over now, kid. You should be grateful you’re dying here instead of out east. Really, you should be thanking me.”

Evander gazed up at him through cracked and swollen lids, catching sight of the cold barrel of Aldwyn’s rifle inches above his head. He opened his mouth, struggling to concentrate on anything beyond the sound of his sporadic breathing, but not a sound came out no matter how hard he tried.

His eyes closed. The gun clicked.

But it wasn’t the sound of the rifle discharging that exploded out through the once again empty streets. Evander barely understood that it was Orion that lunged, barking and snarling, and tackled Aldwyn to the ground. He tore, ripping his head from side to side, at the runaway’s arm like he was a ragdoll. The others froze, one even fleeing down one of the alleyways, but none moved to help the boy on the ground.

Orion let go, for some reason that Evander had drifted too far to understand, but stayed where he was above the boy, teeth bared and bloody drool dripping down from his snarl. But there was a second sound that rocked the streets, a gunshot that sent those who hadn’t fled before scrambling away and out of sight. Even Aldwyn, cradling his arm and wailing along with the rest of them, was gone a moment later.

“Vex it all, Aldwyn! You bastards stay out of my sight or I’ll blow your vexing heads off!”

Evander didn’t recognize the voice, only feeling Orion’s nose against his cheek as the hound lowered down gently beside him. He didn’t feel the cold anymore and even the pain that had been excruciating a moment before was beginning to wane. It ebbed away until he began to feel numb, swallowing everything, his own consciousness included.

~ ~ ~ ~

The gunshot nearly made him jump out of his skin, sending his pony whinnying and rearing into the air in fight. He pulled back on the pony’s reins, calling out to the animal to calm itself before his attention moved back to the source of the sound. The runaways sped by him, at least two sobbing, and Daniel had to admit that some part of him was impressed.

He moved forward carefully, unsure of exactly what to do as his eyes fell over the runaway on the ground with the massive hound curled up beside him. But he stopped then, seeing someone hurrying over with a rifle slung over his shoulder and a coat thrown carelessly over his shoulders.

“You, get over here!” the man called.

He stopped. “Me?”

“No, the nag you’re dragging along behind you. Yes, you!”

“Oh, right, just a second.”

He jogged over to the hitching post, quickly looping his pony’s reins to it beside a skinny gray mare that he knew belonged to the other runaway. The man crouched down beside the boy on the ground, keeping back far enough away from the growling hound and seemed to watch the unsteady movements of his chest.

“He’s alive. Help me get him up,” the man grumbled, brown eyes narrowing sharply.

“How?”

The man paused, reaching up to scratch at his bearded chin, and raised his hands out slowly towards the dog that had come to stand over the runaway.

“Easy now, we aren’t going to hurt the boy.”

A snort sounded from the hound but he didn’t stand down, still growling softly with hackles raised and teeth bared.

“Your name?”

“Excuse me?”

“What’s your name, boy?” the man repeated.

“Daniel,” he paused, clearing his throat, “sir.”

“Jackson, now help me get this vexing hound away from him. Good dog, he is, but he doesn’t understand we’re trying to help,” the man said gruffly, eyes flashing back to the hound once more.

Daniel gave a curt nod, holding his hands out the way Jackson had done a moment ago, and carefully placed one hand one the hound’s shoulder. He patted him gently, watching as the snarl disappeared but the growling still rumbled in his chest. He’d never liked dogs but the growing was enough to set him on edge.

“Back up, please.”

He pushed gently, watching as the hound stepped back but not before snapping down on his hand and sending Daniel scrambling backwards in the opposite direction.

“He bit me!”

“Are you bleeding?”

“Well, no-“

“Help me.”

The man moved forward and despite his skinny build, obvious even with the bulkiness of his coat, draped one of the runaway’s arms over his shoulders and came staggering to his feet. Daniel came up to his other side, unsure of exactly what to do and cursing himself for having stopped to begin with. He could have been further south by then and instead he’d chosen to follow a runaway that had nearly gotten himself killed. Though, even if he didn’t know it, it wasn’t entirely surprising.

“Come on, we need to get him inside.”

Daniel followed, taking the runaway’s other arm and following the innkeeper towards the still open door. He didn’t understand what had been said or done to make the gang so angry. Even if it was an argument, things had escalated rather quickly from what he’d seen.

The stairs were difficult and Daniel nearly stumbled, hearing the innkeeper curse at him softly, but by the time they reached the inn, he realized that Jackson wasn’t alone. Her hair was messy, braided back, and the blue of her eyes were still blurry with sleep. She frowned when they entered, studying the two of them carefully as she shut the door behind them.

“Father, I-“

“Get the dog,” Jackson called, cutting her off as the two dragged the runaway into the center of the room.

The inn was just like the others he’d seen, plain and lit by a fireplace as well as a few lanterns that were still burning on worn tabletops. She, Elizabeth, stepped in front of them, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“What happened? Is he shot?”

The man didn’t answer, only motioning for her to take Daniel’s place and urging him to back up.

“Aldwyn?”

“Of course, it was Aldwyn!”

She sighed tiredly, taking the runaway’s arm and laying it over her shoulder.

“Who are you? Is he your friend?”

“D-Daniel, and no he’s not. We’ve never met.”

Jackson started forward and she was tugged along with him down the hall.

“Make yourself at home! I’ll be back in just a moment!”

“Alright, should I-“

They were gone, a door closing behind them before he could finish.

Daniel looked back towards the hound, seeing it begin to move after them but was stopped by the door. He whistled softly, patting his thigh and watching as the animal reluctantly started towards him. While he may not have liked them, he reached down to pat the dog gently on the head. It was large, almost too large to be a normal dog, and considering it had just bitten him, he hoped it couldn’t tell he was afraid.

“You’re a funny thing. I’m sure your friend will be just fine.”

The hound sneezed, padding slowly over to the fire and plopping down heavily with a drawn out sigh. Daniel chewed at his lip nervously, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck as he glanced towards the door. He could be gone before they returned, he thought. They’d never know where he went and he wouldn’t have to deal with explaining what he knew about the fight.

“Damn,” he whispered, starting towards the door.

“Where are you going? Leaving already?”

He turned then, jumping at the sound of the girl’s voice and shrugging unsurely.

“My father says you’re welcome to stay here for the night.”

“T-that’s very kind but I really should be on my way. I can’t stay-“

“Don’t you want to wait for your friend?”

He winced, unsure how to say that he’d never met the runaway before and instead had just watched him get beaten into a bloody pulp.

“Is he going to okay?” he asked, figuring it was at least polite.

“He should be,” she said, biting her lip. “They did a number on him but I’m sure he’ll be just fine. Did you see it? The fight, I mean.”

“No,” he lied, voice dropping. “I just rode into town when your father came.”

“Elizabeth!”

“I need to go help. Make yourself at home, Daniel. I’ll be back soon.”

“Alright, should I do any…thing?”

She was gone again, door closing behind her.

“I’ll just…wait here.”

Next Chapter: Chapter 5