“Ya think ya so smart, ya little shit!? Think ya got me, huh!?” Baliger growled.

Luric had been so focused on Baliger’s face that he hadn’t notice the fist looming above it until it hit and smashed his head against the floor. There was no pain at first; the punch hadn’t made him lose consciousness, but it must’ve have knocked his senses out of whack because for a few moments white was all he saw, heard, and felt. But the pain inevitably came, and the lack of air made him see everything through a thick haze he just couldn’t shake off. He was about to pass out.

Maybe it was better this way. If there was no longer a way for him to escape, then maybe he should at least not be awake when they killed him. He could just silently slip away into the darkness now, instead of kicking, screaming and crying at his captors. He wouldn’t have to see them drag him around the square, all of them mumbling, judging and rejoicing as they witnessed his death. People he’d grown up around. Who he’d known all his life. Who he had talked with, shared meals with, and had done chores for in order to get them to like him a little. They hadn’t been forgiving to his kind Mrs. Carshtin, so Luric should not expect any mercy for him. The townsfolk had always been mistrustful of him; the strange, sickly looking orphan that lived at school. And now they finally found their reason to get rid of him.

No, he wanted to be awake. Through all of it. To watch them as they watched him die. And if there really was something in him that could leave behind a curse, then he hoped with every fiber of his being that it was listening, because Luric wished them all the misery and heartache in the world. It was only fair.

He started struggling again, and put the last remnants of his strength and energy into thumping his fists against Baliger’s face. One black eye, that was all he was asking for. But his feeble flailing only pissed off Baliger even more, and his face somehow managed to distort further into grotesque fury. He raised his fist to strike Luric again, and this time Luric knew - knew from the way Baliger coiled his arm all the way back, to the way he balled up his hand so tightly that he could practically hear his skin creak, to the way he was shaking with anticipation - that he wasn’t going to survive this. Even if the force of this punch wasn’t going to splatter his brains all over the floor, Baliger was going to hit and hit until there would be nothing left of his head. He had seen what this man did with his pigs.

So much for cursing them to their faces. He wished he could do it from here, but right now he couldn’t even scrunch up enough malice to wish frog warts on them, because what he felt as he stared up at the large, fat fist that was about to end him was tired, defeated and sad.

He saw the fist twitch, and Luric closed his eyes.

Please, just let one be enough!

But the hit never came.

Luric felt Baliger’s body shake, and go suddenly still. He heard him give a disgruntled cry.

“Wha -?”

Luric opened his eyes. Above him he saw Baliger’s upper body twisted upwards, no longer facing him, head turned to look up at … a man. A man Luric didn’t recognize, but then again, he couldn’t get a good look at him from his position. He was standing right next to his head and towering over Baliger, who was blocking most of his view of the stranger. The figure from before?

Luric gazed up along the line of the long, black coat of the man, all the way up to his shoulders where his dark shape blended with the shadows on the ceiling. He followed it to the black-clad arm that had sprouted from his coat and was now gripping Baliger’s fist and keeping it in place.

A harsh, hoarse voice spoke.“What do you think you’re doing?”

Before Baliger could answer, another arm shot out, grabbed Baliger by the back of his tunic, hauled him up and tossed him out view so suddenly it took a moment for Luric to register the change in scenery. He barely had time to appreciate being able to breathe again, before the man turned and bend over him. He was now staring at an unfamiliar long, pale, hollow cheeked face scowling down at him. 

The man gave him a brief one over as if to assess the damage and then spoke again, just as harshly. “You’ll live."