It had taken Samuel more than a few moments to process what the stranger above him was saying, and what it meant. Only slowly did the realisation hit that the gang he’d been facing had been sent off; that this person had somehow managed to save him from the mother of all beatings. After realising this, it still took him a couple more moments of lying there before he worked up the courage to think about getting up. Now that the danger had passed Samuel could feel embarrassment begin to creep in. What it must look like, him curled up like a baby. At his age!

Finally, Samuel slowly craned his head around and opened his eyes. His eye that wasn’t still obscured by his bent arms immediately caught on another’s face. ‘So this is my rescuer then,’ he thought to himself as he let himself take a moment to consider the stranger’s countenance. A few years older than Samuel, not too many though, although the skin was slightly more weathered than was usual. Strong chin, straight nose, golden eyes, Samuel presumed that most people would consider the man to be handsome!

The crouching figure quickly stood up, taking the face with it and leaving Samuel staring instead at some kind of long, rough, black skirt. With a determination he didn’t really feel, but fuelled by mild curiosity, Samuel finally unfurled himself from the ground and pulled himself to his feet.

His rescuer stood several inches taller than him, and he wasn’t wearing a skirt, rather it was some sort of long black robe that went from a high, tight neck and continued down to the floor, a cloth belt drawing it in around a narrowed waist. It unsettled Samuel, the cut of the clothing, it didn’t seem like something he’d see anyone around here wearing. It seemed to hide the person underneath, to make them invisible in some way, as though they were always just passing by. You wouldn’t think to stop this person, or to remember them.

“What are you wearing,” Samuel asked, unable to help himself.

The stranger’s lips pulled into a half-smile, maybe the start of a laugh. “That’s a strange way to begin thanking someone who’s just rescued you isn’t it?”

Samuel blushed for a moment. It had been the wrong way to start, but at the same time he also felt a flash of irritation that this stranger who didn’t even know him would call him out on it. “Thank you,” he ground out, his teeth clenching.

“You’re very welcome, I’m glad I was here. Will you be all right to get home from here? I don’t think they’re coming back, they ran off pretty quickly.”

The stranger was so generous in his speech that Samuel wanted to vomit. He didn’t know who this person was, but there was something that made him take a near instant dislike to him. He was so cool and calm, so collected. He probably hadn’t ever had to find out what it’s like to be jumped unawares. He was the sort of person who would always be aware, and let you know all about it.

“I’ll be fine, I can get home from here, please, don’t let me stop you from what you’re doing,” Samuel offered with just a hint of sarcasm.

“I’m pleased, I’ll be off then, try not to get into any more trouble today.”

With that parting jab to Samuel’s ego the stranger walked straight past him. Flabbergasted, Samuel turned to watch him go, seeing him disappear inside one of the outer buildings without turning back even once. Samuel couldn’t understand it, he was at a loss, his eyes lingered on the doorway the man had disappeared into. Letting out his breath, his eyes flicked once more to the far vista, his mind so caught up with the strange man, and the strange clothes that he only vaguely registered The Edge before him.

‘The Edge,’ he thought to himself, as his mind wandered over the remembered contours of a face with golden eyes, and his fingers massaged his temple, and he worried at his scabbing lip. Realisation, when it came, was quick and brutal; you could have heard the sound of the whiplash as Samuel’s head spun from the wide skies and wilderness to the narrow dim, dingy doorway through which the black-robed figure had swept through a few moments before. Samuel felt the anger bubble up in him at that moment, as his gaze hardened and his shoulders set. This was something he hadn’t felt when Vince had approached him spoiling for a fight, why would it, Vince was pathetic, a bully and a brute, nothing to waste one’s anger on. No, in Samuel’s world anger was reserved for very particular people, people who could actually do real damage; and one of those people had just disappeared through that very doorway.

“A Black Dragon!”