…He lowered the bow, staring at the arrow that almost hit the distant mark.

Almost.

He winced in premonition – and, yeah, the expected hard cuff on the nape came immediately.

"You crooked-armed goblin," his mentor growled. "Don't you even open your eyes when you shoot, huh? Another blunder like that, and I'm done wasting my time with you!"

The boy grinned, but didn't answer. He got used to those threats. After all, the trapper was 'wasting his time' with him for three years already. Most of the time they were hunting along the Mere. Sometimes even made it to the Sword Mountains, killing some orcs. Orcs were a common problem of Redfallow's Watch. They rarely attacked the village on purpose, just hung about sometimes. Well, and got killed.

Now and then the two of them travelled to nearby towns and villages, where his mentor made money on selling furs. Once they arrived in time for some kind of a festival, and, while the trapper was busy making deals, the boy out of boredom got engaged in shooting contest. He won the second prize – considering that he was only nine, while other participants were grown-ups, the achievement was impressive. So impressive that he pissed off some of the local boys. They cornered him in the alleyway, posturing predictably in a way that should have made him feel that they were the tough guys here, and not some alien upstart. As if he cared for some stupid childish ranks.

"Yeah, sure," he answered them that time snidely. "Definitely made all my way here just to make you feel losers."

Of course they started a fight. Or tried to, because he actually put an end to it quickly, breaking face to one, arm to another, and the rest thought better of bulling him any further. At least they had that much sense. Maybe, got the feeling that he actually didn't mind killing them too much.

And he didn't, in fact.

He left the alleyway grinning at their stupidity. It was then when he caught sight of a man in black leathers watching him thoughtfully. He glared at the man, wondering what in the Hells he wanted from him, but there was no emotions on the stony face of the man – and then he suddenly turned around and just disappeared in the crowd. Feeling himself kind of puzzled, the boy mentioned the man to the trapper. His mentor shrugged, looking just as puzzled, but something grim appeared in his features. Well, grimmer than usual.

They left the same day. Somewhat in a hurry.

Mom never traveled with them, but each time they came back she enjoyed listening to the boy's stories about what they had seen, done or encountered on their way. Even more so, the boy got the impression that she enjoyed the fact that after becoming his mentor, the hunter used to stay for the night at their house more often than before.

She also liked to listen about his 'studies', his progress and achievements. When she asked the trapper if the boy was indeed as good as he described himself, the trapper would only give the boy a pat on the shoulder and grin:

"He's a smart wolfie."

Those words made the boy smile almost proudly. Mom seemed pleased with that as well.

"Good," she used to tell him. "Maybe you'll be able to get out of this gods-forsaken hole and settle down somewhere better."

The boy didn't answer. Not that he minded leaving Redfallow's Watch one day - surely, there were a lot of other places in the world better than this small dirty swamp village. Actually, sometimes he thought that any place was better. But for now he enjoyed their strange union of the three – he, his mom and his teacher. As if they had a small world of their own.

Others continued to avoid them. The fact that the trapper took the boy as his apprentice added no affection to both of them.

"No wonder," people said. "One psycho drew the other."

Showed how much they all knew.

Neither of them cared for those words. The boy just grinned at them, and somehow that wordless wry smile of his scared them and made lapse into silence. He wasn't about to harm any of them – really, to wish somebody dead or hurt you should have at least some feelings towards the person. Even hatred and anger are feelings.

But for the people of their village the boy felt nothing. Nothing at all. And hoped that they wouldn't be as foolish as to change that.

They were.

ooooo

"What in the Hells is going on there?" Mom whispered, coming out of the bedroom.

The boy cast a quick glance at her and shrugged. The noise outside had probably woken her up as well. He himself was awake for several minutes already, standing by the window and watching what was happening in the street.

Heavy rain was pouring, making it hard to distinguish something. Though he caught sight of several dark figures moving swiftly through the village. They entered buildings, dragged people out into the rain, bunching them all to a sleepy scared flock in the middle of the street. One of them was strolling along the crowd, pushing some folks aside, appraising others, as if looking for someone. All kids were driven together a bit aside and inspected with the same thorough.

The boy had once seen cattle been bunched by only a few of butchers. Somehow the scene before his eyes looked exactly the same.

Their own house stood some distance away from the road, so the boy figured it would take some time for the strangers to get to it. He pursed his lips, reaching for his bow that was leaned against the wall not far from him.

"Damn," he heard Mom's cursing above his shoulder and raised his head. Her face was white, eyes narrowed almost to slits. "Luskan recruiters," she grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed towards the kitchen. "You go to the cellar, quickly. I-"

She wasn't able to finish, as the door slammed open, and Mom only managed to shove the boy to the corner behind the fireplace. But that appeared to be unnecessary, as he understood from Mom's breath of relief.

"Need to leave," he heard familiar harsh voice and peeped out from behind the fireplace. The trapper gave him a short acknowledging smirk, then looked back at Mom. "Now."

She nodded, already moving along the house, frantically collecting some things into a bag. The hunter advanced the window, looking out carefully, his fingers stroking the string of his own bow slowly.

"Make haste," he hissed.

"How did you get here?" Mom asked as she took down from the wall the sheath with her sword she kept for self-defense.

"Came across their trace in the Mere," the trapper answered, still scanning the street out of the window. "Thought to get here before them, but…"

The boy flung the quiver on his shoulder, then suddenly a glimpse of memory came to his mind. The man in black, watching him.

"They'll take me, huh?" he wondered.

The trapper turned his head quickly, pinning the boy to the floor with his one-eyed glare.

"They won't," he stated.

"Ahh, he gives a damn," Mom grinned, putting on a cloak.

The hunter regarded her with another glare that only made her grin get wider.

"Back door," he snapped. "Get moving."

He waited for them to get to the back door, then followed himself. The front door creaked behind them, and the boy looked back for a second, enough to see a man in dark armor enter, then shrink back with an arrow blossoming in his eye socket, rainwater washing away blood from his face as he fell – and the next second the boy himself was pushed into the rain, and the trapper shut the door, leaving the three of them outside.

Making as little noise as possible they slipped into the night and rain, the trapper looking out for anyone to follow them or keep watch somewhere nearby. The boy heard a distant scream and looked up at Mom. Her face was fixed, she was silent.

"Why isn't anyone stopping them?" he whispered. "There are a lot of people and only few of them."

She snorted quietly from under the hood of her cloak: "…Beats me as well, sweetie."

He turned back to his mentor: "Let's kill them."

"Smartass again, huh?" the trapper shook his head. "Too smartass to deal with Luskans yet. Let's just get you out of here for a start," even as he spoke, his gaze darted around, scanning for dangers. "As far away from here as possible."

"West Harbor?" Mom suggested as they headed down the hill into the Mere. "Heard they are a tough bunch," something dark and bitter crept into her voice. "They probably won't allow some bastards to take their children away."

"We'll see. So… killing Luskans is for some other time, wolfie," he was silent for a second to the accompaniment of the rain, then added. "Maybe."

The boy didn't like that 'maybe', but before he could give much thought to it a panic shout came from behind:

"There they are! That boy you wanted!"

"…Shit!" the trapper spat out, turning on his heels. "You two get out!"

The boy wanted to protest, but Mom grabbed him by the shoulder and darted off – so he had no choice but follow her scampering.

He concentrated on keeping his breathing in check.

The rain pattered against their cloaks, muffling the sound of their rash footsteps, its drops blending with silent tears on Mom's face…

ooooo

They never made it.

No matter how fast they ran – every time they came to a halt they realized they were followed. Methodically, relentlessly, insensibly - they were followed.

"Why do they want me so much?" the boy wondered.

Mom was leaning against the tree, breathless, exhausted, her dark-red hair curling wildly around her face, lips parted and dry – yet she managed to grin at him like she had always done:

"Guess, even the Luskans felt that you are the one and only, sweetie," she sighed and weighed her sword in her hand meditatively.

The boy didn't like that.

"We need to go," he said quietly.

"Nah, sweetie, Mom's too tired," she smiled at him. "Go. I'll try to play for time."

He blinked, feeling his eyes become strange… heavy and prickly.

"You'll die," he said.

"And you won't," she replied, suddenly sharply. "Heard me? You won't."

He blinked again.

"…Alright. I won't."

"Good," she planted a hard kiss on his forehead, then shoved him away. "Now go."

And he went. Went on running.

As he ran, he wished so hard not to hear her last scream.

Yet he did.

ooooo

He knew it was all over, because he fell and broke his leg. Somehow he managed to climb on the tree and just sat there, among the leaves, his bow at ready, his eyes roaming over the clearing below. He knew they were there. He felt them, though couldn't see them.

Well, they couldn't see him either. He would have been proud of the fact that he made them nervous – if he gave a damn, that is.

His leg became swollen and numb with pain. He couldn't even scratch it because he knew that any sound or movement would give out his location. The only things that moved were his eyes… and his thoughts.

He didn't want to think, trying to concentrate on looking out – but he couldn't help it.

He had Mom, he had mentor. Now he hadn't. It seemed so simple to understand. Why couldn't he? Why in the Hells it felt so wrong?

Why had those people in the village behaved like cattle? Like animals? No, not like animals. Even the rabbit kicks and makes a racket when you catch it or try to kill it. Why hadn't they?

Why had that man shouted about them leaving? Did he want Luskans to get them? If he did… why? Did he think that Luskans would leave him alive for that? Did they leave him alive?

If those people figured out that Luskans came for him – why hadn't anybody even bothered to try and warn him and Mom? Did they all hate them so much? Why? Because Mom didn't mind being a whore? Because he didn't want to play nice boy with people he never liked?

It felt so stupid. And so wrong. So wrong.

The boy blinked, looking up, at the sun emerging from behind the tree-tops, gilding the eternal silver mist of the Mere.

"Why?" he asked at the sun.

The same moment a tiny dart pierced his neck, and he felt intensive burning starting to course through his blood, making his whole body torpid.

Poison, - he thought, falling off the tree-branch, and mentally cuffed himself on the nape, like his mentor had done. – Dolt, you shouldn't have opened your stupid mouth!

He dropped on his back in the moss, but barely felt a thing as his nerves were deadened with venom.

"Gotcha," he heard a cold satisfied voice.

"Careful, we need him alive," another voice said.

"What so special about this one anyway?" third voice.

"The watcher said there was something about him."

"Not our place to think. Let the Hosttowers think."

"Then just tie him up and let's get moving. If he screams, gag him."

The boy couldn't even turn his head to see the speakers – and neither wanted to, for that matter. He felt so angry at himself for his own stupidity and carelessness, that the anger actually cleared his thoughts a little. Freed his brain from all those useless questions no one would ever answer.

So he just stared at the sky and made himself think. He needed to think. He needed a plan. If he wanted to live, he needed a plan.

Luskans wouldn't kill him, that's for sure. Which was already good. Wasn't it? After all those chasing, and Redfallow's Watch stupidity – he will be alive.

He will be.

A dark figure appeared before his eyes, standing in his sunlight, and the boy narrowed his eyes. He couldn't make out the face under the hood, just a black featureless silhouette.

"Will you scream?" the voice out of the hood wondered. There were no emotions in that voice.

"Will it help?" the boy whispered sarcastically.

There was a pause, and the figure chuckled humorlessly:

"…No."

"Then what's the point?"

The Luskan didn't come up with an answer.

Suddenly he thought out quite a suitable plan.

Yes, they killed his mentor. Yes, they killed his Mom. Swiftly, in cold blood. Yes, he hated them. Just like he hated all those fools who had allowed this shit to happen. There was nothing he could do about it at the moment. Even if he weren't paralyzed with poison, still these men were much better killers.

But they would take him with them. They would teach him to kill. Swiftly, in cold blood. These stupid murderers themselves would make him more than a match for them. And when they did… he'd come back.

He would.

Who cared about all those "why"? Who cared if he could actually simply make all that bullshit not to be?

The boy grinned.

"Now there's a crazy smile," the Luskan muttered under his breath…