Dance with the Devil

If he was a thief in his parents camp, he knew how they would have responded. He has watched them do it once. They had broken three of four legs, and watched their victim struggle to drag themselves on their last remaining one. It had not been fast. If the box was anything to go by, this black demon did not intend to make it fast, either.

He had made a mistake coming here. He had stolen from the wrong people. He wanted to be strong enough to take and not give a damn about the consequences. His captor told him to speak up, and Strai did not shy from the challenge. He threw himself forward, lunging for the door of the box. His scrawny weight was pathetic. It barely rattled from the impact. "Fight me like a man!" He cried, the words undermined by the cracking of his adolescent voice.