You don't have time to think about much in this kind of situation.
Dust realizes with horror that if he only makes one mistake, he dies.
The two womens are already raising their weapons. Dust kicks the nearest one but this one barely take one step back from the impact.
He doesn't have time to worry about it because the other rushes at him.
he avoids the hit by retreating to his right.
Then in the chaos he notices the anomaly.
Where is the man?
His heart freezes at his sudden realization.
Dust turns.
The ax is already moving close to cutting his throat from left to right.
I should have crouched rather than turning around.
Think Dust.
fortunately his quick reflexes save him.
Even before he really understood the whole situation, his legs already move forward.
The blade only slices through the air, but the wooden handle hits him hard enough to hurt him.
Corner a dog and it will bite you, same goes for a human.
All of his fear, all of the adrenaline pumping through his veins turns to pure rage.
Why does he has to face this kind of hopeless situation again and again just to survive? Why must he struggle in the mud? Why does it hurt so much?
It is this anger that pushes him to try to thrust his knife into his enemy's chest.
But the stocky man is not someone who will die so easily. He grabs Dust's wrist just in time.
They stay there under the downpour, motionless.
The man needs more space between them to be able to hit him with the ax while Dust doesn't have enough strength to plunge his dagger into the rotting flesh.
His forearm is shaking, Dust's wound is still flowing with blood, between the black fingers nails that hold his wrist small red drops slips beteween the cracks.
The two womens behind the boy laugh. They laugh like hyenas ready to pounce on their dying prey.
Dust's eyes are wide open, his brown irises darkening.
Any second now and he's going to die.
He doesn't think when his hand opens wide to let his knife drop, he doesn't think either when his other hand, the free one, catches up with his falling weapon.
In fact, only one thought crosses his mind.
He has to act quickly, he has to be fast, efficient and above all decisive.
This is how he strikes this time, aiming for the man's carotid.
Too surprised to react, still holding the wrist of the injured arm and his ax in the other hand, the man does not have the chance to dodge.
The blade plunges into his vein and continues its way to his trachea.
he lets go, and the freed Dust dodges to his right.
Both womens scream in frustration, narrowly missing him.Their blade cutting nothing but some water drops.
The stocky man has fallen to his knees, his neck spitting blood so dark it's almost black in tandem with his slowing heartbeat.
With both hands he tries to squeeze his wound, to stop the bleeding.
But he spits blood instead of breathing.
In his black eyes Dust thinks he reads despair there.
I killed him?
Me?
The boy does not want and does not have time to dwell on this question.
Both womens pay no attention to their fallen partner.
Dust play a sinister game of cat and mouse between the trees with them. He can't outrun the two. And he can't attack because they are always ready to cover the other back, learning their lesson well with the example of the fallen man.
Little by little the boy manages to get closer to Suspicious' position while avoiding the blows.
The red-haired man is still struggling between the two teenagers.
The child remains on his side, holding his arm, which seems to have been dislocated.
Suspiscious doesn't seem to fear death.
He moves closer to the enemy his knife meeting his opponent's, his other arm forming a arc in the air, the lantern he is holding following his movement.
It is still lit, its flame illuminating the finely wrought iron, one of its corners striking precisely the brow bone of the teenager who wanted to attack Red while he was grappling with his friend.
if The cut was a few centimeters lower his eye would have been affected.
There are a few red drops that fall and it blurs his vision long enough
to crash into the teenager by surprise.
And Dust seizes the opportunity without hesitation.
The teenager is bluntly tackled and falls into the mud.
Dust doesn't have time to rejoice, the womens wont let him go.
They caught up with him.
Red succeeds in pushing his dagger into his opponent's shoulder, Dust see the man pull it out of the half-rotten flesh .
Without further emotion, the man drops his lantern with his other hand and grab the teenager's tangled hair to yank his head back before plunging his blade into his eye this time.
He puts so much force into it that the weapon pierces the eye socket and goes far enough that all you can see is the handle above his pale cheekbone.
The teenager dies while emitting a bawl so unsettling that even after it ended, it stilll managed to play on repeat in the head of Dust.
He was just a kid...
The monstrousness of the situation is seen but doesn't have the ability to impact the boy immediately because the danger drowns his senses.
Dust slips behind a tree trunk, the dagger held by the woman who attacked scraping his skin and digging into the bark.
The second one holds out her hand like the claws of an eagle, her black fingernails wanting to grab him by the collar as she brandishes her weapon with the other.
The boy no longer knows where to dodge.
Everything seemed so unreal.
His eyes are black with fear and yet he remains adamant.
He tries to kick again but she manages to aviod it slipping away like a snake.
The other is behind him, he knows it.
He steps aside, which allows him to save his neck. However, the iron dips above his collarbone.
He pushes her away, his teeths clenched.
It hurts so much.
he staggers beside Red holding his wound. The two furies on his heels.
His hot blood flows between his fingers.
Did it hit a major vein?
Do we still have a chance?
His companion gives him a look as he takes advantage of the last teenager's hesitation to quickly retrieve his dagger so deeply lodged in the gouged out eye.
His victim is dying or already dead, the body at his feet quivering because of nerves.
Dust takes a deep breath.
He comes up to Red and the two now find themselves with 4 more enemies if we include the child out of the way.
they look at each other.
Dust doubts they'll both survive whatever comes next.
To tell the truth, if he hadn't brought the two womens back, Suspiscious could have left.
But then the boy would have been alone with the 4, and Dust doesn't need to be a genius to know he'd be more than in trouble.
Here it is a choice he made consciously.
He cannot find an excuse for his actions.
He wants to force Suspicious to fight by his side to increase his chances of survival even if it means risking both of them dying.
Worse still, at this precise moment he hesitates.
Rain runs down his temples as he contemplates his possibilities.
Their 4 attackers move slowly towards them. With small steps. The tension is growing.
he hesitates. Yes.
3 possibilities exist;
1. they both fight and come what may come.
2. Suspicious runs fast and is unhurt. He has already been very frank with Dust, if his life is in danger he will save his neck first. So he might just leave him there and walk away.
3. Dust anticipates hypothesis 2 and leaves first, hoping that the group attacking them does not divide to pursue him or that Red does not understand quickly enough to clear off at the same time as him.
To prevent it, he could trip the man or hurt him with his knife enough to slow him down.
So while the four attacks Red, Dust can flee.
If he chooses hypothesis 3 the boy thinks that he has a better chance of keeping his life.
But he also need to abandon Red to do so...
This same man who has already saved his life twice.
So Dust hesitates.
And as he hesitates in front of his 3 possibilities, what he will choose becomes clearer and clearer.
Out of the corner of his eye he observes Red. he is getting closer from the man.
Then, above the bushes, and through the rain, a white feather appears accompanied by the sound of footsteps.
The scene is so incongruous that Dust relaxes his grip on the handle of his knife a little.
After the feather a hat.
The man with the bayonet? No!
-Red! The guy with the gun is there.
Red does not have time to answer him that the man is already totally visible behind his tall body the girl with the flower crown and 4 other villagers.
Against all odds they do not attack them right away.
Better yet, they don't seem to be on good terms with the two womens.
They look at each other like some dogs gang ready to tear their faces apart under the rain.
Only the little girl moves to crouch next to the stocky man killed by Dust..
When she tries to cut off his head, it's like the cannon shot that declares war.
The two womens and the teenager rush in their direction. Like predators defending their prey against scavengers.
The man with the gun advances to meet their attack.
Dust turns around not believing in this priceless chance, but certainly ready to seize it.
While they are distracted leave!
He rushes forward but stops when he realizes that Red isn't following.
Hesitantly he turns his head and sees his companion one foot on the neck of the dead teenager slashing his neck.
He does it quickly and with amazing strength. When the blade sinks it looks like a saw cutting a log. The blood is everywhere.
Dust is petrified.
To his left he hears the furious hissing and shouting of those struggling and to his right Suspiscious smacks the poor dead boy on the back of the neck.
He is trying to smash the cervical vertebra think Dust almost detached. The scene is so shocking, deranged and surprising that he has a little episode where he wonders if he is having a nightmare.
It looks so unreal.
But no, Red now has his hand blackened with dripping blood and at the end of this hand he is holding the black hair of this dead teenager.
His head twitches, his remaining eye opening and closing his eyelid mechanically, his badly cut neck has one end of its vertebra sticking out.
Red runs past Dust's wide-open eyes while yelling at him:
-Take the lantern!
Dust runs.
They both go deep into the forest.
Once far enough, and once sure not to be followed, they slow down in an icy silence.
It's been a while since Dust has been walking and running around without having anything to eat. Blisters have formed on his feets and he is coughing more and more.
Yet he did not complain, he did not dare.
Only when Red gets too tired does he offer to find a place to rest.
He really can't take it anymore.
Between two fallen trunks, they placed branches to form a roof , which they covered with bits of fabric collected from the huts and on top some wet dead leaves.
The rain has stopped.
They lay down next to each other.
The wounds of Dust are just rudely tied by some dusty fabric. It doesn't seem to endanger his life for now.
They closed the space between the two trunks with rocks of modest size at the front blocking the entry and the light.
It is a hiding place which resembles a tomb; it's tight, you can't see the sky anymore and it's cold.
Dust can smell the coppery odor emanating from the bloody head Suspicious still holds in his arms.
He dares not say anything.