"Frog!" Yolk barked, his fingers curled around so hard as if choking the hilt of his sword. His eyes once calm and resolved, yet an energetic leader, evolved to those of a fiery rage as veins bulged.
"Ha! Look! Look all. To the face of a man, a weak merchant, pitiful, like a dog!" Frogface mocked, his fat belly swinging left to right. The sound of rain overwritten by laughter of cutthroats.
"Fr-frog…" Hans called, his pupils weakening, a sign that the wounds were taking their tolls on him.
Frogface smiled upon Hans' calling.
"Hans… Hans… you were once a brother of mine,"
"Once…" Hans rebutted.
"Yes, once. What a shame o what a shame," his lullabies came from his wide foul mouth, sung as he stepped forward.
Yolk's body trembled.
A step, then another, the man took, toward the injured Hans. In his hand, a dagger with metal that shone brightly and a grip of gold.
