A whistling wind from the north came bearing light chill, twisting by the hills as it stirred up dusty red sand on rocky ground. It took the haze of clouds with it on its journey south and left a dark sky full of stars and a pale half-moon behind. The silver-blue moonlight rippled at the tip of Becker's sword held in front of him with a liquid glimmer.

Becker took heavy nervous breaths, taking quick glances all around him unwilling to miss any detail. But the three grey lions still eluded him, always fleeting from shadow to shadow just out of his sight.

They wanted to kill him, bite his neck and leave him bleeding as they had done to the beast he’d rode on. They wanted to do more, to tear him from limb to limb, take revenge for the death of their companions, but his sharp sword kept them at bay. It’s one slash nearly sliced off the limb of their injured companion who was a bit slower when they attacked the horse.

They had to wait! Wait or the perfect opportunity, a momentary lapse in this two-leg's vigilance. That would be when they charge him.

Becker knew their intention. Nervous sweat made his palm slippery. it was fortunate the grip of the sword wasn't one of those fancy ones the rich knights used, or it could slip from his hand. he took another glance at his surroundings and barely caught a half tail disappear behind a boulder. He moved his sword that way.

He shouldn’t have charged in alone. Now he might have to pay the price of that with his life.

He didn’t know whose horse he rode. It lay ten or so yards away, its legs jerking from time to time as blood, glistening black in the moonlight, flowed from it’s torn neck.

Becker bit down on his lips hard enough to taste blood. It was dying because of him. If he hadn’t ridden it- if only he had waited for others

Now he couldn’t even spare the time to end its suffering.

Would its rider feel the same pain as him? Would he feel the same anger when he saw his closest companion for so many years lying dead before his very eyes?

He clenched his sword hard. A trace fury as sharp as his sword flashed through his eyes. He would see an end of those vicious grey lions.

The momentary rising of his spirit created a gap in his vigilance. It was a tiny gap, lasting only a fraction of a second, but that was all the time the oldest grey lion needed to find his window of opportunity. It crouched, tightening his muscles and bending his body like a spring, and then it leapt into the air, forelegs stretched forward, eight hook-like claws gleaming in the moonlight.

Becker whirled around by instinct, the creature was upon him. He thrust his left hand into the waiting mouth aiming for his neck. The creature’s jaws snapped down, fangs clashing against his greaves. He fell with the beast on top of him, its claws tore at him. he was lucky to have his armour on, or he would be a mangled corpse soon. The beast's claws swiped, leaving three long, bleeding gashes across his face.

He madly waved his sword about around him, trying to keep the other two lizards at bay. But he knew he couldn’t keep this struggle going for long. If he couldn't get rid of the lizard pressing him down, he would die painfully, torn alive by the fangs and claws of these beasts.

He really shouldn’t have come alone.

His felt another lizard bite down on his sword arm and pin it to the ground. he felt the other chomp down on his thigh.

Becker hissed in pain. his thighs didn't have armour.

The oldest one took his opportunity and pressed his clawed foreleg on the left hand, holding it in place. Its jaws became free, ready for their main target. Becker's neck. It just had to pry off the armour there.

Revenge was in its sight. But it had to hurry, the noise of many horse hooves was coming like a landslide. Many dancing lights torches too. It had to end this human before they arrive.

Becker couldn’t hear the approaching horses, all his senses focused on the creatures yellow eyes, its open jaws and gleaming fangs. Was he going to die? A knight of Moras, dying in the hands of a beast? He didn’t want that, such a disgrace.

He cried out, putting all his effort into tearing his sword hand free. He failed. He had to think of something. Yes! His wrist. He put his effort and bent his wrist. He brought his sword above the lizard on top of him. Its sharp edge shone beyond the body of the beast. Just half a feet more would be enough, but his wrist refused to bend more. The beasts fangs tore through the piece of leather protecting his neck and neared the skin. Becker opened his fingers and let the sword go. It fell straight down like the blade of a guillotine and with a thunk, its razor-sharp edge sunk into its spine. It cut in just half an inch. The blade wasn’t heavy enough for more than that. But it was enough.

It jerked back in pain. Becker took the opportunity. With an animalistic howl, he yanked free his left hand and thrust them forward again. His fingers clamped around the neck of the beast, like eagle claws. With all the force he could master he rolled around, nearly dislocating his right hand. He pinned the oldest grey lion beneath him. The sword dislodged from its back and clattered away to the side.

For some reason, the lizard attacking his thigh had let go of him. But he had no time to pay attention to that. It took an unholy amount of effort for him to keep the creature pinned under him. The old lizard wheezed, trying to breathe through the force crushing its windpipe. It flailed around its legs and tail to escape his clutch. one of its desperate claws swiped against at Becker’s face, burning pain filled the left side of his face. The pain burned through his left eye, turning its vision dark.

What was that caught on the creature's claws? Was that an eyeball? Was that his eyeball?

A raw scream tore its way out of Becker’s throat. The shock fueled his rage and boiled his blood. His fingers became tighter and tighter around the beast’s neck. Blood mixed with sweat flowed down his hair, chin and neck, reddening his cloth. Breath came through his teeth with a shower of spittles and a deep, guttural growl. The grey lion’s struggle became weaker and weaker and when Becker felt its neck cave in under his fingers, it stopped. Its body slacked and its long narrow tongue rolled out of its mouth.

Becker let go of it and turned around. The threat wasn’t over yet. Where are the other lizards? Well? Why had they stopped their assault?

The answer came in the form of people riding horses surrounding his field of battle in a circle. The two lizards which had attempted escape, lay dead with the spears of the mercenaries impaling their bodies.

Relief surged through becker as he laid back on the ground. He breathed like a whale as all the pain in the world rushed back to his whole body. He looked at the riders, the torches in their hands lit up their faces, all making funny faces.

Well, they seemed funny to Becker, but the mercenaries and the knight Rick leading them, all felt complicated emotions. Some felt mild admiration as they had watched the struggle of this young man against the beast. Some were rather disgusted at the sight of all this blood and gore, all from the body of the young knight. The beasts died without shedding too much blood.

And Rick? Rick was angry. The fool ruined himself in his recklessness!

“Well, look at him prancing around, proud as a peacock’s tail. Does he think ‘Becker the grey lion slayer’ has a nice ring to it? No? Cause it doesn’t. It sounds dumb.”

Erhan nearly spurted out a mouthful of soup at the young mercenary Josh’s latest comment.

They were sitting down on boulders for breakfast, well out of earshot of Sena and his knights who were talking with Becker, standing with his chest out and chin raised. He was pretty proud of his triumph over the beast and made that fact no secret. Four days had passed and the wounds on his body and face had left only pale scars. Only the eye patch covering his left eye a testament of his loss. Erhan had done all he could at Sena’s incessant request, but it was beyond even his ability to heal. Regrowing lost body parts, it was something few could do.

But that didn’t bother Becker. He was satisfied, being able to take revenge against those beasts for killing his horse. He was a bit sad. having two eyes was always better than one. Still, much better than losing his life.

Only, his fellow knights and lady Sena’s scoldings stung him a bit. It was understandable though, especially for Sena. Her journey this time seemed to be full of one trouble after another. Becker felt pity for their young captain.

Sena sighed and left the knights, she walked beside Erhan and sat down. “Thank you for healing him,” she said to him.

Seeing her sit beside him, the few mercenaries sitting with him got up, walking away in different directions.

Erhan ran his fingers through messy hair. “That’s the umpteenth time,” he said to the woman who, for some unknown reason had become somewhat stuck to him, always following him around. “It’s enough thanks to last a lifetime.”

“But you did do a great service to the house of Moras. And for me too, since I can’t imagine losing even one of them under my watch.” he turned to look at the knights who were conversing among themselves. “Most of them were no more than acquaintances when we started. But now...” She sighed. “I’m not cut out to be a leader.”

He gave her a quizzical look as he put away the empty bowl. “then why become one?” he asked.

“Not like I had a choice,” Sena said with a chuckle. “The rest of the children were too young. The oldest one was sixteen. And the two cousins who are older than me are too old. They are serving in the army. Only I fit all the categories, well, most of them at least.”

“Why? They couldn’t choose one of those knights?”

Sena gave him a sharp look and said with a sense of graveness. “A warrior house has its pride to consider. Putting someone who doesn’t Carry the Moras name in such a position is disgraceful.”

Erhan laughed in ridicule. someone said well, 'A noble and a knight and their foolish pride'.

“Why are you laughing? Do you think it’s a laughing matter?” said Sena, her brows creased due to anger.

Erhan said nothing and observed Sena’s face with interest.

“What are you staring at?” Sena asked with a look of suspicion as she ran her palm over her face. “Is there something on my face?”

“By any chance do you know Arya Sikhra?” Erhan asked, not really expecting anything.

Sena’s grey eyes grew big with surprise. “How do you know her?”

“So you are related to her, huh,” Erhan gave a knowing nod. He tilted his head, looking at the workers put away the camp as they redied the caravan for its last travel through these rocky hills. “she was one of my friends. People I used to go on adventures with.” he stood up and took his staff from its resting place beside the boulder. “We got along the best, me and her, us being the same age and all.”

“Impossible!” Sena sprang up from her seat, her face an image of incredulity. “She is my grandma! You two can't be the same age. Stop speaking nonsense.”

Erhan smiled at her, shrugging, and walked towards his cart, leaving Sena staring at his back with an incomprehensible expression.