Runt was not surprised to see Barghest before him. In his short run away from the hound, and the time spent travelling with it, Runt had learned that the dog could travel surprisingly quickly. Nor was he surprised that the wound that the ghoul had inflicted had not been enough to keep the hound down. Runt had always been one to obsess over traps. Over lapses in attention or blindspots that could be taken advantage of. He knew assuming Barghest had been mortally wounded was a trap he was setting himself up for. Runt was aware of his lack of knowledge, and was smart enough to stop himself from making assumptions. He knew Barghest was more than what he looked to be, why would he assume a simple claw or a bite would be enough to keep the hound down?

And so Barghest’s presence was not a surprise, but the attitude Runt was addressed with was. Runt sensed none of that begrudging politeness from his earlier encounters. There was no snide remarks, no simmering dislike. It was cold. As though a former hatred had congealed and settled in a way that left none of the original flame. Barghest’s voice was measured, kept above a growl by only a handful of degrees. It was frigid, almost emotionless. The gaze that peered over the flame, brown pools hat reflected more light than they took in, let nothing slip. As the corpse of the creature between them blazed, a victory that should have brought them together, Runt could feel the weight of judgment from Barghest. Eyes that could see through him, that could watch his past in snippets, were weighing their options. They and the beast they were attached to were debating their options.

Barghest finally cut through the tension, a sigh that seemed to shake the logs beneath their feet. The shaggy dog’s fur rippling as it shook itself. The rain that still dripped on them would dampen the fur again shortly, but the reflex had seemed automatic. Something that had been held back only to be released with a sudden relaxation. Runt’s fingers dug into the fur of the dog that stood beside him, lifting himself up to his full height. He tried to posture, to showcase more strength than he had left in his limbs, only for his shaking body to take away much of the effect.

“You’ve completed your task. You helped me. More than I thought you would, but less than I wished. Oh, I would have very much preferred it to be your corpse to join the creature on the pyre, but I guess that’s the danger with dealing with one such as yourself. You give with one hand, and snatch with the other. You defend children, and doom another to defend yourself. You fight and scramble to live, at the cost of two lives tonight. One of mine, and another of my wards. Both lives worth more than yours swamp dweller.” Barghest snarled, catching Runt’s mouth before it could fully open. The goblin clamping his defence down before he angered the beast any further. Runt was aware of the dozen eyes that surrounded him. Alley dogs, tough and bedraggled dogs that hunted his kind on nights like this. Held back only by the presence of Barghest.

“A family that will go without a protector, children who may be lost to these slums without it. A city that lost itself a warden, a fellow in my purpose. One who I watched night after night. A good woman. Someone this city will feel missing. Your aid was appreciated, but the cost is not. It’s far more than what we bargained for greenskin. I was a fool. You were to be a distraction, a stolen moment giving me a moment to strike, but you outlived your purpose the moment that distraction had been spent.”

Barghest sighed again, shaking his head from one side to another as though they were trying to dislodge a particularly sticky thought, “But you surprised me. You protected two children, and I suppose that is enough for me to forgive the worst of your transgressions. You will never be welcome in Mirefort greenskin, but the city does owe you a debt.”

A nudge under his arm caught Runt’s attention, the goblin startling for a moment, a large jowled head dropping a ragged sack by his feet. Through the holes in the fabric Runt spotted a veritable treasure trove. More food than he had ever collected, deposited in a burlap bag. Before any of the beasts around him could snatch it, Runt gathered it into his free hand and tucked it under one arm. Wafting aromas drifted on the breeze forcing drool to drip from his teeth. Stale bread. Rotten meat. The pungent odour of cheese that had gone bad twice. A feast was within his hands, payment that the motes floating around Barghest's paw forced him to pay.

“Every return visit you make to my city, state my name and call me to you. Instead of thieving from those who cannot give, I will have a bag such as this readied for you. Until the day you die,” a pause, a threat that didn’t go over Runt’s head, “And a name. One of your kind you would have me do away with.”

A grin crossed Runt’s face, bloodied teeth glimmering as his thoughts slowly tumbled within his mind. He was still reeling from his victory. His mind still catching up with the fact that the creature from his nightmares had been slain. Only now, as the offer of a murder floated above him, did he allow the feeling to seep in. The stress, the nervousness, the fear all flowed out of him. A cackling laugh rang in the night air, bloodthirsty and raw with all the spent energy of that night. The euphoria of a true victory. In all senses of the word, this was Runt’s victory. His wounds would heal, his mind would adapt, but this win would never fade.

For a being who had never had a win tainted by their own kind, the rush of a true victory was addicting. A deal he had made, paid for in blood and pain, had come through in the end. He held power in his hand now. True power. Real power. And he aimed to make use of it. Rapidly plans began forming within his mind, twisting and grasping at the tool he had now been offered. Barghest watched him impassively, wary but otherwise patient. The hound allowing Runt to ponder on what must surely have been one of the biggest decisions of his life.

Barghest was a simple being. Born from the life of the hounds he guided, his thought processes and needs were very simple. He kept the dogs of the city as healthy as possible, guided them to dry spots to sleep in, the best places to beg or root through trash. He had the mindset of a stray and a guard dog. One who begged and whimpered, but loved and adored the humans that treated him right. He had all the memories of the dogs that had passed within his realm, and all of their instincts. That he was a spirit didn’t change the root of who he was, just the method and the scale. Instead of protecting a single home, he claimed a neighbourhood. His pack wasn’t a small family, but all of the beings who lived in the slums. He hated all that threatened them, but not much else. He had no dreams, no ambition or thoughts of a more lofty future. Despite his bedraggled look and half starved flesh, Barghest was content.

As such he had no idea the thoughts that crossed through Runt’s mind in that moment, but he didn’t very much care to learn either. Canines had a loyalty that Runt and his kind could never understand. A binding force that allowed them to come together and manifest Barghest as their representative. Barghest could not understand the urge to kill one of your own. On a fundamental level it went against all that he was. But as he stated before, he had no qualms in killing the vermin that nipped at his heels.

Runt stopped his plotting, ideas flickering in his mind before he turned to address Barghest. “What would it take...how much of a deal do we need to make for me to name two, and for you to go after both?” Runt asked, greed flickering in his mind. His voice was measured but even Barghest recognized the glee within it, the excitement, the chomping at the bit for a chance to make an impact.

There was a pause, a moment that stretched between the two before Barghest responded. “A life for a life. I’ll kill another for you, for a life I deem worthy of saving.” there was a pause, a hesitation to the hounds voice. Slowly he processed his own thoughts, his own ideas flowing unprompted as he spoke with Runt. Other duties he had to perform later that day, other responsibilities that would make do as payment. Barghest was fundamentally fair, and tricks and beguilement were not something he employed often. While Runt lied as he breathed, Barghest’s only trick that evening was the small hope that Runt would end up dead that night. Freeing him from a burden he had agreed to. Honour prevented Barghest from killing Runt himself, a hounds loyalty unwavering even to their enemies.

“A life for a life. Greenskin, have you ever cared for another as you would care for yourself?” the hound asked suddenly, gaze locking on to Runt’s. A second passed before Barghest shook his head, “You haven’t. But if it was your life?” he asked, eyes once again flickering to Runt’s own.

Runt paused, his own thoughts stuttering as the line of questioning continued. Worry began to gnaw at him again slowly, biting away at his confidence. The way Barghest seemed to read him, to gauge him through simple glances wasn’t something Runt was used to contending with. If those questions had been asked truly, and he had been given time to answer them, he would have lied. He would have employed as much guile as he could muster, and give answers he knew to be false. Tactics like that did not work on Barghest. He could not lie about his true nature, nor could he lie about his past and decisions he had once made. Whether Barghest could truly see Runt’s past or not, he saw enough to read Runt readily. And make decisions based on what he saw.

“A deal can be struck. One life for a life. A responsibility given for a burden unloaded upon me. You may give me two names, and those two will die before they leave Mirefort. In exchange a life will be bound to yours. A life that would not exist it otherwise, and give a soul a second chance. A good soul. One that most certainly does not complement your own. A life that will be lost upon yours dimming, and vice versa. That will rise with you, and die with you. A burden you must carry and protect until it can do so itself.” Barghest paused, eyeing Runt carefully, “If you want two dead tonight, this is the price. To atone for past wrongs, and to pay for your future ones.”

Runt slowly nodded as the deal was spelled out. His own thoughts slowly taking form, questions and worries that floated to the surface. Was a threat to his life worth it? Another weakness that could be taken advantage of? Was that worth the death he wanted to cause? Could he make due with just the one? The still burning ghoul before him took up his vision as he stared forwards. He tried to read Barghest, tried to study him like the hound seemed to be able to do, but found the face shimmering in the flames indecipherable.

“What fucking soul? And what’s this going to look like?” snapped Runt, already wary for a trick or loophole he knew would be present in any deal.

“Simple. The guard you dragged into this has not fully moved on. Theirs a small portion of life within her veins and her soul is still bound to his body. The reaper has yet to call on her, and she is still held within my domain. I use some of your blood and a gathered portion of my power, and we can save her life. In a way she will be very much like me. A spirit bound to the body of a hound. Kept alive by your heartbeat, and given a second chance at life. I know you have no heart strings to tug at, but this also being a life you cut short.” Barghest stated, as though the final word was not up for debate. Runt blamed the ghoul for slaying the guard, but Barghest blamed him. A difference that could never be reconciled.

“Agree and state two names, or simply state the one.” Barghest growled, his words ringing out with a finality. Runt could feel the tension once again building in the air. The rising wave that threatened to sweep him up. He was getting a better read of the spirit before him, and he knew that his answer would colour any further interactions. Barghest was being selfish. He could see that now. Unloading a stain on his own conscious, freeing himself of guilt by foisting it upon Runt. Much the same way that Runt was responsible for the guards death, Barghest was responsible for Runt being there in the first place. If things had been different, if Runt had not entered the city that night and made a deal, many more lives would have been lost perhaps, but not this specific one. A change that chipped at the armour of their reality. A wave that petered out as it travelled. A butterfly flutter that threatened to summon a hurricane. Neither Runt nor Barghest were equipped to realize the change that had occurred. Prophecies that shook when the dent in reality was created, forcing others to take notice. Eyes drawn to the butterfly.

The crackling of the ghouls flesh died down as Runt silently debated with himself. Slowly he stepped forwards, using his own strength instead of the beast’s beside him. Reaching over the smoke that now fouled the air between them, he extended one mottled green hand. Claws chipped and raw from the activities that night. Ambition, greed, and a sly smile lighting up his face yet again.

“Fang and Blackeye.”