* * * * *
Cole woke up late for work. It was already an hour after sunrise when he rolled over and looked at the clock. He sprung out of bed, got dressed without freshening up and he ran through the hall and living room and for the door. Even though he was late, something made him pause. He looked back at the couch and saw Marie sitting with Miles, a book opened in between them.
“Morning,” Marie smiled.
“What... what are you doing?” Cole asked.
“Can you believe he doesn’t know how to read?”
“What?”
“I’m teaching him!” she beamed.
Miles grinned with her up at him.
He glared and rubbed his forehead.
“Why didn’t you wake me up for work?”
She gasped. “It’s that late already? Honey, I’m sorry, I just got so caught up with playing and teaching him,” she said.
He sighed. “Whatever. See you tonight,” he said. He opened the door and slammed it behind him, rushing through their front yard. Miles grinned wider as he watched him through the window.
“I don’t like him,” he said.
“He can be a little grumpy,” Marie said. She patted him on the head and shut the book. “And I think he’s a little jealous of the attention I’ve been giving you,” she added.
“What’s jealous?” Miles asked.
“That means... well, he wants me to play with you a little bit less and play with him more. He misses me,” she said.
He stared at her. “You’re going to stop playing?”
“Of course not!” she smiled. “He can just go on and be jealous. You deserve some extra attention right now.”
He grinned. “Good, because if you didn’t play, you’d be boring. I don’t like boring things.”
Marie set the book on the end table and turned to face him. “Miles, you’re just about healed up. I should really ask you some questions,” she said.
He tilted his head and listened.
“Where did you come from? Do you have any family to go back to?” she asked.
He opened his mouth to speak and then hesitated. He scratched his neck and stared at her.
“Well, Miles?” she asked.
“There’s master,” he said. “But I don’t like him.”
“Master...? Who are you talking about?”
He rubbed his arm and glanced around nervously. “Can’t talk about him. It hurts if I say his name,” he said.
“Okay, you don’t have to tell me right now,” she said softly. “Just tell me this; is there anyone waiting for you?”
He shook his head. “No one,” he said.
“And do you like it here?” she asked.
“It’s fun. New things, bird meat, and it’s safe. Yes.”
She put a hand on his shoulder. “Would you like to stay here?”
He tilted his head again. “For how long?”
“For... for forever! Until you grow up. I really love you, Miles, I don’t want you to leave,” she said.
“Grow up?” he said. “Can’t.”
“You can’t stay?”
“No. Can’t grow up, get taller, or bigger. Master told me so.”
She blinked. “I do have a hard time understanding you sometimes,” she said. “Let me ask again... do you want to live here with me and Cole?”
He stared at her. “Maybe,” he said. “Not Cole. He’s boring. I don’t like boring things.”
“Oh, Miles. I won’t push it on you... just think about it, okay? And don’t worry about Cole; he’ll warm up to you.”
She pulled him closer and hugged him briefly before standing up.
“How about we get you changed? You can’t lounge around in your jammies all day,” she said.
“Where’s my clothes? Your clothes are itchy. I like mine better,” he asked, following behind her to the bedroom.
“They’re right here in this drawer, all mended and cleaned for you,” she smiled. She retrieved the folded clothes from the bottom drawer and handed them to the boy, who promptly dropped them onto the ground. He tore his pajama shirt down the middle and peeled it off, then grabbed his shirt from the floor. He stuck his arms and head in and fumbled to get his head through the neck hole. When it went on for more than ten seconds, Marie gently guided his head and arms into the shirt and pulled it down straight.
“Do you need help with the vest and pants?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, I can do it,” he said.
“Come into the kitchen when you’re done, then; I’ll go make you a snack,” she said.
“Bird?” he asked as she left the room.
“Bird!” she called back.
As she chopped up leftover turkey from the night before into a salad—which she knew Miles would just sift through, eat the meat and push the rest away—she heard several thunks and crashes come from the bedroom and then suddenly a very loud crash. She peeked her head into the living room.
“You okay in there?” she yelled and paused to listen.
A quiet voice came back, “I’m fine. Lamp isn’t.”
She sighed. “Cole is going to be mad...” she then hesitated and rubbed the back of her neck. “I probably should have asked him before inviting Miles to stay with us permanently... oh well!” She ducked back into the kitchen and kept chopping, mixing together a fine turkey salad for her and the boy.
Just after sunset, the door slammed closed and heavy feet stomped into the house.
“Marie! Where are you?” Cole yelled.
“In here!” a voice yelled back.
“Where is here?”
“The guest room!”
He walked down the hall and pushed the door open, seeing Marie on the single bed, reading to Miles. He frowned when he caught the boy’s eyes with his own.
“Marie, get rid of him,” he said.
“Cole! We’re in the middle of a book,” she frowned.
“Just for a minute. Please,” he said. She paused and nodded; he only talked this way if he was serious.
“Miles... why don’t you go eat the rest of the chicken in the fridge? It’s in a plastic bag on the top shelf,” she said. He glanced up at her, at Cole, then shrugged. He hopped off the bed and pushed past Cole, heading to the kitchen. Cole shut the door and sat on the bed with Marie.
“We have to talk about that kid,” he said.
“I agree. I wanted to ask you something...” she started, but he hushed her.
“Please, listen to me,” he said. “He’s dangerous. We need to get him out of the house and report him to the guards.”
“The guards! He hasn’t done anything, Cole!”
“Shhh! Keep it down, he could hear.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He unfolded it and handed it to her.
“Does he look familiar?” he asked. It was a wanted poster, with a drawing that was nearly exact to the boy in their house. The description read:

Gender: Male * Age: Est. 12 * Hair: Blond * Height: Est. 4’7”
Wanted for shoplifting, breaking & entering and assault.
VERY DANGEROUS
If seen, please contact the nearest guard ASAP. Do not try talking to him.
Reward for reporting: 5 silver


Marie swallowed. “Where did you get this?” she asked.
“These posters are hung all over town, on every window and pole. This kid is a thief, didn’t I tell you we should be wary?” he said.
She held the poster to her chest. “This isn’t true,” she said. “It just can’t be. Maybe it isn’t him!”
“Marie,” Cole sighed, “Don’t lie to yourself.”
Her head dropped. “But he hasn’t done anything to us...”
“He’s just using us to hide from the guards,” he said. He lifted her chin and looked down at her. “I’m sorry, hon. We have to turn him in before he tries to run.”
“But I love him,” she whispered.
He pulled her close and embraced her. “You’ve only known him for a few days. You care for him because he’s a child, but... he isn’t your child.”
She hugged him. “I know,” she said. She looked up at him. “Do we really have to turn him in?”
“I’m sorry,” was all he said, stroking her hair. She clung tighter and buried her head in his chest.
“We’ll have our own kids someday, you know,” he whispered. “This isn’t the last kid you’ll ever see.”
She smiled just a little. “We still need to decide how many kids we want,” she said.
“Two,” he said.
“Five,” she said.
They looked at each other and smiled. He kissed her forehead and sighed softly.
“We’ll never agree on that one, will we?” he asked.
“Probably not,” she smiled.
They kissed and hugged and giggled, forgetting entirely about Miles for a few wonderful moments.
During those moments, the boy stood at the door, listening. He was not smiling. Not anymore.
The next day, Marie and Cole both woke up early. Cole slipped the wanted poster into his coat, kissed Marie goodbye and left as if he was going to work. Marie cooked breakfast for Miles; sausage and eggs, and read a chapter to him. The entire time, he did not say a word or smile. He only stared at her, and she felt his cold gaze all morning long.
While she was putting up the book, she turned to see him still staring.
“Are you okay, hon?” she asked softly.
He blinked. “Where is Cole?” he asked.
She bit her tongue. “Why, he’s at work. You know he goes to work every day.”
“Liar,” he said.
“E-Excuse me, sweetie?” she rubbed her neck. “What did you call me that for?” she asked, but he didn’t answer. He only stared.
Her mouth suddenly felt dry. She poured a glass of water in the kitchen and drank it slowly. When she set the glass down, she was startled by Miles standing behind her.
“You scared me!” she said, holding her chest.
“You’re boring now. Just like every one else. I thought you were different,” he said, his gaze never faltering.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“I hate you. Every one of you humans,” he said.
“Humans?” she repeated. She put a hand on his shoulder and knelt down to his height. “Are you feeling okay?”
With strength not found in normal boys, he slapped her arm away from him. She yelped and fell back, holding it.
“Th-That hurt!” she said, rubbing the throbbing red mark which slowly turned into a bruise.
“I’m tired of bird and pig,” he said. Slowly his frown curved up into a smile. “We’re going to have some fun now,” he said.
She scooted away from him. “What’s wrong with you, Miles?” she asked. She almost stood up to calm him down... but she saw something happening to him which made her freeze.
He held his arms out; they turned a sickly, scaly green as his nails grew dark, long and very sharp. The scales traveled over his body and his feet were suddenly longer and flatter, with grotesque nails growing out. Around his mouth, the green scales curled and stopped halfway up his cheeks. His pupils became diamond shaped and a thick, powerful tail grew from his spine. Lastly, he hissed; two rows of tiny razor sharp teeth were bared and his lizard tongue hung out.
As all questions and thoughts escaped her, all she could do was scream.
* * * * *
A key entered the lock. The knob turned and Cole stood there key in hand. He glanced around quickly and ushered in the guards behind him.
“They’re probably in the bedroom or guestroom,” he said.
“Just wait here, unless you want to get hurt,” a guard said.
“He isn’t really that dangerous, is he? I mean, he’s just a boy...”
“Just stay back.”
Cole rubbed his neck. “Don’t hurt Marie,” he said.
There were five guards and more outside. They wore armor and had swords sheathed on their backs, which the guard in the front of the team drew. They walked slowly, quietly, down the hall. The lead guard pushed open a door; the bathroom, it was empty. They walked more and looked in another room; the guest room, it was empty. They got to the last door; the bedroom. The door was opened slowly, and they entered.
“Blood,” a guard said. The floor was painted with it.
“Keep your eyes open and draw your weapons, men,” the lead guard said. They all did just that.
They split up in the room to investigate. The blood smeared and trailed into the closet. The leader opened it and they found Marie.
“She’s dead,” he confirmed.
“You think the monster is still here?” a guard asked.
“We need to find out,” the leader said. “Split up and search the house.”
The leader turned his back on the closet, and they all heard a thud.
Everyone looked at the closet door, and there the young boy sat. He had jumped down from the shelf in the closet and landed on his hands and feet. He smiled up at them, his razor teeth gleaming.
“Hi,” he said, “let’s play.”
“Kill him!” the leader directed. He swung his sword at him, which Miles dodged easily by rolling behind him. He leapt at him and clung to his back with his claws, cutting through his armor. The man yelled and shook to get him off, but Miles simply grinned and hung on. His nails suddenly fused with his fingers, turned pitch black, and grew. They came out the other side through the guard’s chest and twisted. When the man fell limp, he jumped off and his fingers were once more green and scaly. He stared at the others, who were staring back.
“He killed the strongest of us like that,” one of them mumbled.
“You’re going to die!” another cried, pointing a wand at him. As he was mustering up an ice spell, the boy ran—faster than they knew he could—and gripped the wand with his clawed hand. He held it steady and bent it until it snapped in half. Afterwards he jumped at the man’s exposed neck and sunk his teeth in.
“Get it off!” the guard cried, trying to pry the demon boy off with both hands. Another guard thrust his sword at Miles, but did not see his tail as it whacked into his arms with great force and knocked the sword out of his hands. While he fumbled to grab it, Miles ripped out a chunk of the guard’s neck, swallowed, and stabbed his whole arm through the other guard’s stomach. Both of the men writhed and flailed until they stopped moving, and the boy slid his bloodied arm out of the dead man’s body. He licked it with a thin, quick tongue and shot a grin at the remaining men.
“Who else wants to play?” he asked.
The men shuddered and looked at each other briefly.
“We need back up,” one whispered.
They inched out and ran through the door, down the hallway, away from the demon boy and towards the front door. Cole, who had been idling in the living room, watched them disappear out the door and slam it shut. He blinked.
Miles, walking hunched over on two feet, slowly came out of the hallway, into his view. Cole looked at his scaly green skin, his diamond shaped eyes, all the blood he was covered in, and could not move an inch. Miles noticed him and smiled.
“Where did my new friends go?” he asked. Cole did not answer. He sniffed the air and grinned wider, stepping towards the front door.
“Will be back for you, Cole. Maybe you’ll be tastier than Marie,” he said, slipping through the door.

Miles was not expecting what waited for him outside Cole Maine and Marie Thach’s house. Something like twenty, thirty people were lined up in front of him like a wall. The two front rows had wands pointed at him. The other rows had swords bared and ready to be used. All of them had their eyes locked on the little demon child.
“Take him down at whatever cost. Do not allow him to escape!” one of them commanded.
Miles held out his arms to his sides. He closed his eyes and all of his scales and lizard features disappeared. Then before anyone could say anything, they were replaced. His skin turned jet black all the way up to his cheeks; his fingers became long and sharp and the streak in his hair was black. He looked at the men with wide eyes.
“Fire the spells!” the man yelled, and the first row all charged and threw ice spells at him at an incredible speed. Miles ducked and jumped and avoided a large number of them, but got caught by a few and stumbled to the ground half frozen. He twitched and swung his arms, breaking the shards off as the men with swords rushed at him. One of them sliced through the boy’s shirt and cut his skin just as he got free. Dark, thick blood oozed from the wound as he stumbled around the men. He held his arms out and his claws shot out longer, piercing six men through their hearts. As they fell, he retracted his fingers and leapt over the bodies, swinging his arms wildly at each guard he faced. Several went down; others blocked with their swords and attacked back.
Miles cried softly as a sword sliced straight through his shoulder and pinned him to the ground. He thrashed a bit and twitched.
“Got you, you little bastard!” the man yelled. He pulled his sword up and thrust it down towards his heart, but Miles blocked with his fingers and held the blade in his hand. They struggled for only a moment before Miles swung his other arm and sliced the man’s leg off, then cut through his stomach. He swung his arms again and took down one more guard before getting hit with an even stronger ice spell that knocked him flat to the ground. He groaned and shook, trying to break the ice, but it didn’t budge. He heard footsteps approach him and smelt the scent of a human standing over him.
“You’ve been hard for us to catch,” Eli said. His wand was aimed at Miles as he leaned down. He grabbed the boy’s chin in his bony hand and lifted his head, staring into his eyes. Miles hissed and snapped at him as he pulled away.
“You are no ordinary demon, are you? I knew you sounded strange, but I never imagined you would be...” he scratched his beard and shook his head. “Black magic. Whoever created you is definitely one to be feared.” He stood up straight and held his wand steady. “He must be destroyed,” he said.
Miles held still. Facing the ground, he smiled.
Suddenly the ice wrapped around him shattered as something grew from his back. His black skin changed into bright scales and his claws became duller and blunt. Scaly wings sprouted wide from his back, twitching and flapping a couple times as he got to his feet. He threw his head up and laughed.
The remaining guards scrambled away from him and Eli took several steps back, wide eyed.
“Such different forms... unbelievable,” he said. He pointed his wand again and used another ice spell, which Miles leapt into the air to dodge. He flapped his wings a few times and hovered down closer to Eli, reaching for him. Eli avoided narrowly and threw another spell, aimed at the boy’s face. His wing swooped and blocked him, getting hit and freezing still.
Miles hobbled, one heavy wing and one light wing, away from the magician. He started running towards the guards, who held their swords up, and locked in on one who fumbled and got his sword a little too late. He turned his wing toward the guard and dove into him, crashing hard into the ground. The ice cracked and several pieces fell, but his wing was still frozen. He hissed and shivered once. The surrounding guards took a swing at him, which he responded to by tackling one and tearing into his chest with his blunt claws. The man screamed and thrashed about until Miles got deeper, then he stopped moving. Miles ripped out a bloody chunk of skin and shoved it into his mouth before jumping off him and towards another guard.
“Stop!” Eli yelled. “Attack another human and you will see no mercy. I will not kill you quickly; instead I will cover every inch of your body with ice until you freeze to death!”
Miles stopped mid-attack and looked up at the old magician.
“Don’t like that,” he said.
“Then let that man go,” Eli commanded, wand pointed.
The boy looked down at the man he had his claws to, then looked back up. “No. Fire,” he said, pointing back at his frozen wing, “use fire and I’ll stop.”
“We don’t take orders from demons!” a guard yelled, glaring at him from a safe distance. “Never!”
Eli paused and stared at Miles, who stared straight back, claws to the man’s throat.
“It is agreed,” he said, and all of the guards stared at him. Miles smiled. He stood up from the man and held his wings out.
“Fire,” he said.
Eli breathed. The guards all scattered a long distance away from the dragon boy. He then mustered up the strongest, hottest ball of fire he could ever possibly summon.
“Fire,” the magician said, and the swirling, pulsing fire ball raced towards Miles and engulfed his entire body.
The fire raged and scorched the grass and flowers around Miles. He held still as Eli and the guards waited.
“No demon I have ever faced has survived such heat. He must be dead...” he thought, but he was proven quite wrong as laughing was heard from the figure on fire. The boy flapped his wings several times until the fire went out then he stood perfectly fine. His clothes were burnt considerably, but he was still grinning and staring at the magician.
“Thanks,” he said, breathing out, “much better.”
“Impossible!” Eli said. He threw an ice spell at Miles, which he dodged by flying up so high into the air that he could barely be seen. Then quickly he dropped like a rock and landed just behind Eli, clinging to his back and sinking his teeth into his shoulder. The man gasped and elbowed the boy in his chest, but he wasn’t fazed. He bit harder and dug his claws further into his sides and wrapped his long wings around him, trapping him.
“Guards!” Eli yelled, “Attack him!”
The guards ran to the scene and thrust their swords at the boy one at a time, but he easily took the blows with his strong wings and jumped away from them as they got closer. Then suddenly his wings unwrapped and flapped hard until he and Eli were lifted into the air, well out of range of the guards. Miles pulled his teeth out, licked them and laughed.
“You’re fun,” he said, “I like you.”
Eli held his wand and peered down at the long drop below him. He wheezed from the pain of four sets of claws dug into his body and closed his eyes. He concentrated...
Miles finally looked down at his hands and wand to see what he was doing, but it was too late. He threw a spell into his face, which burnt his eyes and froze his neck and chest and suddenly they went spiraling down from the sky. They crashed into the side of a tall building and skid across the pavement. Neither of them moved.
The guards, having watched them fall from the sky, rushed to where they fell and assisted Eli. He was bruised, had some broken bones and could barely stand, but he was alive. Next they checked on Miles, who had reverted back to looking like a normal boy shortly after he hit the ground. Most of the ice had shattered from the impact against the building, but his neck and arms were still covered. He didn’t move as they approached, or as they prodded at him with their swords.
“I think it’s dead,” a guard said.
Eli hobbled towards the boy with his wand pointed. “We must make sure of it. This creature must never harm another soul,” he said. He coughed, held his head, then charged up a spell. The spell was swirling and white and holy. He held his wand close to the boy as it charged stronger.
“Will that really kill such a monster?” the guard asked. Eli nodded.
“No demon can survive strong holy magic. Not even this one; it is utterly impossible,” he said. He looked at the young boy’s face before breathing and sighing. “Back to the underworld with you.”
The earth shook.
All around them the ground cracked, ever slightly, and from the deepest depths, something rose.
Pure blackness spilled into the air from the cracks like fog and wrapped around all the guard’s legs. It held them steady as more wrapped around Eli’s legs and body and around his arms, constricting him. He groaned and tried to hold his posture as the unnatural air got tighter and tighter around him. He tried to hold his wand up and keep his spell strong, but the air was escaping his lungs quickly and his ribs were being pushed together; so he dropped his spell and his wand and his knees buckled. He coughed and hacked up blood as the fog swirled higher around his neck.
“Wh-what is this!” was all he could say, groaning.
He reached for his wand, but something kept him from grabbing it. He tried to imagine and conjure up a spell without it but it was useless. The pitch black air held tight to his neck and body and he fell limp. The guards watched on in horror as it slid away from him and back into the cracks, which disappeared completely. Their feet free, they still didn’t move. The remaining guards, a mere six men, were too frozen in fear to approach the magician or even speak.
The ice had almost dissolved completely. It had melted enough for him to move, anyway. Miles groaned, spit, and propped himself up with his hands. He shivered and rubbed his arms, remembering where he was. He looked at Eli’s body, at the guards—who jumped when his gaze caught theirs—then at the sky. It was late afternoon by this point, and the sun was going to set soon. He shook his head and stood up, stumbled, then stood up again. The boy looked ahead of him and hobbled slowly down the street, glancing at the guards every now and then, until they were out of each other’s sight.

By the time he reached Cole and Marie’s house, he had warmed up and the sun was just beginning to set. He swung open the unlocked door and peered inside the quiet home.
“Coooole?” he called out, smiling. He took a few steps and glanced around in the living room. Nothing had been moved since he left. He sniffed the air and headed down the hallway.
“No use hiding, I can smell you,” he said.
He entered the bedroom and sniffed the air again. He breathed out and smiled. He stepped further in and peeked in the closet, where Marie’s body still lay. He knelt and sniffed her carefully, smelling Cole’s scent. He had just been near her. As he stood up, he saw a figure in the corner of his eye, pointing something at him. When he turned around, he heard a loud BANG and a bullet whizzed into him, shattered and tore up his insides. He cried and fell to the ground, coughing violently. Cole stepped forward, gun in hand, and spit on him.
He looked like he wanted to say something—to curse the boy’s name, yell at him for killing his love, but no words came. He swallowed and with a solemn expression, he held the gun to Miles’ head.
Miles twitched suddenly and fell to the ground, swiping long black claws under Cole’s feet and tripping him just as he fired. Miles jumped up and hobbled away, digging into his own stomach and pulling out bullet shards as Cole stumbled back to his feet. He turned just in time to avoid another shot, getting skimmed on the shoulder. He finished his transformation; black claws and skin up to his cheeks, fangs and a black streak in his hair, then he leapt at Cole. Cole counted his shots—two left—and held his gun away as he fumbled to avoid Miles. Miles landed, skid across the wood floor, turned and ran at him again. Cole hastily lined up his pistol’s sights and fired, hitting the floor just beside the boy’s foot. The bullet shattered and several pieces struck Miles in the leg, but they didn’t faze him much. He tackled Cole to the ground, pinned his arms and legs, and stared down into his eyes. He wheezed slightly as he grinned, a bit exhausted from running around with such an injury.
Cole jerked and tried to move, but the demon’s grip held tight. He breathed and stared into the boy’s eyes, seeing blood red irises peering back.
“So kill me,” he said. “Just kill me. You beat me.”
Miles tilted his head. “You want to die?” he asked.
“Why should I live?” he whispered, looking at the closet.
Miles looked where his eyes went, and then smiled wider. “Pathetic!” he laughed. “Humans. All of you. Pathetic!”
Cole closed his eyes. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“So you want to die now?” Miles asked, tightening his grip. Cole gasped. He raised one clawed hand and wriggled his fingers, deciding which claw to use on which part of his body.
Cole smirked ever slightly.
“I think you should die now,” he said, and with his freed arm, he aimed for Miles’ head and pulled the trigger. Miles screamed once and held his neck, letting go of Cole as he rolled on the ground, bleeding. The gun jerked at the last moment and missed his head, but tore through his shoulder and neck well enough. Cole pulled himself up and rushed to the table beside the bed, ripping a drawer open and searching for his ammunition. Miles growled and crawled with both hands and feet towards him, digging his claws into his legs and pulling him down just as he had located the box of ammo. The box hit the ground and bullets poured out as Miles stuck his right hand straight through Cole’s back and out his chest.
Miles held steady as Cole buckled over and tried to shake him off. He collapsed completely and groaned, coughing up blood. Miles slid his claws out and stuck them in again, turning and twisting before pulling them out again. He grinned as he stomped a foot on his hand—which had been reaching for a bullet.
“No more of that,” he said, wriggling his fingers once more. He stabbed Cole in the side suddenly, then in the shoulder, and in the chest. He listened as Cole whispered something inaudible, then fell limp. His slow breathing decreased and Miles just sat in front of him, hands on his knees, watching curiously until he finally stopped breathing and drifted away. The demon boy smiled and attacked his body, tearing at it and eating until he was full several minutes later. He licked the blood from his lips and wheezed, picking at his wounds until he was sure all the bullet shards were gone.
He stood up and walked out of the bedroom, glancing one more time at Marie, then walking down the hallway. He left the house and paused. A large commotion was happening not far from where he was; lots of talking, lanterns being held, and searching. Miles crept on all fours in the grass and walked past several people, stopping only when he thought he was making too much noise. But when he was sure no one noticed him, he kept going. As he got further into the city where there were no grass and bushes, he crawled into an alley and climbed up the side of a building. From the roof of the building, he could see even more people grouped on the ground. He realized that they were where he and Eli had crashed, and he saw the magician’s body, covered with a sheet. Three figures stood over it, and he could only make out one sentence from where he was. It was a woman’s voice.
“We should never have sent him,” she said.
He smiled and went on his way.
He walked along the roof and when he reached the edge, he braced himself and jumped off towards the next building, catching the wall and grunting. His wounds throbbed as he climbed up and repeated this over and over again until he was at the gate to leave town. Three guards stood, alert, with their swords drawn.
“No good,” he said to himself. He held his bleeding stomach and looked around; he wasn’t up for much more fighting, so he would have to improvise.
Miles crawled over to a lawn chair that sat on the roof. It was wooden with a fine cloth as a seat and was standing beside other chairs and a table. He grabbed the chair and tore off a piece of it, kicking the rest aside. He walked to the edge of the building and hurled it with all his strength. It flew and smashed into the ground, some feet away from the guards, causing a very noticeable crashing noise. They looked at each other, held their swords up, and ran to the scene.
Miles took this opportunity and leapt from the roof, landing in a not-so-graceful fashion; by rolling and stumbling into the wall. He shook his head and hissed at the wall before standing and pushing on the large, closed door that blocked him from getting out. He noticed a locking system, but couldn’t figure out how to use it, so instead he thrust his claws into the wood and tore out chunk after chunk until there was a hole big enough for him to crawl through. He looked back at the guards, who were still occupied with finding out what caused the noise, then went through the hole.
He came out the other side, where it was very dark and the wind blew strongly. He smiled and sniffed the fresh air. No humans, just the scent of nature and wild animals. Ahead of him he saw a dirt path that seemed to veer off two ways, one went right; towards a forest, the other went left; towards another town he could see in the distance. Without hesitation, he headed into the forest.
The forest was friendly enough; healthy trees, moderate bushes and grass, flowers every now and then, and he could definitely smell squirrels. None of it interested him much, except the squirrels. He was used to much thicker, sick trees and animals so vile they would maul you without the slightest provocation. But he was happy that he was finally out of... human territory...
He sniffed.
“Humans,” he said.
He frowned and ran faster down the path, coming to a large area with an unlit fire pit in the middle and stakes stuck into the ground. A sign was hammered into the ground, which he could not read, but he had been to places like this before. He heard the humans call it “camping” once. But this campsite appeared to be empty, as there was not a tent in sight. He sniffed the air again; he could smell the humans that had left not too long ago.
He breathed out and held his stomach again, groaning.
“Sleep,” he said to himself, stumbling closer to a tree. His claws were already starting to fade and he was almost back to looking like a normal boy by the time he climbed into the branches. He sighed and rubbed his eyes with his small hands. Before long, he was fast asleep.
He slept well through the morning and afternoon, and it wasn’t until the sun was setting that he woke up to the sounds of talking. He grunted and yawned as he opened his eyes and peeked through the leaves of the tree. He immediately smiled.
“Are you sure this is a good place?” a young woman said, holding her backpack straps as she walked.
“Of course it’s a good place. I’ve been here before, and besides, we’re close enough to town if we need something,” the oldest looking man there said, walking ahead of them all.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” a boy asked, tugging on the adult’s shirt. “I heard there was a monster on the loose.”
“Never mind those rumors, they’re just ghost stories,” he said, patting the child’s head.
“I heard it killed more than forty people,” the girl said. The boy whimpered and clung to his father tighter.
“Stop scaring your brother!” the mother said, who was trailing behind.
They reached the campsite and set their bags down. The father immediately started setting up their tents while the girl and boy whispered to each other about how they didn’t want to be here. Miles licked his lips and smiled.
“What was that?” the father asked.
“It sounded like something falling,” the mother said. Both of them ventured to the tree where Miles had sat and saw him on the ground.
“It’s a boy!” the mother cried. She lifted him up and ran her hand over him, examining.
“Is he hurt?” the father asked.
“He doesn’t seem to be... but look at his clothes, and he’s all dirty. What happened to you?” she asked, looking down at the boy.
Miles just stared back, smiling. The father suggested he probably is hurt, and that they should care for him. And as the mother lifted him and carried him back, he smiled wider and extended his claws.

End.