Hope

“You are a very stupid human.” One of them snarls.

The third one begins to cackle, leaning his hands on his knees. “You are going to wish you never met us.”

I already did.

Dirt is kicked up into my face, blinding me as I try and blink away the dust and gravel.

“Looks like you need to be taught a lesson about who exactly is in charge around here,” the blue boon hisses.

Finally, I manage to get my feet back under me, but as soon as I’m vertical, a massive green fist connects with my face, sending me flying back into the dirt. A boot collides with my ribs, my breath being ripped out from my lungs from the force.

Choking, I spit a mix of blood and saliva, the mixture of fluids splattering onto the closest shoe.

This only manages to spur the aliens on, a cacophony of hissing and deep chested growls rising steadily. There’s nothing I can do to get out of this. Three to one, and I’m already injured.

The green alien lifts me by the front of my shirt with his clawed hands, the fabric choking me once again. I try to grab at his armoured fist as I splutter, feet violently kicking out as I try to wriggle free.

“Fucker,” I cough.

He grins, but I take this opportunity to slam the side of my fist into his face, landing a hit to his beady lizard eye. He snarls, his fingers loosening around my shirt, but not enough for me to break free.

So, I do the only thing left to do, and pray that his humanoid figure maintains very similar qualities to that of a male human.

My knee slams up into the ugly green boon’s crotch, sending him howling to the ground. I fall from his grip gasping, my lungs aching and my hand throbbing from punching the equivalent of a cement wall.

His other two companions look a little serious now, approaching at a slow pace. I stand, cradling by most likely broken hand against my cracked ribs. There’s no way he didn’t break a few bones.

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, I glare at the approaching figures, eyes searching for a way out. I thought if I moved to Vercnaye my street fighting days would be over, but apparently not. I did not sign up for more of this shit.

The blue alien side-steps his buddy who’s still rolling on the ground cupping himself, and instead focuses on me, tongue flicking out.

“Come here you little—”

“I think that’s enough.” Everyone’s heads whip to the left where Avørek stands in all his haughty glory.

Caster stands gingerly behind him, head poking out as he clutches at Mr Mirker’s son’s sheer cardigan.

The boons freeze on the spot when they notice Avørek is holding some sort of weapon aimed directly at them. He flicks a switch on it, and the little machine begins to make a high-pitched charging sound. It obviously isn’t a normal gun.

The blue boon snarls, taking a threatening step towards Avørek, but the slim alien doesn’t hesitate. The weapon fires with a sharp sound, a beam of blinding light shooting out and hitting the alien in the foot.

The creature screeches, his foot burning as steam blows from the wound. His friend is quick to ditch, leaving his other two friends to scramble away, hobbling.

I slump in relief, my adrenalin beginning to drain and the pain beginning to spike.

“I think a thank you, would be appropriate right about now,” he says, holding the gun up so that it no longer points at anyone in specific.

I glare at him from my slumped spot in the dirt, spitting out another glob of blood before groaning in pain.

“I’d like to see you try and take on three fucking boons,” I hiss, slowly climbing to my feet and limping over to the pair.

Caster peaks from around his living shield, eyes filling with tears as he takes in my bloodied and dirtied person. He makes a noise in his throat, scrambling over to me and blubbering a whole lot of gibberish.

Avørek rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t have been dumb enough to try.”

~~~

The walk back to the house is long and painful. Caster tries his best to support me as I shuffle along, but if anything, he makes the scrapes and bruises hurt a little more than they have to.

“Cas, it’s fine.” I wince as he dabs at my split lip and gently prods at the bruise forming on my cheek.

Avørek leans against the kitchen bench with his arms crossed over his chest, the gun laying on the counter.

Caster whines, dabbing again at my lip with the damp cloth. “No, Em! Injured, uh, clean or- or you get sick.”

Pulling his hand away, I attempt a small smile. “I’m fine. I just need to rest. Why don’t you go check on Lavere?”

He opens his mouth to argue, but quickly shuts it when I raise an eyebrow and shoo him away with a gesture. When he’s out of view, I let my smile drop, rubbing at my face with my free hand.

I grimace to myself, gently using my tongue to probe around the inside of my mouth to check all my teeth are still intact. I’m pretty sure my ribs are cracked, and that my wrist is broken, but I’m honestly surprised I didn’t come away with more broken bones. Boons aren’t known to go easy on their prey.

Avørek takes this moment to stride over to me, glancing from my face and down to the wrist cradled in my lap. “I think you broke something.”

I glare at him, gritting my teeth in pain as he reaches over to pry my arm away from me, inspecting it with a tutting noise.

He pulls something from his pocket, tugging my arm further away from me. I hiss in pain, but this only causes the alien to roll his eyes. “Humans are so fragile. You can’t even defend yourself without getting hurt.”

I ignore this, instead sending him another glare. Avørek grins before placing the little silver disk that he pulled from his pocket along my arm, a cooling sensation numbing the throbbing pain.

The disk is about the size of a large silver coin that makes a beeping noise when Avørek slowly runs it across my arm. A blue hue glows from its edges, casting my arm in a cool light. It’s causing such a strange feeling, the bones in my wrist almost feeling as if they’re moving around; readjusting themselves back into place.

A few more minutes pass before Avørek takes the disk away and places it back into his pocket. He pokes at my wrist gently, turning my arm in his grip with cold fingers.

“How did you-,” I trail off, staring at my wrist in wonder.

“It’s a healing device. Alenorians created it a few years back when they discovered how primitive human technology was. Your wrist will still be weak, but it’s not broken.”

Where was this when I broke my arm three years ago? Why didn’t everyone have access to the neat little coin. It heals bones!

“Thanks, I guess.” Glancing up at him, I notice how close his face is to mine.

I clear my throat, moving my head a little way away from the close proximity. The alien rolls his eyes, letting go of my arm and turning back to the table where Caster left the bloodied cloth.

“I’ll clean this up, you should probably go lie down. Let’s hope my father doesn’t hear about your little disagreement.”

He has a point. What will Mr. Mirker do when he inevitably finds out? Would he fire me? Would he be mad we lost the basket of groceries too? I don’t know the alien very well, I don’t know how he may react. Maybe it is best that this little incident doesn’t get mentioned to Mr. Mirker. Just to be on the safe side.