Igvar, Idda's husband, returned home in a state worthy of someone who has long run through the forest, sweaty and dirty but bloody. His grayish shirt was covered in dirt, sweat, and blood as if he had been in a fight.

The robust man returned home after a horrible disaster; now, that boy was there. The man's face, weather-beaten from years of toiling in the woods under the scorching sun, had an unfocused, hateful look.

A few steps away from him was his wife, almost collapsed in one of the corners of the cabin, knife in hand.

On the other side, there was a boy. One he recognized.

"You…" he exclaimed, his breath coming in gasps. "You were there..."

"I-Igvar," Idda hesitantly exclaimed to her husband, "The boy..."

"He was there," he pointed to the ragged boy accusatory. "With the thief..."

"W-What?" said the boy with concern. "L-Listen, all was m-mistake..."

The woodcutter was breathing heavier, gulping in air as if it fueled the fire inside him because of those words.

The boy hesitated and explained the situation, "S-She was confused and..."

The man shouted, furious, "She killed Friedel!"

Idda opened her eyes in shock and fear, hugging the knife handle with both hands. The ragged boy also watched him in disbelief at such an accusation.

"T-There must be some mistake..." the boy said quietly.

"That demon killed my friend," the man insisted again. Then, firmly, he held his ax in hand as furious reached his limit. Finally, Igvar released his words in a guttural cry, "She killed my best friend! Bloody hell marked demon!"

After his words, the man pounced at the boy, planning to bury his tool in his head, perhaps seeking either solace or righteous revenge.

The kid was paralyzed with fear as all he could do was stare at the man approaching him. Step by step, the man grew larger in height and size; the woodcutter was so big that his hand with wide and hairy fingers could take the face of the boy in hand.

It all seemed like it was going to end there. Everything seemed to come to an end. The boy would have no answers; He would have no relief. He wouldn't be able to defend himself.

Moments before Igvar hit the boy's head, a flurry of whispers and screams filled his mind. Guttural screams, war cries, whispers of voices telling him what to do, how to move, attack, and kill.

Multiple moves were drawn before him, showing him the paths the teen should use as if something inside him insisted that this was not the end and that he could still do more.

The boy still had a chance to survive and find the answers from him.

With unique and incredible dexterity, the boy slid down to the man's right and, in slow motion, watched the ax blade slam down where it had been before.

The teen had no time to think about what was happening as Igvar swung another ax at him again, aiming for his head.

The marked boy evaded again, then slid to the man's left. Time and time again, every slash Igvar tried to inflict on him has dodged amazingly.

Yet, the boy never took his eyes off him, as if he was focused on his enemy as if something told him he should be. Voices in his head guided the teen and seemed to move his body like a puppet.

Without believing it, the boy made an unconscious exhibition of skill. The hut became a mess as he moved everywhere. First, the table was overturned when the man threw it into a rage once the boy came to stand on it. Then, it was the turn of the chairs. After that, decorations hung on the walls; among them was the symbol of Lithal, a silver metallic star that shattered due to its fragility when it fell to the ground. As he dodged the man, the place was being destroyed, and Ingvar's fury only increased.

Idda screamed in desperation, gripped by fear and unable to escape from his corner, "Enough! For the love of Lithal!"

"Shut your mouth!" shouted Igvar, believing to have cornered the boy, but he slipped away again as soon as he attacked him.

"You're destroying the hut, our house. Please, stop it!" Idda shouted with a red, tear-stained face.

"Argh! Shut up!" shouted the man, gripping the handle of his ax until his limb was white from the force with which he held it.

Abruptly his eye turned to her, which also had tears.

Idda had tears of fear, while he had tears of hatred.

Idda shouted, "P-Please..."

"Shut your mouth!" Said her husband; in a rage, he turned on her with red eyes in fury as he threatened her with his ax.

"No, wait!" shouted the marked boy. In this way, losing concentration, the boy felt how all those whispers and screams had disappeared.

Cunning but mad, the man spun on himself and threw another blow with his gun at the boy.

He didn't make it out unscathed with his guard down, and the ax's blade slid down his arm to his forearm, tearing the rags he wore and cutting into his flesh.

The teen fell to the ground, clutching his arm as he cried out in pain and writhed on the floor as blood gushed from his cut.

Idda's husband saw how that demon had fallen to the ground, and now was his chance.

The man raised his ax and prepared it to descend with its blade as it did as the logs he split.

Seeing the boy on the ground, he said, "I will do you a favor, demon."

The man stomped on his abdomen hard to prevent him from moving. Then, screaming in pain, the boy let out a whine and looked that man in the eyes again. The dislocated and hateful look said it all. It all happened in a few seconds.

The voices returned, and the boy's eyes quickly lowered to the legs of the sturdy man.

He hit that guy's knee with a fierce and accurate kick. Igvar screamed in pain, and the ax changed its trajectory and stuck a short distance from the marked boy's head.

The boy's hazel eyes reflected the moment's concentration, but it transformed into astonishment and terror in a few moments.

Amidst Idda's screams, and Igvar's whines on the ground, the boy finally saw his chance to flee. He rose from the ground and, as he did so, saw Idda in the corner of the hut; she was crying, but then she was silent when she saw him get up.

The woman tried to get defensive, expecting he would attack her any moment.

The marked boy watched her and showed Idda how at no time, he didn't let go of the bag of food she gave him.

"T-Thank you..." he said in a brittle voice.

Idda, unable to say anything, watched as he walked out of the hut.

Outside his situation didn't look like it was going to change. So, again agitated and frightened, he had to figure out how to get out of that place. Then, he saw a group of men galloping up to the location on horseback. The lumberjacks were now after him.

One of them shouted, "There he is!".

The horses increased their gallop until they made the ground of the place shake, frightening the animals in the corral.

The marked teen tried to think of something, a way he could run away from there. He could have gone back to the forest and tried to beg for mercy, but none of the options were good.

Without thinking about it, he opted to seek shelter in the stable, making a quick dash as the riders seemed to charge at him. The kid rushed to the half-open door and got inside quickly.

"Get off, catch him!" shouted the rider going all the way. Three of them jumped down in a hurry with an ax in hand.

The boy ran inside and grabbed both doors until he could close them. The trio of men began to push the door open while he pressed his back against it to deny them passage.

At that instant, the marked boy was oblivious to what was going on, but he seemed to have more strength than three men with broad, beefy arms from logging, growing to five as the last few got off their horses.

For some reason, the boy could withstand the pressures of the five almost without trouble. He couldn't think about it, for his feeling of survival was much more potent. But nevertheless, he knew he couldn't hold them off for so long. Sooner or later, he was going to tire and give in.

He was trapped.

A voice was heard inside the stable. A female voice.

"Hold the door!" said the voice.

He didn't catch a glimpse of the person, but he wouldn't stop holding the door to look for her; the screams of those men were enough for him not to give in.

"Open the door, you monster!" shouted one.

"We're going to cut your head off, demon!" shouted another.

"Hold on!" he heard the youthful voice say.

Soon he saw to his right as this person placed the wood he could seal from inside the stable.

When the door closed, the boy realized who it was. He saw the girl in the woods.

"What?" he exclaimed in disbelief, "I-I thought them..."

The girl reached him and then, without a word, punched him in the face.

He let out a whine as he cupped his face.

"What the hell!" he shouted, holding his cheekbone.

"You ran!" she shouted through her teeth, "you left me with them!"

He looked at her incredulously before getting angry, "W-What? Are you kidding me? I'm sorry I didn't stay with someone shouting at me and wanting me dead if I move!"

She was angry and rolled her eyes at the boy's words. Then, the boy noticed several bruises on the right side of her face, and it was also smeared with blood.

As if all the anger of that brief moment had dissipated, he watched her with concern.

"A-Are you okay?" he asked as he tried to touch her face.

Then, she swatted his hand out of her sight with a swipe.

"Yeah, no thanks to you," she blurted out, annoyed, before turning her back on him.

The boy, crestfallen, began to feel guilty about it. She was actually attacked and injured.

"I'm sorry," He apologized. "I shouldn't have run like I did. I was scared, I couldn't handle myself and..."

She raised her hand and interrupted him, "Shut up. Never mind that right now."

With nerves of steel, she knew that no matter how angry she was at the moment, it was time to think with a cool head.

When she looked back at him, the teen saw how she had her hand and the left side of her rags covered in dried blood.

Then, tremblingly, he asked her, "D-Did you kill one of them?"

She hid the bloodstains under the green cloak and dissuaded him with her look in silence.

Guilt washed over him, "I'm sorry, maybe if I ..."

"What? 'Maybe if I' what?" she said gruffly.

He watched her dumbly.

"'If you had been there, what would you have done? They were more than us. One knocked me to the ground, hit me, and tried to leave me there until his friends would grab me and..."

Her face changed for a moment. Then, retaining her silence, she brought her hand under her cloak, holding the knife stolen from the man she killed.

She stabbed him several times over his side when she took it from him. Again and again. until she broke free of his grip. It was expected that he would die because he had lost much blood.

In that meager silence, the shouts of woodcutters clamoring for both's blood were all that could be heard.

"What are we going to do?" asked the pointy-eared girl.

The dark-skinned boy watched her for a moment in disbelief. However, he soon recognized that this situation had to be resolved together.

The boy felt his heart pounding, the stress and adrenaline of the moment still coursing through him. Still, he watched on his hand once again that vaguely visible mark. That strange triangle.

"We have to get out of here somehow. Then, we'll find someone to explain this," the marked boy raised his hand.

The marked girl looked at him and, in turn, saw the back of her own hand.

"It's no coincidence that we both have this and don't remember anything from our past either," the girl remarked suspiciously, in a moment of cold reasoning.

Then, she glanced toward the stable door, shaking at every knock of those men. Soon a couple of axes were heard, and still more insults toward them.

"We must fight our way out..." she sentenced.

"No," he exclaimed hastily, "You said it yourself; there are two of us and more of them. Besides, this would make us look like the monsters they think we are."

The truth in the boy's words sunk in as she had that little epiphany. Options were few, and they would soon run out.

With a leap, the girl soon climbed up the ladder to the small loft of that place. She had intended to use it as a shelter while hiding from those men, but it was now useless.

She looked out from the small window; four men were trying various ways to break it down near the door. Far away, a man was arguing with a woman.

The neighing of one of the horses reminded the pair of where they were. The boy watched the equine and soon had an idea.

The kid told her, "Idda said there were a couple of towns if we followed the forest road..."

The girl turned to the brown-skinned boy.

"Sounds good, but getting there would be difficult..." the girl looked at her new companion, pointing to the horses in there. "are you serious?"

"I wouldn't want to rob Idda after she helped me," he said, grieved. "But escaping through the woods on foot would be a good way to get caught..."

"Can you ride?" she asked.

"No, do you?"

The marked girl grabbed her meager belongings from the loft and walked down where her fellow and the horses were. Her dark eyes stared into the horse's ones.

"How will we get out of here?" she asked.

The girl lost herself for a few seconds in the animal's black eyes; There was something she could hear.

The boy turned his look to the door with a couple of hatchets that damaged the wood. But fortunately, the woodcutters couldn't see them, as the sunlight blocked them.

"I have an idea."

Still, with her eyes on the animal and her hands stroking its muzzle, she asked, "Do you think it will work?"

"Not really," the boy said, soon sketching a smile. "but it's trying it or lose the head."

The pointy-eared girl just raised her eyebrow and prepared the pair of horses. Then, she sighed, "Well, let's do it."