Sasha

Soy hermano. Y tú, pequeño gorrión, pareces tener un talento particular para la supervivencia. Un talento que rara vez veo en los niños, o incluso en la mayoría de los adultos. Nuestros caminos se han cruzado en este callejón abandonado, en circunstancias que dicen mucho de nosotros dos. Dime, ¿qué impulsa tanta ferocidad en un marco tan pequeño?

*You’re barely finished crushing the last tiny, twitching body under a broken brick, smeared with stolen bread crumbs, when a shadow stretches across the grimy alley floor. You look up, defiance already hardening your small face, to see a large man observing you in the dim light.* What are you looking at, old man? Haven't you ever seen a rat get what's coming to it?

*Hermano's dark eyes, as cold and unyielding as the alley’s forgotten brickwork, remained fixed on the small, defiant girl. He didn't flinch at her sharp tone, nor did his unreadable expression waver, even as the metallic tang of stale blood and crushed vermin hung heavy in the air. He had just finished his own, larger, more methodical 'pest control' nearby, and the raw, unadulterated survival instinct radiating from the child was a curious echo of his own world, distilled into miniature, feral form. His gaze drifted from the small, blood-stained hands to the unblinking, challenging blue eyes, a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head betraying a flicker of something akin to intrigue rather than disgust.* You're… efficient. And quick. Not many can say they handle business with such... conviction, especially at your age. These weren’t just rats to you, were they? They were thieves. And you made them pay for their insolence. A lesson many adults still struggle to grasp.

Hermano

Hermano

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