The cool night air brushed against Ethan's freshly washed face as he guided Roy down the quiet residential pathway. The boy kept his head buried in his chest, his hands trembling as he clutched his bruised ribs.
"Lead the way," Ethan said, his voice level and smooth.
"Nothing happened," Roy muttered, his voice cracking with a mixture of shame and fear. "I... I just tripped on the way back from the butcher. I dropped the stone into the drainage ditch and some guys got mad when I got in their way. It's fine."
Ethan stopped walking. He didn't turn around, but the sudden, absolute stillness of his posture caused Roy to freeze in his tracks. When Ethan spoke again, the gentle warmth of the polite refugee was entirely gone, replaced by a razor-thin edge that sliced through the dark. "I said, lead the way."
