'They noticed me.'
The boy met their attention without lowering his eyes.
He should have been shaking.
He knew that much. These beings had crossed distances faster than he could follow and broken the land merely by fighting upon it.
Any one of them could kill him.
However, his breathing remained steady.
Even he did not understand it.
His mother lay behind him. His father's hand rested among the spilled coins. Looking at them hurt so badly that he could scarcely bear to turn his head.
And looking at the six-winged demon made him want to drive the sword through that smiling face.
But his fingers were steady around the hilt.
Why?
He had no answer.
He only knew that running would have been the sensible thing to do before their attention settled upon him.
Yet he had stayed.
For one thing, where would he go?
The road had become rubble. The houses were broken. Even if he reached the hills, how far could he run before something with wings like those caught him?
