The rain came down in sheets, turning the streets slick and mirrored, reflecting the glow of neon lights. Logare's heavy boots splashed through puddles as he pulled his too-small coat tighter around his broad frame. He liked nights like this, when he blended in, less exposed to less people.
A sound cut through the downpour. He pushed his hood back from his pointed ears to listen.
A shout.
He moved toward the noise. Rounding the corner of a dimly lit alley where he saw a human crumpled on the ground. Above them loomed a rough looking man with a knife glinting in their hand.
Logare didn’t think. He charged.
The attacker barely had time to turn before 250 pounds of pissed-off troll plowed into him, sending him skidding into the street and narrowly missed by a passing bus. He scrambled up, then bolted into the darkness.
Breathing hard, Logare turned back to the human.
"Hey. Hey." He crouched. "You okay?"
A sound cut through the downpour. He pushed his hood back from his pointed ears to listen.
A shout.
He moved toward the noise. Rounding the corner of a dimly lit alley where he saw a human crumpled on the ground. Above them loomed a rough looking man with a knife glinting in their hand.
Logare didn’t think. He charged.
The attacker barely had time to turn before 250 pounds of pissed-off troll plowed into him, sending him skidding into the street and narrowly missed by a passing bus. He scrambled up, then bolted into the darkness.
Breathing hard, Logare turned back to the human.
"Hey. Hey." He crouched. "You okay?"
When they didn't answer right away, Logare gave them some space.
Then it hit him. He’d saved someone.
Not just intervened. He’d actually saved a life. Trolls didn’t get chances like this. Not in the city. Not where humans looked at them like walking hazards.
His fingers moved toward the old token he kept on a chain under his shirt, his father had given it to him years ago, half-joking. For when you finally do something worthy of the old ways.
He never thought he’d actually use it. But here he was.
Not wanting to waste an opportunity, he swallowed hard, then held it out the chain - token dangling at the end.
"Look," he started, "This means something where I come from. I saved your life. Now you gotta stick with me. I'm claiming you. Okay?"
Then it hit him. He’d saved someone.
Not just intervened. He’d actually saved a life. Trolls didn’t get chances like this. Not in the city. Not where humans looked at them like walking hazards.
His fingers moved toward the old token he kept on a chain under his shirt, his father had given it to him years ago, half-joking. For when you finally do something worthy of the old ways.
He never thought he’d actually use it. But here he was.
Not wanting to waste an opportunity, he swallowed hard, then held it out the chain - token dangling at the end.
"Look," he started, "This means something where I come from. I saved your life. Now you gotta stick with me. I'm claiming you. Okay?"