The Altered.

Chapter IV.

Miles saw blood.

It wasn't his own. It was Aaron's.

Aaron was falling, Eira was wailing, Miles was standing still and watching, breath caught in his throat, as a person - a real person, somebody that was much older than any of the children - lifted a knife to aim another blow for Aaron, who was now on the ground.

The man could well have been a beast, frothing at the mouth and slashing with inexperience at anything within range. His grin was a savage thing and was not reflected in his eyes. He'd come out of nowhere, blade at the ready and movements soundless. Even as he attacked, he said nothing, made no noise whatsoever. He was trembling, as if whatever emotion was coursing through his body didn't belong there and he couldn't restrain it.

Whatever was wrong with the man didn't matter. He had one intention that was as clear as day already: kill, kill, kill.

Miles was frozen; his feet, his breath, his mind had all just stopped working.

What was he meant to do?

Blood stained the previously spotless road. It dirtied the attacker's hands, Aaron's shirt, and Miles' ankles, too. A reminder of how awfully close he was standing to what might just be murder if he hesitated one more second.

Miles lunged for the man at the same time as somebody new came careening off the nearby apartment balcony.

At first, Miles thought the girl was falling. Then he realised that she had jumped, and held a knife dangerously close to herself. It was clear to see she had no intention of hurting Aaron - her fierce eyes were fixed on the uncontrollable assailant.

In one quick movement, the girl's knife found its home in the man's neck.

The girl landed on both feet, wrenching her knife from the neck of the now-limp stranger, and she let out a whimper concurrently. Miles felt his knees quake, threatening to collapse beneath him. From nearby, Eira let out a long, pained whine, and Aaron continued to writhe in agony on the ground.

Miles had never even had a nightmare like what he'd just seen.

The blade dropped from the assailant's hands as he fell backward. His eyes, which had been previously full of bright recklessness and eagerness, were now dull and empty.

Then they burst.

His pupils dilated for hardly a second before they erupted like a water-balloon pierced by a needle. Black fluid oozed from his eyes, spilling down his cheeks. Simultaneously, his visible veins became the same sickly ebony, and his lips followed.

If Miles saw this, he did not allow himself to acknowledge it.

He looked at the girl instead and started weakly, "You-"

"Killed him," finished the girl breathily, remorse absent from her voice and instead replaced with something like confusion. She let her knife clatter to the ground. "What, did you want me to let him kill your friend instead?"

Miles didn't tell her that Aaron was not, in fact, his friend. Miles was still in utter shock - he didn't even think his brain was functioning properly at the moment. He'd just witnessed a murder and he could hardly string together enough words to finish a sentence. Even a scream couldn't claw its way up his throat.

Eira was in shock, too, it seemed. She didn't even race to Aaron's side.

"Well, say something," said the stranger. Miles pried his eyes from Aaron to the girl, signs that he was terrified scrawled all over his face.

Miles still didn't say anything, so the stranger took a step forward. If Miles could manage to move his feet, he'd have stepped back. "Listen," she said, tone laced with warning, "I didn't want to kill the guy. But it was either that or watch Blondie here get murdered instead." When she said this, she pointed to Aaron. She lifted her eyes, scanning the sky, then the long, empty road. "We have to move. We're too exposed here. I have explanations to give, but not until we're safe."