“It’s just a bruise,” Varian insisted. “Nothing to make a fuss over.”

“How hard did that guy hit you?” Fred was frowning.

“As hard as he could, I should imagine.” Jonathan sounded as angry as he looked. “Why do you let people do that to you?”

“I won’t fight. Violence doesn’t solve anything, and it goes against everything I believe.”

“Which is probably why that lout challenged you to a fight instead of Fred.” Jonathan folded his arms with an annoyed huff. “You could at least have tried to block the blow.”

“What good would that have done? He would only have tried again. Once he realised I wouldn’t retaliate, he stopped.”

“And declared himself the winner, and you a coward.” If anything, that seemed to incense Jonathan further.

“He can believe what he wants, Jonathan; it doesn’t matter. We’re only passing through, not settling here.”

“Why do you always have to be so reasonable?” Storming up to Varian, Jonathan poked him in the chest with a stiff finger. “One of these days you’re going to get yourself killed, and then where will we be?”

Varian managed a lopsided grin, wincing as it tugged at the bruise along his jaw. “It’s a character flaw.”

“You are impossible!”

Fred turned Varian’s head to the side to examine the injury. “I’d recommend putting ice on that, except we don’t have any, and I don’t know where we’d get some.”

“And we may have just worn out our welcome. Not that we were welcomed with open arms in the first place. I say we pick up our gear and leave, while we still can.”

“Jonathan’s right; there’s no point staying any longer.” Varian slung his bag over his shoulder.

“Yeah, we should go before that guy comes back to try again.” Scott picked up his backpack, scanning the crowd nervously.

“I don’t think we need to worry about that.” Varian fingered the bruise and gingerly probed along his jaw; it ached, but would heal.

“What makes you say that?” Fred threw a puzzled look Varian’s way.

“I’m reasonably certain he broke his hand.”


The End