366 Paying the Price

"Information is not enough for the harm we have done to your leg," the father insisted.

Thomas yanked a fire poker out of his leg with a pained groan. He thanked his luck that its barbed tip had rusted away and that it missed his vitals. The wound healed with a breath of steam, eating a portion of his body fat. He put the fire poker on the desk. Blood dripped from the tip but since it was his, his hunger wasn't stimulated by the smell of it. Drip. Drip. Drip. "It couldn't have been helped, considering the condition. Some of the blame falls on me. I am experienced in combat but you three fought in a way I've never seen before."

"I'm sorry," the girl said. "It was all just a blur."

"It's fine," Thomas said.

"B-but your leg, I stabbed it didn't I?" She pointed to his knee but there wasn't a wound anymore. She furrowed her brows as she looked at the bloody fire poker, still dripping blood.

Drip. Another drop of blood fell.