Fifth hour, part 6

Ronzio—stood in the corner, from where he could've thrown a knife. Maybe. Could he have? His movements weren't jerky, but he wasn't moving much in the first place.

Calvo—sat in the center, right next to the knife. But he was wounded. His movements were strained, but that was because of the wound. His breathing was faint and rapid, and the pulse in his neck fluttered like a butterfly.

The scent of his blood was heavy in the shelter.

What had confused Myrna?

Could Calvo have been?..

The decision had to be made, now, before more questions could be answered. Something had to be done.

Cael made a decision, razor-sharp and solid like a blade. Whether or not it was correct, he was ready to accept the consequences.

He leaped towards Calvo, flapping his wings once to propel himself even faster. Dieter shouted, trying to get in his way, but Cael pushed him aside.