[center][color=CD5C5C][i]"How had it come to this?"[/i][/color][/center]

A simple question crossed the gnoll's mind as he stared not at the boy baring his miniature fangs, but at the deep cut the woman behind him had suffered. Suffering enough to drive a human child to attack a full-grown gnoll, with stumbling steps, shaking hands, and a knife he believed was a sword of legend. All the while the word "monster" was spat. A cursory glance of the scene to his side, of the crossroads, of his options, of his very future, Bren spied a gnoll footprint.

[color=CD5C5C][i]"Had one of his own brought this suffering?"[/i][/color]

A deep, low growl escaped Bren as he considered the possibility, before returning to the present situation. The boy and girl were scared to death, and their mother was fading fast. He had seen this sight many a time in his home, of families soon to be rent asunder. And this time, Bren had the power to deny this parting. Without missing a beat, Bren would pick up the boy's dagger and slash it across his own palm by grabbing it, the tough hide ensuring it was as shallow a cut as a knife could manage, but still show that blood had been drawn. 

[color=CD5C5C][b]"Child is strong. Bested me. Bren bound by honor to save. Brave child, raise head,"[/b][/color] Bren said, before suddenly scooping the two up with a swift motion, holding them in one arm, while effortlessly picking the mother up in the other, keeping her head level as he started to run. Run, with all his bestial might, to reach Goldrun before the mother lost her life. He had sufficient coin for a healer, he thought, and wouldn't take no for an answer from the children. Pressed once more against the boy's hand was the dagger that Bren had harmed himself with, the gnoll's blood on the blade. Run and run, Bren would fly until dirt became cobbled road, and until he caught the scent of a healer's herbs ground into powder.