They had been together for as long as they could remember.
Though one was a coward and the other a fool, both shared the same parasitic tendency of clinging to Trud to leech off his wealth, the same rotten brain that suggested picking up pets to play with, and the same crimes they were now trying to run away from.
That was the relationship between Henry and Francis.
They even shared the same instinct for which path to take—heading down the dark mountain toward the main road to call and beg for help.
"Stop following me, bastard!"
"You're the one behind me!"
But all those similarities would end tonight, as each would suffer a different fate.
Within the darkness of the night, they stumbled through the rough mountain terrain, dragging their injured legs—each still pierced with an arrow. They fell again and again, tripping on roots, stones, and pits.
