Sturgis hit the ground, splashing warm red blood not only from his nose, but now his mouth.

            He could, had he wanted to, crushed this puny man… but, the ten soldiers around him dissuaded him from doing so.

"Idiot!" The king spat. Saliva flew out from his fat lips. "It was one man!" He paced around impatiently, like awaiting the results of something important enough to beat someone.

            Sturgis slowly rose, bowing his head still in fake humility. Stupid boy. Gods damned peasant. He'd wring his neck. In front of that blasted giantess, his enormous whore. How did he know she was his whore? He just knew. Call it hate intuition.

"ONE MAN, STURGIS!" The king walloped his fist into Sturgis' head again. The king shook his hand, apparently hurt by Sturgis' hard head. Sturgis wiped the blood from his mouth again, and glared at Ilicain, like a dog stares at an abusive owner. Only the pain in his eyes was not fear, no, something far more dangerous… hate.

            The king looked back. He had no idea…

"I will accompany you this time… and we will kill the both of them."

            He started to walk out of the room, but stopped: a flash of evil.

"No… we will make him pay… dearly." He turned to an assistant. "Bring me the apothecary. We have a big problem to eliminate."

"So.... Matthew...."

            Amelia still fixed her eyes on her cup of water.

"What's next?"

            Matt sipped his own water. He felt a pang in his left shoulder; a bit of blood came out of the wound. Not fully closed.  He had removed the arrow and bandaged it, but somehow the blood kept coming. It had been a full week since the battle with Sturgis, and the wound kept opening. That was bad news. The good news, however, was that his leg was now about healed: he could run at least. He might have to return back to a close by town for treatment.

"I really don’t know."  He lowered the cup. "I suppose we should leave this place. Sturgis probably went back to his king and told him what happened… my treason." He spat on the side. "Dammit! I shouldn't have let him live." He gulped down the rest of the beverage.

"…Gross, Matt."

He caught himself, and wiped up the spit.

"Oops. Sorry." He didn’t look up.

            Amelia had seen death before: she'd seen plenty of humans killed; stomped, eaten and what not. While there was some degree of terror in the eyes of the victims, she always understood that it was food for them. Natural, right? Like a deer to a human… right? But the way Matt killed those soldiers… the image of spear entering the boy's head. He seemed to drop to the ground instantly. But the look on his face…. It cried 'mother' to Amelia. Scared and fearful… was that how the humans in her homeland went? She didn't want to see anymore of that…

"I'm kind of glad… that…" The last part was mumbled.

"What?"

"I'm kind of glad… that you didn't kill him."

            Matt's eyes widened. "What? Why? They were trying to hurt us. Trying to hurt you, Amelia… I couldn't let that happen."

            She looked at him for a second, almost like she was evaluating him.

"Matt…" She folded her hands over her heart, and closed her eyes. It looked to Matt like she was praying. "You turn into something so… different… when you fight."

            She looked back at him, tears starting to form in her eyes. "I don’t like it. Not one bit… You're not you, Matt, when you fight." Tears started, and her voice quavered. "I don’t want to see you like that again… ever!"

"Amelia… I have to fight. It's my nature." His voice was natural, calm… ice. Such nonchalance, the way he said it. Like, 'I'm a blacksmith,' or, 'I'm a farmer.' 

            Amelia started to sob, no matter how hard she tried not to. "B-but… you don't have to! We could face them; negotiate with them… please…. I just don't want to see you hurt…"

"Amelia-"

"No, Matt; listen to me: I-"

"No, you listen TO ME!" Matt's voice thundered, like evil. Amelia stopped breathing for a moment.

"You think the world is just some kind of fairytale, don’t you? That all the people in the godsdammed world are friendly and reasonable, and that they can be persuaded? It's insane! Especially from a giant! No one my size in their right mind would even listen to you! They'd as soon call the guard to come and take your head! And they would Amelia, they would. Why do I know this? Because I am one of them."

            Amelia sighed, trying to hide her sobs.

"Have you even tried talking instead of fighting, Matt? Someone intelligent like you could do well with words! You're so intent on fighting, like it's the only thing you know how to do!"

            Matt looked back up, eyes only.

"So what if that’s the truth? I do kill for a living… Had I not known you, you would have ended up the same."

            Amelia's felt her a heart, it was like someone kicked it, or punched it. Like someone had cut the cords within it, and the cold poison of reality iced through her veins. So… cold… She shivered.

"Matt… you can’t… I know you-"

"NO YOU DON'T, AMELIA!" He was standing up now. His voice rivaled that of any loud giant. Maybe it was the acoustics in the rock cave. "You don’t know me, nor my mind. You want to know something?" He clenched his fists, looked down. Blood came out of his hands… he started laughing. "You have no idea what I've done. If you knew, even a pure soul like yours would hate me like the Devil. I've killed, Amelia…. many… men, women…. Even children…"

            Matt's eyes flashed back to the Crusades in the East. He remembered the look of the boy, not five years of age, stuck on his sword. He wished he could die. Anything rather than living with that sad, sad, painful face staring at him.

            Matt suppressed a tear, and looked back up at Amelia.

"You have no idea."

            Amelia herself was crying a bit now.

"Why… why do you have to do that, Matt?" She wiped her tears with her hands; it reminded him of the way children cry. "Can't you just lay down your spear and live? Please… I'll even talk for you… please. Just be at peace… with me, Mattie…"

            Matt held his hands up and laughed.

"Still intent on your dreams, huh?" He stopped, and a grave look crossed his face.

"I guess you haven't learned a thing about the world, or me for that matter."

            Amelia looked like she'd seen a ghost. She glared her teeth, and slammed her fists on the table. Her red hair came down on her face.

"Matthew, you ass! It is not a dream; it's truth! How dare you look me in the eye and rebuke my life goal! You think it's easy to live like this? To hold onto such a noble idea in this hard life, where my kind is hunted for sport and gold? Where lives are treated like trash, and thrown away so easily? You don’t know, Matt. You think all life is about is to kill or be killed. That disgusts me! If you think sticking a spear in someone's head solves problems, then be my guest! Just keep on killing, killing, killing, then die!"

            Matt looked at her, still grave. He turned around, and walked to the edge of the table, then slide down the rope.

"Matt, where do you think you're going?" He didn’t answer.

            He grabbed his spear, untied Arod from the table post, and mounted on.

"Matt…" She started crying again. He reached the door, and turned around.

"I obviously can't handle your purity. Thank you for your kindness. It's good to see there's still some good in the world… albeit very little. Stay away from this place; Sturgis will come back. He wants me, the traitor."

            His grave look left, replaced by a sadness that Amelia had never seen.

"Go home, Amelia. There's no future for you here."

            And with that, he left the only woman he ever loved, weeping at the table.