"The fuck are you doing hitting a woman?! Get off her!!"
Aven's voice cut through the street, catching the men off guard.
The seven men jerked around. Faces scarred, busted teeth, and clothes soiled with mud, reeking of liquor.
One spat to the side, his words slurred. "Tha' ain't yer bizness. She's jus' trash shieldin' a thief!"
"We oughta gut 'em both, feed the mutt their crumbs!"
Another barked a laugh. "You lost?" They glanced down at the woman.
Her head still hung low, crouching, as she wrapped her arms tighter around a bleeding kid pressed against her chest. Dirt smeared across her torn white shirt.
"White freak's defendin' a black brat—funny, ain't it?" Another one spoke.
"I don't care. Move. You shouldn't treat someone like that." Aven said, taking a step further as he closed the space between he and the men.
Elian peeked from behind, staring at the poorly dressed men. He sighed heavily, glancing at the white haired woman protecting a child from them.
