Haw

We'd stare them down. We'd yank them away from the ones we'd grabbed. Sometimes we'd chase after those lazy cats, searching for a hole to escape through, panting for breath. Sometimes we'd roam the streets, scaring off strangers with, "What are you doing here?" They'd turn pale. They'd look like they'd been beaten. In their words, they'd be like someone who'd been beaten up. His name is Mikasa. ...