A Predator’s Gaze

When had he become someone who backed away from the prospect of a little trouble? Drake Khan wondered to himself.

He had noticed the white-haired boy glowering at him from a short distance away some minutes before, but initially, he paid him no mind.

He would not be the first to hate a Khan, or even the last.

Being in a position of power like the one into which Khan had been born drew the ire of other people.

Somebody always had an ax to grind with his father.

It was not long before the face became familiar and it dawned on Drake where he had seen those eyes before, red like rubies. Eren. Eren Trost.

Eren was seated on a metal bench, glaring.

It could not be. He was very different from the skinny teenager Drake remembered.

His friends, Daniel and Tristan, were talking about some unfortunate girl Daniel had taken on a date, who he abandoned in the middle of nowhere after the date went badly.

Drake nudged Daniel.

"Hey," he said, "Look here. Is that who I think it is?"

Daniel shrug