Seth stood panting in the dimly lit alleyway, his scrawny chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The taste of blood filled his mouth from a split lip, and his dark skin was slick with sweat and grime. He could feel the heat radiating off his small horns as they twitched in agitation.

The three boys who had ambushed him earlier were retreating down the alley, their footsteps echoing off the crumbling brick walls. One of them called back over his shoulder, "This ain't over, freak! We'll get you next time!"

Seth spat a wad of blood onto the cracked pavement, a defiant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the pain. "Yeah? I'll be waiting, pendejos!" He flipped them off with both hands, the universal gesture of disrespect in this part of the wasteland, although nobody remembers its origin.

As the sound of the boys' retreat faded, Seth let out a shaky sigh and leaned back against the rough wall, his legs trembling from exhaustion. He knew he couldn't keep up this tough act forever - it took everything he had to hold his own against bullies like that. But what choice did he have? This was the only life he'd ever known, fighting to survive in the ruins of what used to be a thriving border town.