Pink foam was starting to appear at the Sheriff’s lips as he struggled for breath. Will held on firmly, easing him down against a tree. Dying of a collapsed lung wasn’t a fast death, and Malcolm would know exactly what was happening to him as he grew light-headed, his chest filled with air, and his heart stopped beating properly.
“It’s time for you to get a little taste of what you’ve been dishing out,” Will said calmly, between clenched teeth. “For killing Much, for assaulting me, for tormenting Marian, for torturing and killing Tuck. You can die for a while, and see how you like it.” He let go, making eye contact with his enemy. “Go to hell, Sheriff.”
Will took a step back to stand tall over him, prepared to kick him down if he tried to get up again, and sensed Much stepping up beside him. "You got anything to add before he's dead?" he asked his friend.