The Heart Line
The flame haired monster never saw him coming. Her recent kill was still pouring forth crimson life when he swiftly tore the vampire's head from her body. He disassembled her stone corpse easily and watched in disgust as the limbs wriggled in the dirt. He started a small fire with long practiced ease and watched as her pyre glowed brilliantly against the starlit fall sky. Stumbling upon her had happened purely by chance, but when his eyes locked on her his instincts demanded action. This one was not the first, and hopefully she wouldn't be the last. Killing her had been exhilarating, and he wanted more. He decided to trace her trail. Perhaps there were more, she may have been living with others. He had no way of knowing she would be missed by no one.
Through miles of dense forest and across a narrow mountain fed river he traced her careless tracks. He began to suspect her to have been alone, undisturbed, for quite some time to become so thoughtless, most would have created false trails or varied their movements from ground to trees. He tracked relentlessly throughout the night. What else did he have to occupy his time? His was a lonely existence and he lived it by choice. He relied on no one, for he had no one. His mind flashed back through the years, back to a time when the world made sense, a time before be became what he was. But it had happened. He had left and never looked back. Who would have understood anyway?
His rambling thoughts ground to a halt when he reached the base of a small mountain. Up its jagged side he could clearly trace the red-headed female's scent, but there was something else. Another scent, a human scent? A rough path, gouged over time by dragging an item of substantial size repeatedly up the side of the mountain, led him to an open cavity in the solid wall of rock. Inside the smell was terrible. It stank of dirt and filth, old blood and rot. He almost turned away, but his movement was arrested by the sounds which reached his keen ears. There in the cave beat a weak heart, accompanied by the grating sound of rasping breath. Curiosity piqued, he stepped hesitantly into the stale atmosphere. As he drew closer it became clear that the heartbeat belonged to a young woman. He crouched down beside her still form, amazed and disgusted in equal measure. The girl was very obviously naked, but her body was so battered that her nudity was not the first thing that drew one's focus. Long lacerations ran the length of her form, mostly from the waist down. His mind quickly connected the abrasions to the path he'd just encountered and realized that it was her body that had marked the landscape. She was also grossly emaciated. Every bone jutted dramatically out of thin pale skin. He looked around the small space and saw a multitude of carcasses littering the floor. Rats, rabbits, something that looked like it might have been a squirrel, all scraped to the bone by human teeth. Had she been living off of raw wild animals? Dark mottled bruises covered the other many cuts and scrapes adorning her frame. He suspected her hair was brown, though it was impossible to tell through the grime that matted and stuck the strands together into something resembling rudimentary dreadlocks.
He sighed, what the hell was he supposed to do with a human woman? He couldn't just leave her here to die, but what would happen if he took her somewhere? Would she try to tell people she had been held prisoner by a vampire? That would go over well. She'd be hauled off to a mental institution before she finished the sentence, "No, they really sparkle in the sun!" He would take her to his secluded home and see what, if anything, he could do for her. Having made his decision, he reached out to touch her arm to see if she would wake. Nothing. No change in respiration, heart rate, nothing. Hoping she wouldn't wake when he moved her, he slowly slid his hands under her gaunt frame and tucked her against his strong chest. It felt good to hold her, though he felt a tiny bit depraved for even having the thought. He must have been alone far too long. Yes, that was it, too long without human companionship. He made his was carefully down the mountain path, disheartened by the way her limp limbs wobbled and flapped.
It took a couple of hours to reach his hideaway, moving slowly as he was. At no time during the journey did she show any sign of waking. The sun was just peeking over the horizon when his cabin came into view. He shifted her much-too-light body slightly to work the door open then stepped into the welcome darkness. A small fire in the hearth was the only illumination in the one room cabin. It was a simple but sturdy structure, built with his own two hands when he decided to settle here some time ago. It was nothing special, but it was his sanctuary. He lived mostly off the land. Material possesions meant little to him. Scratching his head a moment later, he did think that it would be nice if he had access to some clothes for her to wear, but he'd have to see about that later. Right now she would stick to whatever she wore, so the point was moot.
He draped some tanned animal hides out on the floor and eased her onto them as gently as he was able. He cringed as some of the congealing sores on her back peeled away from his arms. Grabbing a rudely carved bowl he strode purposefully out of the cabin to the stream that cut through the land a few yards away. Once back inside, he peered around, finally finding what he needed next - a scrap of what used to be one of his shirts. Mind fixed firmly on the task ahead, he began cleaning her methodically, checking each area he worked on and cataloging the injuries uncovered. He started with her face. Dark circles lined the deep depressions around her eyes and a livid hand print marked her right cheek. Her lips were dry and cracked. The gauntness of her face made it almost impossible to tell what she would have looked like at a healthy body weight. Bruises liberally marked her slender neck, finger marks clearly discernible. Her left shoulder was dislocated and he honestly began to doubt that she would survive the night when she failed to react to him resetting it. He thought of what he knew how to cook that she would possibly be able to consume as he cleaned her upper torso as quickly as possible. He forced himself to slow down and pay more attention to the girl when he discovered that some of her ribs were cracked. He cleaned that area extra gently, careful not to push on the damaged ribs. He continued down her body, shaking his head in disgust at the extent of the damage. Her thighs and shins were practically shredded, giving him the impression that she had been dragged by her hair, leaving her legs to take the brunt of the abuse of the unforgiving terrain.
After finishing both legs and refilling the bowl with clean water twice more, he moved to the other side of her body, intending to clean her right arm before flipping her to do her back. He dragged the cloth over her shoulder, revealing more frighteningly pale flesh, dipped the rag again and removed more dirt from her upper arm and elbow. He froze when his work uncovered a very distinctive mark on her right wrist. It made fury roll through him to see the scar, even as it made him wonder how she was still living - well technically living, but only just. He glared at the mark as if he could remove its existence by pure malice alone. It was a shiny whitish silver, chilly under the pad of his thumb. The scar showed in perfect detail where two rows of teeth, both upper and lower, had pierced her flesh, and he traced the faint ribbons of silver that creeped from the edges, highlighting the path of delicate veins burned forever by immortal poison. Knowing he would have to wait indefinitely for that story, he finished her hand and rolled her slowly onto her stomach before wincing as he looked over her back. She appeared to have been lashed, kicked, and were those burns? He was starting to regret killing the red-head so fast. Looks like she might have deserved a little torture herself. Meticulously he worked over the planes of her back, it had far more debris encrusted within the sores, considering she had been lying on her back when he discovered her. He was thankful that she was unconscious through all the discomfort he knew he was causing her, but would she ever wake?
After cleaning and inspecting more nooks and crannies than he would have ever been allowed to approach if she had been conscious, he stepped back and looked her over. She was clean now, but that only served to bring attention to how massively disgusting her hair was. He made another trip to the stream and worked on one slow section at a time to remove the long encrusted grime from her waist length hair. It was, in fact, brown he discovered and surprisingly soft given its original state. He lost count of how many times he had to refill his bowl with clean water, but when he finished he was very satisfied with the results. Sacrificing one of his few decent shirts, he tore away some strips and lightly bound her ribs to help keep them stable. Then he took another large animal hide and tucked it lightly around her before leaving the cabin once again, this time to catch her something for dinner.
Rabbit boiling merrily in a pot over the fire, he turned his attention once more to the girl. He was relieved to see that most all of her injuries had formed light scabs throughout the course of the day. Clothing would treat her skin much better now. Having her wake up disoriented, in pain, and naked of all things, in a strange place was not at the top of his priority list. He brought over another shirt, a black tee - plenty big enough to be a short dress on her tiny figure - and eased it over her head, pulling her pile of hair through then shimmying it down, mere increments at a time, pausing at the proper height to feed her limp arms through the holes. Finally her body was covered to his satisfaction and he re-wrapped her in the hide blanket.
Hours passed and he did nothing but stare at the girl and wonder. He had so many questions, but would she even be in any state to answer them? Again he questioned just what he had gotten himself into. He had no business trying to look after the girl, but if not him, then who? He thought perhaps in the coming days he might have to chance a venture into civilization. If he could be sure she knew that no one would believe what kind of creature had abducted her, she could possibly have a home to return to. Home, something he would never have again, just a lonely existence in seclusion. It was better that way. If it hadn't been such a long time since he'd lost control, he would have felt that perhaps the girl was in just as much danger with him as with the she-demon he liberated her from. Screams cut off by a wet gurgle and a thump on the floor assaulted his memory. There was so much blood, it painted the walls, and then it was over.
Once the rabbit had cooked through and produced a broth, he ladled up a bit and crossed the room to sit beside the girl's head. He had no idea if this was going to work, but he felt like it needed to be tried. Slowly and carefully he pulled her into a reclining position, scooting behind her back so that her weight could lay on his chest. He then raised the bowl to her lips, only allowing the slightest splash to wet them. Nothing. Dammit! She would die on him for sure if he couldn't feed her! He tried again, this time he pulled her lower lip open a fraction with his free thumb and dribbled the warm liquid inside her mouth. A jolt of satisfaction surged through him when either the taste, the wet, or the warmth prompted her to swallow. A moment later her tongue prodded her lip as if searching out the source of nourishment. He tipped the bowl slowly once more, noticing her lips forming lightly around the edges of the bowl as she sipped weakly at the offering. The pair continued on like this for some minutes, but nowhere near enough broth had been consumed when her mouth went lax once more. Her head, which had been straining toward the bowl, gave up its struggle and she was deeply asleep once more. He returned her to the impromptu bed and served himself a portion before turning in for the night.
He was roused from his slumber by a quiet keening noise. Through the fog of sleep he didn't immediately realize what he was hearing. But as his senses slowly returned to him he sucked in a sharp breath and looked to the girl. She had tears streaming from her closed lids. High pitched whines tore from her throat, and he thought his heart might have broken from the mere sound of her distress. He crossed the room quickly, eased down beside her, and replaced her covering, which had slipped off at some point during the night. Her breaths were stuttered and she was visibly shivering. Not knowing how she would react he tentatively took her hand in his, startling slightly when she instantly grabbed on and squeezed with a force he wouldn't have thought her capable of exerting."Warm" she whispered, barely a breath in the air, but he heard her loud and clear. "I'm so sorry" she said. "I was stupid Jake. It was my fault, not yours." He wondered who Jake was, her boyfriend, brother? "So cold, Jake." She mumbled, turning her face toward him. With a small shrug he stretched his long frame against hers, offering his warmth. A contented sigh passed her lips and she worked her face into his neck before she was silent and still once more. He watched over her until the wee hours of the morning, when sleep caught him again. He didn't notice when panicked brown eyes snapped open beside him.