A/N: Sorry for the delay. I have been having an interesting time with getting my work for class done. Two essays due each Monday, followed by reading an entire book over the weekend, and two supplemental readings that are at least ten pages long, and then, then guess what? We have not one, but TWO major projects due at the end of the quarter. One is a fifteen, to seventeen page transcript of an interview, and the other is a seven to ten page essay on one subject of historical context that has something to do with the interview. We also have to write a bibliography on THAT, with plenty of citation that is at least THREE pages long.

Ever think the world is out to get you? Fffffffffff, when I signed up for this class they did not mention that it was going to include Graduate Level work. I'm not a Graduate. Most of the class hover around Sophomore, Junior status. Several are still Freshmen. I am thinking perhaps I should speak privately to the teachers… Cause they are obviously not taking into consideration the amount of time we have to study between… Everything else. .

Sorry, rant over.

Rating: T For gore/blood, ghoul and/or Zombie funliness.

Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever owned Hellsing. But god do I ever wish? Sorry, just had the mental image of me on a beach with Young-Walter or something.

Keeping Faith

Chapter Six: Knife

By: Tamuril Telrunye AKA Bamvivirie

Her feet carried her further into the forest, away from the telltale pulse of Power and Blood that was the man in red, as well as the acrid stink of Old Death that permeated the building she'd emerged from. The same stench of Old Death that seemed to seep off of the occasional ghoul that got close enough to become a victim of her Hound. The same stench that wafted past her from the direction of the thing-that-she-was-avoiding.

Her feet moved quietly over the spongy moss that dominated the ground cover in this portion of the forest with a sigh, and the change in ground cover was accompanied by a moist musty scent. Something that overpowered any older scents, drowning out all but save the scents that her nose seemed to deem The-Most-Important. Such as those given off by the Other-Two, or Her Hound, or better yet blood. Old-blood her mind knew without providing any details, 'Old blood, but still worth investigating'.

'Old blood could lead to old kills, but it could also lead to wounded prey. Wounded prey was the best for young hunters, wounded prey was less likely to fight back. More likely to give up, and die.'

It really was a most enticing scent, although she couldn't explain why. Her Hound frolicked through the trees around her, sniffing at things as she moved to follow the old trail 'Only by a few hours' another part of her said.

A glint in the moonlit stopped her short, silver sheen flaring deceptively. 'What was it?' Faith couldn't help but ponder as she looked at it, angling her head in the hopes of gaining a better view through the trees dread gnawing at her stomach. She KNEW this sort of thing, but how? A few more steps, a few more trees and her nose alerted her to the fact that she had reached the end of the Old-blood trail.

And with good reason, for in front of her tip sunk deep within dark tree bark sat a large silver hunting knife. The edge glinted red with dried blood, wooden handle encompassed with a singular dried bloody hand print.

The knife itself was easily as long as her forearm, double-edged and wickedly curved, gleaming promises that Faith was not entirely sure she wanted to partake in. And yet...

And yet she would be a fool to leave a weapon behind, particularly since she was in the way of needing one, and badly. More than once tonight she knew, without her Hound she would have become little more than a lovely red stain. If that.

No, she couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Reaching up, she grasped the handle and with a tug freed the long blade with an ease that she shouldn't have expected, but did. It felt oddly light in her hands, and as she moved it through the air testing its weight she felt it acceptable for her purposes... Whatever that meant. Yes, most suitable.

Movement out of the darkness behind her triggered something in her mind, as suddenly a creature lurched, Her Hound hot on its heels. She spun striking it in the throat, severing tendon, muscle and bone alike in one slash. This was Not Normal. Not normal for a human perhaps, but she sensed it would become normal for her.

The corpse collapsed in on itself as she looked at it, becoming little more than a pool of blood before she looked at Her Hound. It seemed to grin at her, a twisted self-satisfied grin that stretched its face in an unnaturally human way.

'Well done.'

She stared once more at her Hound, and she couldn't help but feel as though he were absurdly proud of her for some reason. As though letting this creature past its guard was intentional.

'And it was.' something told her.

A silence seemed to blanket the forest then, and her Hound moved to her side leaning heavily on her as her breath seemed to catch in her chest. There was something…

Old death, hot and intimidating putrid breath making her choke as she gasped for air around it. It was going to smother her, encompass her, devour her. It was a great hunger coupled with an insidious mind, and it wanted her…

She jolted looking around as she realized that she was still whole, herself and very much breathing. She had been seeing things, she had been hallucinating. An assertion that did not lend her the calm she'd been hoping for. Maybe she was mad, like a rabid dog, fit only to be put down. Maybe that man had been sent here to kill her.

'NO'said the Hound, leaning on her with enough force to make her stagger. 'Not mad, not bad. Different.'

Then what she'd seen, the feelings the suffocating, putrid thing that she'd seen, was the thing she'd been trying to get away from all this time? A silence greeted that thought, and she looked around suddenly aware of the unnatural silence. A warning seemed prevalent, and The Hound seemed to waiver for a moment before drawing close, and leaning on my side heavily, as if urging me to move.

She sniffed the air, looking around for a moment.

Old Death, putrid stench permeating the air around it, twisting all it touched into poison and ash…

She gagged before turning to bolt, Hound at her heels. Down passed the desiccated corpse, passed the clearing, back in the direction she come the sense of the Old Death never dissipating. A movement and suddenly she was laid out flat, fighting for breath as she scramble for an explanation as to how she come to be this way.

A cold clipped chuckle filled the air, and she looked up.

E/N: Kinda short, but it is progress...