Dracula slumped in the trees as Mina urged the horses away. When even the faintest wagon rattle was no longer audible, he levered himself to his feet and walked slowly out into the bloody clearing.
(alone alone you're alone alone!) Dracula ignored the singing voices, letting them begin shrieking and still fighting to block them out. Mina was definitely alive, and from what he had heard and seen he strongly suspected the rest of the party was alive, or at least most of them. He wanted them to stay that way, too. With this in mind, he spent some time absorbing a few large patches of the blood in the clearing, and then left to find the horses. It was likely the humans would seek out his castle, but they would need horses and supplies to survive in the winter mountains.
He wanted nothing more than to be with them, not alone, alone, in the icy night. Mina's look of fright stopped him from finding them immediately. They'd be too frightened or would be trying to kill him. And that was not what he wanted, at all. He wasn't sure what he did want, but he alone...no. He did not want to be alone.
First things first. Find their horses, bring the humans the supplies their fragile mortal frames needed to survive. If he needed to, he could call the weather and trap them in the mountains while he decided what to do with them.
It was slow work, frustratingly slow. The feast of blood had put him back together, but he felt...disconnected, as though his parts were merely associated with each other rather than solidly connected. The healing was merely superficial. He'd never been so badly wounded since his death, never, and the trembling weakness he was experiencing bouts of and the fatigue frightened him. As the night wore on, he felt better, stronger, but still weak. It gave him some confidence though that this was only a passing phase, and that he would recover given time and his coffin.
He hoped, sincerely hoped, that they had not damaged his coffin. It was fundamental to his health, a source of rest and peace, and the thought that it could be at risk pushed him to leave everything and rush off after the humans. No, he could not meet with them, not yet. With a quiet groan, he continued his work.
The horses had scattered but in the nature of herd animals, had rejoined into two small groups. Neither had gone far, no more than a mile or so. The afternoon of racing away had tired them out and they had not been fed, either, leaving them weak and willing to follow him with a few gentle words and a pat on the neck. Within an hour, they were back at the bandit's camp, tack removed and grain from the saddle bags laid out for them. The supplies were next, stacked carefully near the center of the clearing to keep the scavenging creatures of the mountains away from them. It was tiring, unexpectedly and frighteningly so, and Dracula found himself scooping the bloody snow up, eating mouthfuls of the red-drenched chilly substance to feed himself.
At that point, he returned to the bodies. He'd gorged on the easily-accessible blood, but he clearly needed more. Each corpse was already drained, most of the blood congealed and unobtainable, and he found himself ripping apart ribcages to remove and drain the hearts and great vessels of the body. The horses were spooking, pulling at their leads as the scent of blood reached them, and with a groan he pulled the bodies away from the clearing and downwind before finishing his meals. The bodies were lukewarm, the blood barely warming him. And cold, he was so cold. Cold should not affect him. But still, his blood moved sluggishly as he worked, joints stiffening in the bitter chill. Damn those men, to be so injured, so desperate as to be scavenging on dead bodies.
Fire. He hadn't built a fire in centuries, had never needed one. But a fire, it would be needed. A few dead trees had been spotted while catching the horses, and with vampiric strength they were easy enough to break off and bring back. The matches were found in the supplies after a brief search. It took time for him to remember, with his cold-mazed, exhausted mind, how to begin a fire but soon enough it was flickering away in front of him. The vampire sat as close as he could without scorching, basking in the flames. When warm, he would be able to load the horses, then begin the slow and cold journey to his castle. But for now...there was heat, and his frozen body soaked it up gratefully. As the heat warmed him, chasing that painful freeze away from his joints and extremities, he found himself relaxing, almost dozing, so tired, so very tired.
So tired that he didn't hear the return of the humans until they were only a few hundred yards away, the rattle of the wagon finally piercing his fatigue-clouded mind. With a start, he staggered upright, hurrying to the trees and their concealment before the humans could see him.