Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Van Helsing characters. I only own Kida. The italicized composition also does not belong to me. It belongs to an anonymous writer.
Van Helsing: Blood Rain
Chapter Four: Cold Stumble
They began to tread against the thick snow, away from the looming edifice in the distance. Van Helsing limped as best he could to keep pace with the arm slung around Carl's shoulders. Both men prayed fervently that they would reach the gorge before they'd begin to hear the threatening wails in the distance.
Several times did they stumble, Carl because of the other man's weight, and the hunter as a result of the wounds inflicted by earlier whipping, and several limbs incapacitated due to electric pulses still persistently lingering in his body.
Then a deafening shriek echoed, accompanied by swooping talons reaching to sever the hunter's neck.
He fell… But the peace had not come. Not yet. Then he knew he would remain here until his purpose was fulfilled.
Carl was momentarily shaken by the blood dripping onto his shoulder. But they'd reached the gorge… He can't die yet. He thought. Not yet, Van Helsing! Oh, God, not yet!
He hastily ruffled through his brown duffel bag and took a flask containing a viscous, thick fluid from its place among his superbly crafted weaponry.
---oOo---
At first glance, it seemed harmless, but as they dived to strike at the small, weak friar, they quickly discovered that the little friar possessed firepower that would equal their Master's.
One flick of the wrist was all that was needed to send a wall of blinding white snow toward the three brides, forcing them to pull back and regroup.
The little friar took this moment of hesitation and used it to flee; taking Van's grapple and shot it toward a tree on the opposite end of the chasm, quickly securing it and, with Van's added weight, leaped from the ledge and hung on for dear life as the metal pulley smoothly slid on the wire and carried them across the dark chasm.
When the brides recovered from their temporary blindness, their prey was gone.
---oOo---
Carl and Van stumbled through the ominous paths through the white forests, with Van continually bleeding a tantalizing trail in their wake. The friar bit his lip at the sight of the contrast of red and white.
Carl quickly kneeled and leaned Van's broken form onto a sturdy tree trunk, emitting a pained groan from the other man. For a moment he hesitated, then cleansed the deep shoulder gash with clean white snow. Van gasped through clenched teeth, then gave a soft whimper as Carl's skilled hands worked to keep the glistening blood from gushing out.
As the weakened man shivered against Carl's touch, the friar began to realize that the Count's abuse had begun to take its toll on the hunter's body, and that the bitter cold had intensified the burden of pain that had been placed upon the man.
Carl quickly finished up and hoisted Van Helsing's arm across his shoulders, supporting his weight and with great difficulty, trod along the snow-covered ground through the desolate wood, thankful that the hunter's trail of blood had ceased.
Minutes later, as the friar's strength waned, he came upon a very welcome sight…