He'd been alone for so long, living in fear of what the beast would do when it took over. Every time he woke up covered in blood was a reminder that he needed to get further away from others. He had become accustomed to the dull ache of loneliness.
Years of research had finally pointed him in the right direction – a distant cousin, blood of his blood, but spared of the curse. She was what he needed. Her blood held the key to his salvation and he could feel it call to him from half a world away.
So, he answered.
Alone in the woods, he expected to finally get some peace, before he could complete the cure.
He was sorely mistaken.
Even here, there was blood - under his fingernails, on his skin, in the fresh morning snow.
He longed for the freedom Marie's blood promised, but the beast hungered. It was going to trap him like this for ever and it knew - he was certain of it – that the answer was also in her blood. Her blood, spilled fresh on the evening snow, while her flesh sated its hunger.
The beast called to her.
He couldn't let it have her.