Well, here it is. Part 4. lovely. I've come to realize thet the wolves in Spain may be quite different from the ones I remember in Germany. I remember them rather magestically, and big. But I'm small, so that may make up the difference, I suppose. I hope I haven't erred.

Faithful, part four.

Bitores' eyes rounded with wonder. 'You're certain?' he asked breathlessly, 'Sera, old man, you're absolutely certain?'

Sera looked grave, 'Yes, Bitores. I… I've known for a while, I've just never… It's very dangerous.' He rubbed his face with a sigh, 'I'm sorry I haven't told you, until now. It's just… I can't remember when we've needed money this much.'

Mendez sat back in his chair, rubbing his bald head in shock. His mind was racing, and he felt dazed. 'Silver, Sera… sliver could save our village.'

Sera looked uncomfortable. 'I've seen small pieces of it scattered in the sands of the cliffs, at the base of the castle. I wouldn't touch it to save my soul. But if you're feeling brave…'

'I have to, Sera. I can't let our people starve…' Bitores paused, considering. 'Thank you, old man. You may have saved us. But the question is-- how do we get to it, with out alerting Salazar?'

Sera shrugged. 'I'd say he's pretty blind, not to see the wealth on his own land. But I've told you , I'll have nothing to do with this. I'll show you where, but that's as far as I go.'

Bitores raised an eyebrow, 'scared, Sera? You were never one to be afraid of what the Salazars did.'

The old man shook his head, 'Not the Salazars, Amigo. Arrogant aristocrats. They don't even know what evil…' he shut his eyes, grasping the crucifix that hung on a chain around his neck, 'what evil surrounds them. Saturates them. Festers their blood, and makes them strange in flesh, strange in mind. No,' he kissed the cross, 'I'll not touch any part of that silver.'

Bitores frowned, 'Old man, I know that taking this money is wrong, a sin. But I know of no worse hell than letting our people starve, while a vampire lord who cares nothing for them drains away their very life blood. If it is between letting people live, and displeasing God…' he bared his teeth, 'I will take my chances with demons!'

Sera smiled. His old face seemed angelic, framed with white hair and a beard of snow, and his wrinkles seemed to show not age, but perfect wisdom that spanned ages. 'Bitores, my friend, I believe that God would forgive you. That is why I believe that only you can take this silver-- you alone are strong enough, pure enough.' he set a hand on his shoulder, 'Come with me-- I will show you, and you alone.'

He was panting as he reached the top of the cliff, perspiration beading on his forehead and clinging to his dark lashes before falling from his face to the forest floor, several stories below. His filthy fingers scrambled for a hold and found a thin, brown root, and he pulled himself up, growling with effort. Slowly, he slung his leg over the top of the crag, and hoisted himself onto the flat, stone platform.

Ramon lay on his chest for a few minutes, panting into the patchy moss the decorated the stone, now and again, and at last he got to his knees, looking out over the forest valley that stretched below him.

He was above the tree line, now. Somewhere toward the outer towers, he presumed. The castle spanned the lines of the seaside cliffs like a white, blotchy scar, in the distance. He'd never been here, before-- it was so new to him that a thrill of discovery tingled even now, in his exhausted body.

His hat had blown off midway up the cliff, and had disappeared into the woods to be forgotten. Even now his bags brushed about his burning face in the icy wind that made him shiver as it touched the sweat on his body. He'd never been happier. Here, there was no screaming. No brooding servants. No curse that plagued his mind. Here, he was not Lord Salazar, a small, bitter, mad man in the confines of his stone prison. He was everything he wanted to be. And he was limited only by how far he could drag his body.

Sadly, he had not once seen a glimpse of a wolf. Suddenly he realized-- he was being far too loud. Any animal within miles could hear him lumbering along…

Ramon wiped his lips with his forearm, and sat back, pulling off his shoes and stockings. He removed his coat, his shirt clinging to his arms and chest as he piled his discarded articles into the jacket. Carefully he wadded the coat into a small bundle, tying the sleeves around it securely. Smiling with satisfaction, he slung it across his shoulder, standing on his now bare feet and jumping nimbly from one stone to next, to reach the timberline.

He raced across the grass to the trees, jumping onto a fallen log and darting down it to jump again, landing on all fours on another stone.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. He had always known he was quick, but just how quick, he had never had a mind to figure out.

Ramon stowed his bundle at the base of a tree, uncaring of weather or not he found it again. Bouncing to his feet, he sped off at full speed. He scrambled under and over obstacles, his shirt tearing and his skin becoming marred with scratches now and again. His movements were almost unnaturally fast, and nearly silent. Deeper into the woods he moved like a wild forest creature, and he broke into his second wind, his legs burning.

He met a crumbling stone and leapt onto it, kicking his way up its odd angles to launch himself over the top.

Eyes suddenly met his own. 'Hello, little one,' someone said with a grin.

Ramon let out a cry and lost his footing, tumbling off the wall to land on his back, his head colliding with a piece of stonework to send him reeling. His senses surged with brain-splitting pain, the world grew black, and he lost consciousness.

END FAITHFUL, PART FOUR.