((What do you think, did my writing get better? o.o))

Alfred sighed, staring at the plate clutched in his hands. He'd lost the Professor. He'd lost Sarah. Now the only chance he had for survival was to bend to the whim of the vampire that had tried to convert him the night before. The emotions coursing through his body were unable to be tamed. Should he feel anger, or hatred? Or perhaps he should feel regretful. Or maybe even sympathetic. Regardless, he definitely felt heart-broken.

He stood and moved to the bathroom, where he washed the plate and dressed quickly, wanting to be rid of the place forever. Leaving the castle behind would be like abandoning the entire past few nights, those horrible lapses of time where he had been used, misused, then tossed aside as if he meant nothing. He would go home, forget about everything that had happened, and live the normal life that his parents had wanted. He smiled wryly, remembering their warnings. They had always said nothing good would come of vampire hunting. Oh, how right they were.

When he was ready, he went back into the main room and nodded somberly to the vampire who was waiting on the bed, legs crossed. He stood and opened the door, peering into the hallway, then turned back to Alfred and beckoned him through the threshold. They moved quickly, but carefully, not wanting to be detected or heard as they passed through and made their way down to the court yard. Passing through the entrance gate caused him to shudder. He wasn't sure why, or what had caused it, but there was an unmistakeable feeling about him that he was leaving something precious behind.

It seemed to have snowed even more during the day, and the temperature seemed to have gotten even colder now that it was night time once more. His breath trailed before him as he walked through the fresh coating of white mush, and his feet kicked up puffs of the snow, seeing as it was so powdery and the air was so dry.

He noticed, quite jealously, that his vampire companion didn't seem to be bothered by any of this at all. And why would he be? Wasn't he undead, or something like that? The cold would have no reason to affect a creature like he. Now, Alfred, a lowly mortal—he was freezing, and felt as though every passing moment was torturous and full of agony. How much time had passed now? How much longer to go? He could barely see the village in the distance in the veil of darkness. It could be hours yet!

He had become wrapped up in his thoughts, and his body was beginning to give out, having become numb from being so meagerly covered. He stepped down into the snow, catching his foot on some ice, and began to fall, unable to stop himself, too tired to throw out his arms and prevent himself from crashing down into the cold, unforgiving snow.

Only the snow never came. Instead of falling into the icy grasp of mother Earth, Alfted found himself in the arms of his guide, who was staring down at him with a very concerned look on his face.

"You... were just... all the way... over there..." He could barely speak. His teeth were chattering, and there were trickles of tears leaking from his eyes, a result of the wind and the cold.

Herbert helped him up to his feet, remaining silent for the moment. "We are quick to act," he said at last, gently, "especially when those that we are about are in need of help." Alfred shivered, though for once it was only part from the cold. Herbert continued to stare at him, taking on a rather disapproving look, "You look ill. Do you need to rest? You should have said something."

Alfred smiled weakly. Truth be told, he hadn't even realized that he'd needed help at all. As previously noted, he was too wrapped up in his thoughts, and he hadn't noticed that his body was slowly going numb. But would Herbert believe that? Or would he think that he had been purposefully ignoring him (which, by the way, was quite plausible, had it been the night before)?

"It sort of... slipped my mind," he admitted sheepishly, kicking at the snow a little, as if blaming it for his mistake.

Herbert merely shook his head, then looked around for something, anything to sit on. There were some rocks in the distance that jutted out from a hill side; those would have to do. "Well, come on then. Let's have a rest." He held tightly Alfred's arm and dragged him over, rather willingly, so that he could be sat down. Herbert himself remained standing, merely leaning up against the formation, seemingly deep in thought.

Alfred drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, attempting to somehow preserve his warmth. "But what if there isn't enough time?" he wondered, looking toward the vampire.

"Enough time for what?" Herbert responded absently, casting a single glance toward the human.

"Well," Alfred hesitated. "To get back the castle. Will there be enough time... with breaks for me?"

Herbert seemed to find this very amusing, as he began to chuckle half-heartedly. "Have you forgotten what I am?" he flaunted. "I could make it back within the hour." Could he really? No. Not at all. But he wasn't about to let Alfred know that, not when the boy was worried about him (however shallow that worry ran mattered not).

"But don't worry about me," he went on, nearly rambling, and still staring out into the distance. "Worry about what you will do once we reach the village. Where will you go afterward? Do you know your way through the country without the aid of that bumbling Professor?"

Alfred shrugged a little, not quite willing to move more than that out of fear of losing what little warmth he had built up. "Not really," he admitted, "but I think I'll manage. The people are bound to know something."

"Oh yes, sure," Herbert mumbled. "That is, if they are willing to associate with you when you return." Upon receiving a rather panicked look from Alfred, he sighed and turned to him. "You are returning without the Professor and without Sarah. They are bound to be suspicious. They'll probably think that you have been bitten; be prepared for an assault."

"W—well then," Alfred muttered, shaking his head, "they'll see there's nothing wrong with me when waving garlic in my face doesn't work..."

"Alfred," Herbert grumbled, "garlic doesn't work on any vampire."

"Crosses then!" Alfred reasoned. "Those won't hurt me."

"Crosses don't effect us all," Herbert retorted. "And even then, they may be bypassed with a strong enough will. I had to get past the one that you made, even before that poor wretch Kokoul took it down."

"S—stop it, will you? You're making me nervous." And he was. Alfred was shaking now, completely unrelated to the cold.

Alfred glared at him. "Stop it! You're making me nervous."

"You should be," Herbert said, pushing off of the rock and offering a hand to Alfred to help him down. "These are dangerous parts, love; you must always be on guard."

Alfred smiled weakly. "I'll... do my best to remember that."

And then they set off once more, back onto the snow laden path, toward the village which grew closer and closer with each weary step.