Of Missed Opportunities and Sink Drains

November 01, 13,012

She dreamed. Dreamed of simpler times. Of pale, winged demons and a knight in tarnished armor. Fields of flowers in bloom and fields of fire and corruption. Puppies eating rainbows and farting butterflies.

The horse was a magnificent place to rest. The gentle rocking and swaying, with her bare flesh kissed by the sun and pleasantly cool wind, it made for perfect napping conditions. Although, she couldn't say she relished the nightmares. But so deep into the Tarnished Knight dream, she couldn't say she remembered enough of anything to be bothered.

What did bother her?

The squeezes to her shoulder. She just wanted to sleep. For days, if possible. The disturbance was only serving to agitate her. It didn't help the Knight was attempting to speak with her. Something undoubtedly important. Pertinent to their situation.

But like a pane of glass to a rock, her little world shattered about her as she dove face-first into the sand. Not of her own volition, of course. And not that the horse had come to a sudden stop like the first time. No, as she pushed herself up on trembling arms and shook her head, she could hear the Hunter tell his companion that something was uncalled for.

If she could just get her heart to quiet and her shaking to cease. Clear her confusion and listen past the rush of blood in her ears. And good golly did she ache. How in the world did D just jump up after being stabbed in the heart?

"Well, at least she's up now," the creature huffed. "Your way wasn't getting us anywhere."

'Ah. Hand must've shoved me off.' It was the only logical thing, considering the circumstances. Krista stretched a hand up and braced herself against the horse. Breaths puffed past her lips as she struggled up. Had she been this weak before?

By the time she was standing, she considered it a small miracle she didn't immediately collapse. "Well… What's up?" she panted, idly brushing the sand from her skin.

"Figured you might want new clothes to replace the ones you lost," murmured D. His head tipped to one side, and he watched as she slowly looked in that direction. They were on the outskirts of another desert town, unsurprisingly walled off.

It took her a moment to respond, nodding gradually in agreement with his assumption. "Yeah… I would."

While her back was covered in bandages, she couldn't say she felt comfortable traipsing around half-naked. Pants looking like part of them got caught in a blender. And her boot. And the stitches. And more bandages.

She could probably be mistaken for a mummy at this point. Were mummies a thing? She understood they were a thing in the sense of people being mummified, but… If she had the energy, she might have started shaking him and asking if there were any more not-dead dead things she needed to know about.

Instead, she shook her head and started through the open gate. Walking was not any easier. She was sure that if she ever had the misfortune of swimming through molasses, this is what it would feel like. Gooier, but like each limb was weighted down.

"Let it be known… that I sincerely hope… I never feel like this, again," the girl grumbled.

The Hunter observed her unsteady walk to the shop she desired, taking a moment to tether the horse at a trough as she shouted about the injustice that was the shop's name. 'Winter and Summer Attire' but none for Spring and Autumn. Part of him considered her possible need for a blood transfusion. Another part felt that, in the end, she wouldn't need one. She did not realize it yet, with all the aching, but her wounds were not healing at a Human pace.

Such as her broken leg. For many, walking around on it without much issue not even a week from the time it was broken? A week simply was not long enough for normal Humans. Not with as bad as it was. Not without outside help and treatment aside from a splint.

However, he set aside the thought as he stepped into the garish apparel store. Not just the clothing was obtrusively bright. The walls. The rugs. Thank God he couldn't go blind from poor taste and design. He navigated the store until he located Krista in the men's section, her head firmly planted on a shelf of folded breeches.

She started groaning.

Obnoxiously. Loudly.

Sinking to the floor like a gloopy blob.

Hand snickered. "What's the matter, kid?"

With a soft sigh, she replied, "Nothing my size."

"Try the junior section?"

"Mmhmm."

"Women's?"

"Yup."

At this point, she was a goo pile. Garbage incarnate, in her own eyes. "I'm gonna have to wear a sack with a face hole!" she cried.

And he watched as she slunk across the floor towards the simple cotton dresses, fully expecting her to acquire a few splinters along the way. Or trip up some unsuspecting fool who dared cross her path. After all, she was trash on a mission.

She snatched up a long-sleeved dress a disgusting shade of green, along with a hooded cloak similar to her last. By the time she was at the counter, her glower could have killed. The woman manning the register was lucky it didn't. To be fair, Krista was trying (and failing horrendously) to smile appreciatively as she paid for the items.

Once outside, however, she merely scowled and fought with the article. "I know you're probably wondering what my issue is with dresses!" she growled, voice muffled by the ugly dress as she wormed about inside it. "And I couldn't tell you! I just hate them! Impractical drapes! Makin' life hard!"

Her head finally burst from the top, crimson hair a wild mane. Eyes wide and angry. Almost daring anyone to utter a single word. And she slapped and jerked around the fabric, attempting to straighten the tucked and lumpy skirt. "There!"

The hunter watched her snap about on her heel. Should he tell her that the dress was still wadded up in the back?

"I wouldn't," Hand murmured.

He did.

The ensuing screeches of fury were worth it. Even if most of the town came out with guns at the ready.

The sun seemed to race for the horizon at breakneck speeds, their travel broken only by short breaks for the horse and one intense pee break for the girl. Intense only because of how abrupt her demand to stop was. Then her fight with the folds of the dress. Her pants. Her armor. And panicked pleadings that he not look at her pitiful hiding spot a hundred yards away as she flailed about behind a bush that more closely resembled a mass of dead sticks.

The shredded breeches found a new home in a saddlebag.

But as she clambered into the saddle, muttering about feeling like a fluffed poodle, she settled down enough to ask, "How long do you think it will take to reach the Southern Continent?"

"Depends."

"I know it depends. That's why I said 'think'!" she exclaimed, turning with a pout.

The endearing look was wholly ignored. "It depends upon the horse's need for rest. Your needs. Nature. Without pushing the horse to exhaustion, I'd estimate at least 5 months."

"…The world ain't gonna end before that, is it?"

"Unlikely."

Her eyes suddenly went wide, and she slapped at the air around his thigh. "What if we get lost and it takes us years to get there?!"

"Not everyone is as directionally challenged as you."

Lips parted and snapped shut just as quickly as she searched for words. She had nothing to say to that. It was true. But she did have to wonder what was with all the teasing. "It should be a crime to act so stoic and say some of the shit you do," she finally grumbled. "But you sound really logical and smart anytime you talk. You mind me asking how old you are, D?"

"Why?"

"I don't know. Thinking about it now… you only look a few years older than me. But…" She shoved her hands out before her, roughly outlining his shape. Then she acted like she was going to squish it, hands never quite meeting with each attempt. "You don't feel like that. That make sense?"

"Well, kid," Hand started. "Him being a Dhampir, he gets a lot of the perks that comes with the territory. He gets some of the negatives, too. But most Nobles don't age. If they do, it is so slow that it takes many millennia for them to 'grow old'."

Her head snapped back, eyes alight with awe and curiosity. A wide smile curled her lips. "So, you are old? Like, hundreds of years?!" At the slight quirk of his brow, she sputtered and gasped. "Thousands?!"

"Quite," the Hunter replied.

"Wow! You're an old fart!"

Rude.

"Sorry, that was rude."

It was.

"But, it's true."

Rude, again, girl.

She laughed, eyes a beautiful mix of their typical acidic green and the tired grey he'd come to associate with poor health. They twinkled with mischief as she gazed back at him. Once she felt a bit better, she knew of a sure way to get a rise out of him. Or, as much of one as you might expect of the stoic Hunter.

The setting sun, as entrancing as it was with its wild mix of golds and reds and violets, was not enough to deter the sudden wave of drowsiness. Against her will, her head tipped forward.

The world faded to black.

"Explain why the Hongares almost killed the girl," a soft voice demanded. It was the type of tone that was deceptively sweet. The listener found himself shuddering.

"To be fair, they wouldn't have-"

"And yet, if not for that accursed Dhampir, she would be dead!" the woman bellowed.

There was a leaden silence in the room. "The one that attacked her was a pup. It didn't know. It was hungry and she was there. Besides, by the time the thralls were on her trail, they received word that the Hunter was contracted out and already had her."

The light patter of bare feet. When she spoke, her voice was deadly. "So, you mean to tell me… The thralls were tracking her before the half-breed ever stepped into the picture, but still could not get to her before him?"

"The towns would chase her off before they could get to her."

She scoffed. "Sounds like someone might be working against us. Well, the night wasn't a complete failure. That piece of trash they called Riedikke spilled his guts. She'll come right to us. That just means more time to prepare.

"While we wait, however, I want you to find someone to dispatch the mongrels. I don't want them causing any problems here."

It had been two days since they left Puregon. Two days! And she'd swear it'd only been twenty. Their little stop for clothes the prior day seemed so far away. Krista stretched and snapped and popped, struggling to work loose the kinks in her back. While their trip thus far had been interrupted by intermittent breaks for the horse, she hadn't had time to really do so.

But then, it's hard finding time to stretch when you are sleeping for the majority of the traveling. If anything exciting happened, she'd been oblivious to it. She barely recalled D pushing water at her and tending to her bandages. And the few times she had awoken of her own accord had been for barely a few minutes.

And here she was, about to sleep some more. While she knew she'd lost a fair bit of blood, she couldn't imagine that it was entire the cause of her exhaustion. Perhaps it was. Either way, she crumpled to the ground, cradling her head in her arms.

"D? Are we staying here for the night?"

"We are," came his murmured reply. "Still tired?"

"Mmhmm." Maybe she could sleep it out not on the horse? Stretched out and almost at 'perfect comfy' levels. "Am I gonna die?"

"Someday."

"But probably not today?" Her eyes were closed, mind beginning to drift. She could still hear him unsaddling the horse, but it was such a soft noise. Calming. She almost wished he talked more.

"Why?" The Hunter seated himself not far from the girl, propped against the saddle and watching as she jerked at his soft enquiry. She must have been dozing. Part of him wondered if she even realized she'd said anything.

"Why?"

She didn't.

"Oh… I said that out loud, huh."

Slowly, she twisted to face him, eyes lidded and glazed. "You just have… a really nice voice. I bet you'd… sing good, too." Her eyes fell closed. "Like a… fudgin'… turtle…"

She was asleep.

The Hunter stared at her a moment, almost at a loss for words. However, his hand shook with barely contained laughter. "You'd sound like a fudgin' turtle!" The countenanced carbuncle continued to chortle and wheeze. D wasn't so sure it was that humorous. "Oh God! I might die!"

"One could hope."

The quiet quip only served to pull more gasping laughs from the creature.

November 03, 13,012

Warmth.

Sweet Mother of all that is good, she'd officially reached perfect comfy. Once again, it might take an act of war to rouse her. Truly, she didn't think that any bed had ever made her feel so comfortable in her life.

Despite her half-lucid state, however, the soft thump beneath her hand did not go unnoticed.

How queer. She couldn't recall the earth whumping before.

Ba-bum

Something was definitely whumping about. She wished she could play it off as sleep deprivation. With all the sleep she'd gotten over the past couple of days, however, it would have been a blatant lie. She supposed, as another beat made her fingers tremble, that this was her 'act of war'. But if she had to guess, it sounded much like a heartbeat.

A very slow one.

Her eyelids fluttered, vision blurred by sleep.

Wait… were her eyes open?

She would swear they were, but she could not see. Jabbed herself in the eye attempting to even catch a glimpse of her hand.

"Smooth move, kid."

She screeched with fright.

Or she would have if not for the hand clamped down over her mouth.

Hand.

But if he was close enough to clasp himself over her face in this manner, curled around the back of her head, that could only mean…

Her internal panicked screeching intensified.

However, through it all, that voice leaked through. 'It'd be pretty funny if it turned out you tried to make a move on him.'

What did that even mean?

The voice sighed, clearly dejected by her lack of understanding. 'Never mind. Should've guess you wouldn't've known what I'm talkin' about.'

It didn't matter. All that did matter was her current pillow. The man whose heartbeat was too soft and slow to be normal. And yet, despite the slight chill he possessed, he currently served as her personal space heater.

But maybe, just maybe, if she could inch herself out of his hold…

She shifted, preparing to rise as Hand released her face. Fingers digging into the hard sand beneath her. She held her breath.

"I'm not asleep."

Cheeks aflame, Krista flailed. "Noooooooooooo!" she wailed. "You are! Sleep!" Slender hands pushed off his chest no less than three times, as if she were attempting to convince him he should be resting. After all, she'd been nothing but quiet.

There was no reason for him to be awake!

She skittered back in the dark, promptly tripping over… something. If only she could see!

As she spewed sand from her mouth, the Hunter illuminated the area with his lantern. She almost wished he hadn't. It was so bright! But, now that she could see, she could clearly see there was… nothing there.

"You mean to tell me I tripped over nothing?" she hissed.

Indeed. That little divot in the sand did seem to mock her. Not that it was alive.

"So!" the girl suddenly exclaimed. Her lips curled upward in a cringe-worthy smile, face burning with embarrassment. "Why was I attached to you like a little… little… thingy?"

D's reply was succinct. "You moved in your sleep."

'So, you did try to make a move on him!'

Cackling laughter bounced about the walls of her brain. She couldn't say she found it amusing. Only mortifying. "Wow. I am so sorry."

He watched as she pulled her hood up, ducking her face down to hide as she shrank into the fabric. As though the cloak could hide and disperse her shame. But one lone finger pointed accusingly at him from within the folds.

"To be fair, though, you do make a great pillow and heater."

The girl must not have much of a brain-to-mouth filter. Not that it bothered him. He merely set about rousing the horse, tending to it in a fashion he'd not had many chances to. Brushing what hair the creature possessed. Ensuring all the parts were functioning properly. And of course, he provided sustenance.

Krista twisted to her feet and moaned contently as D finished. Embarrassment forgotten, she felt fit as a fiddle. Prepared to run laps! Eat a whole horse!

The horse snorted, as if aware of her thoughts.

Perhaps not.

But as D kneeled and packed the gear and grooming tools, she rooted around in the bags for her crackers and remaining apple. Aside from a browning soft spot, the apple was still crisp and tart. The crackers a perfect salty. Although, one might question how she managed to taste anything with how fast she was devouring the food. Faster than the first night D witnessed her eat.

Halfway through, he watched her shudder and toss the remaining bit at the horse, slowly closing the tin of crackers. If he were honest, she looked ready to blow. And while vomit didn't bother him, he could say he did not want to be the one to clean it off the steed munching on the remaining fruit. He doubted the creature would have appreciated it, as well. Especially not when the horse seemed so proud of his glossy mane and gleaming metal plates.

Just as quickly as it'd come, it was gone. Lips curled in a sheepish smile. "I feel better now."

"You sure about that, kid?" prodded Hand.

"Yup!" Her hand flapped in a hurried, dismissive manner. "Totally was not about to puke all over the horse!"

The horse snapped its head up with a startled whinny, looking – dare he say – disgustedly at her.

She stared back. "What?!"

D watched as the magnificent creature stood and trotted out of her range, eyeing her the entire time. But unperturbed, she came to him next, eyes alight with mirth. Those unnaturally vivid green eyes, glimmering in the light of the lantern.

At least he knew she was feeling better.

"Have you eaten?"

Had he?

"No."

The morning before their arrival in Puregon, he'd considered his options as he washed up in the waters by their 'camp'. Ultimately, he'd felt no need to.

"You should."

The Hunter could agree with that. But he watched as she inched closer, body quivering with energy. If he had to guess, she was up to no good. Her slender fingers curled, thumbs rubbing against the crooked index fingers. Much like she was preparing to snatch something up.

"You're not gonna eat, are you?"

At his soft no, she lurched off towards one side, appearing to head for the horse sitting just behind him. Instead, she tottered about before leaping over his head. Honestly, he might have been impressed with her maneuver if not for two things.

One: she took his hat.

Two: her attempt at a graceful landing was pathetic, at best. Although, it probably did not help that the Hunter had driven the heel of his palm into her left shin as she went, knocking her off balance and off course.

Undeterred and with a triumphant shout, she snapped her arms up, prize clutched by trembling digits as she wormed her way to her feet. A quick glance back told her the man was rising, body turned to pursue her and brow furrowed.

Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have noticed. It was such a slight thing. But now, she squealed with delight and took off like a bolt. This look was nothing like the one she'd received after jabbing him. And she doubted that she'd even view that look in the same light… had she known him at the time.

While she doubted it would help, she started zipping from side to side, a sweeping zig-zag pattern through the sands. Pushing her legs to their limit. Anything to keep ahead of him. She was sure she was failing, struggling and gasping for breath.

Her giggling was not helping.

A voice, soft and lilted, cut through the laughs. 'Jump.'

She did, watching a figure cloaked in black soar beneath her. With an acrobatic tumble, he leapt to his feet and pivoted. Too late did she realize what happened. The cunning Hunter used her momentum against her, and she could do nothing to stop herself from stumbling into his hold.

No, she didn't even have a chance to stumble across the ground. She didn't even finish falling. Just slammed into him mid-descent.

"Damn!" she panted, slapping his beloved hat onto his head. "That was fun! I know you could've caught me sooner! Thanks for that."

He might have let her carry on a bit longer, too.

A mournful howl cut through the night air.

Another.

And another.

He might have, if not for that.

"You didn't catch me just for shits and giggles, did you?" Krista whispered, voice trembling. But she didn't need a response. She could see it in his eyes. And if not there, watching his hand grip the hilt of his sword was answer enough.

Dark eyes peered through the heavy darkness. This man was not hindered by the lack of light like the girl in his arms. He, seeing as though it were day, faultlessly tracked the three wolfesque creatures tearing across the sands. Spreading out their formation as they prepared to flank the two travelers. Or go after the horse.

Heaven forbid a bit of metal keep them from a meal.

However, it was a tad strange for shifters to be this far removed from civilization. Perhaps they'd meant it that way. As they circled, however, he couldn't find it in himself to do more than pity them. As it stood, they were a danger to the girl. Aggressive despite the increasingly choking aura surrounding the man in black.

He would release them from this existence.

"Hold on and don't move," he ordered.

While having her attached to him might hinder his movement speed, he was optimistic. And honestly, she was so very light. If she did slow him down, it wouldn't be from weight. Merely the bulk of her as a whole. And past that, she was so slight of frame.

He pressed his left hand against the small of her back as she complied to his demand. Practically squishing her as she wrapped arms and legs alike about his torso. If she was uncomfortable, at least she was understanding that this was not the time to complain.

There was a moment of calm quiet.

The nearest creature lunged, snarling and chomping at air as the Hunter danced across the sands. Quick to evade the one at his back with another graceful twist of his body and fancy footwork. He leapt, sword lashing out with inhuman precision.

He would take nothing but the finest cut of meat from the finest specimen.

Alright.

The meat from these creatures would be stringy, at best. They appeared to be malnourished, hides stretched across warped bones and ribs one firm elbow jab away from bursting through the skin. And as two desperately chewed upon the flesh he carved from one, he knew they must have attempted to remove themselves from society.

Remove temptation.

Shame that not all shifters could ignore or combat their instincts. Live in harmony with that beast residing just beneath all that was sane. Especially if they were a breed that suffered through cycles of some sort.

And guided by that beastly hunger, the hunk of flesh was devoured in a matter of seconds while the wounded shifter attempted to flee. He gasped and gurgled, frothing at the mouth as he choked on blood. Limbs trembling with each strained step.

"D, please put them out of their misery!" Krista whimpered.

But it was too late for the poor creature. The others descended upon him, jagged teeth easily stripping the meat from his bones. Screeches and gurgling wails filled the night air. The girl in his grasp desperately wished she weren't, wanting to cover her ears but settling with pressing her face firmly against D's sternum.

She could barely feel him shift, his hand pulling her just a bit more firmly against him before he was racing off to one side. Past his coat, she could see more of the creatures. Clawed paws tearing across the hard sand. Snarling maws open wide. And here she was, hiding like a babe in this man's embrace as he lunged and bisected the nearest one.

Unlike with the first one, the pack did not swarm their fallen comrade. The group of shifters circled the travelers, but D did not seem concerned (the same could not be said for Krista). He was not concerned when the circle surrounding them shrank. Not even when a few more joined the pack.

Instead, he stood tall and tightened his grip upon the hilt of his sword. Dark eyes narrowed. He did not wait for the creatures no less than six feet tall on all fours to charge. In a motion blurred by speed, he collided with the shifter at his front. Its ribs collapsed with a sickening crunch beneath his heel, but that wasn't enough. Its wailing was cut short as D wedged his blade between the twisted bones.

In the same instant, he slung himself and the girl over the dying beast, blade striking the next like the wrath of God. Perhaps, in another life, they could have had a friendlier meeting. A learning experience, even, for Krista. Because, admittedly, this was not the best way to introduce her to the existence of shifters. Not when he was flipping through the air with her clinging to him like a baby koala and the one beneath them was bellowing and screeching in anguish.

Their landing was not one of his most graceful ones, coat snagged by a set of canines aiming for his legs. But it served the same purpose. With a forceful toss of its head, the duo was slammed into the ground. And with a yelp of terror, Krista was dislodged from him.

She disappeared beneath the sand.

At least she was safe, for a moment.

He twisted and rolled, leg snapping up. The maw of the beast bearing down upon him went slack, shoved to one side, tongue lolling about. Without pause, he continued the motion, arm out and head cocked away from it, until he was on his knees.

Maybe keeping his hat throughout this entire ordeal should be considered a small miracle.

The sword in his hand buried itself in the creature's agape mouth. The others were intent on finding Krista, large paws tearing up the ground. And they did, excited and piercing yips filling the air as one pulled her small body from the sand by a slender leg.

By the time she was screaming obscenities and using the creature as a pin cushion, D was upon it, heel wedged against its bottom teeth and fingers curled around the snout. He kicked and wrenched. With a snap, the girl fell loose.

It seemed there was quite a bit of bone breaking going on this night. But it was effective for at least a few moments.

The beast beneath him collapsed as the remaining six turned their sights on him. Realization crept into their animalistic gaze, softening the eyes hardened by instincts. But for the majority, it did not last. All but one. And that one merely curled in upon itself and loosed a pitiful whine.

D did not bother to scoop up Krista like a babe, assured in their anger directed at him that she would be fine. He cast her a quick look, watching as she undressed and pressed a wad of her ugly dress against the gouges in her leg.

Well…

As fine as she could be.

Within the folds of his coat, he pulled five long, wooden needles.

"How considerate," he heard Krista begin to mutter. "Toothpicks to pick our flesh from between their teeth."

Silly girl. But her giggling did not distract him from his current objective. Each needle found its mark, burying themselves deep within the furred flesh. The creatures yowled and thrashed, attempting to paw loose the splinters from Hell. Before they could, D drove his sword through the first one and retreated before its blood could dirty him.

Despite her snide remarks, Krista was genuinely in awe of D's fighting prowess. His display of strength. Speed. "Amazing," she gasped, watching as the creatures fell beneath his blade. And for a moment, she wondered if she would ever be able to match him. Or maybe it was more of a Dhampir thing?

Either way, there she sat, pressing her ugly dress against her wound.

Making it – dare she say – uglier.

And Gods help her. She was liable to die from all this bleeding.

However, instead of focusing on her possible demise, she turned her attention to the Hunter executing acrobatic leaps and tumbles. Feats of agility she would surely fail at if she ever attempted them. And he was doing so well, striking with his blade as he flitted out of reach of another creature.

But she knew she was a liability. He was drawing attention away from her, putting himself more at risk.

She scoffed.

At risk.

How at risk could one be when one could take a stab to the heart and pop back up like a bloody daisy?

This fact did not stop her heart from lurching with fear as one of the creatures sank its razorlike teeth into the fearsome man's right shoulder and upper arm. And with his blood dripping from its maw, he twisted the opposite arm around and placed the beast in the most awkward chokehold she'd ever seen. But it was working.

Perhaps chokehold wasn't quite the term she should use. She could hear the collapse of bones and trachea alike.

'Well, he is technically chokin' them.'

"… I suppose he is…"

"Talkin' to yourself, again, kid?"

She squeaked and jerked, not expecting the Hunter to be literal inches from her wounded leg. "Eh…" Deflect! "You killed them all?"

"All but the one."

Dimming eyes snapped about, and she found that there really was only one left. The one that had yet to move from its place on the ground, still whimpering. "I really zoned out, huh. You think he's okay?"

The man did not have to look at the creature to know, using the time to lift her in his arms and head for the horse. "If anything, he is waiting for death."

"That is really sad."

"It's life."

"Wanting to die or just dying as a general?" she grumbled. "Because one shouldn't be part of life."

He was going to respond, but he could hear the sullen beast dragging itself to its paws. While no malicious intent clouded its aura, he was cautious. Krista seemed none the wiser as she began wiggling with excitement.

"I can't remember if I said it or not, but you're amazing!"

Seems the shock of the early morning was wearing off.

"I mean, if I tried to do half what you do, I would have been minced meat! But you were just… extraordinary!" the girl gushed. "The way you flipped and tumbled and dodged! With me attached to you like a big ol' baby! How do you do half the shit you do?!"

The beast was creeping close. They were nearly to the horse and lantern.

Krista's voice grew conspiratorial. "Could you rip limps off of people or creatures? Kill them before they even know they're dead?" Realization. "Wait, I kinda already saw you do that."

Closer, yet closer.

And there was the shift in the air the Hunter had been waiting for.

Teeth once more sank into the flesh of his right shoulder, but not before he'd drawn his blade with his left hand. Which left the girl to flop against the ground.

Perhaps, if she'd paid more attention and had known she'd be in the splash zone, she would have snapped her mouth closed before she ended up with a taste of the man's blood, his life essence splattering against her face. But how was she to know the beast would continue chewing upon his shoulder? Being impaled appeared to make no difference.

And as D wrestled the beast to the ground in an impressive show of strength, she found herself choking. Sputtering. Attempting to leave the situation as she struggled for breath, no longer paying her shredded, bleeding leg any mind. Had she swallowed some?

She clawed at her neck.

Why did her throat burn?!

That voice, somehow coming across whiskey-soaked now, but still soft and lilting, cut through her panic. 'Claw at your neck much harder and you'll be lookin' like that Riedikke guy.'

The voice wasn't wrong. She could feel her skin tearing beneath her nails, but…

Gods, it was so painful!

It laughed, hearty chuckles reverberating about her brain. Seeming so at ease, she had to wonder if it was at all affected by the pain. 'Oh, it hurts, alright! But I'm more concerned with how it tasted!'

Tasted?

Tasted.

It seemed to hit her then. A strong, heady flavor that coated her tongue and left her wanting more. If she could, she might liken it to a port wine. Without the bitter aftertaste that could come with alcoholic drinks.

'See?! Ain't that nice?'

It was, but she stubbornly refused to answer the voice. Teeth clenched tight against the burn making a return as she sagged and fell to her knees.

A fog settled about her mind.

She felt strange.

And she was being swallowed whole by this feeling. Delving into a place where blood boiled and the wind howled. Disheartening darkness and raspy noises that left her skin cold and crawling. And the whispers.

'The hell is wrong with me?'

A bloodied claw came into view, aimed to grasp her throat. It had to be one of the beasts.

She reached up and batted at the limb, scrambling away. But it did not relent, easily restraining her flailing hands as it perched upon her and dove for her neck. And she did the only thing possible at that moment.

The red-haired girl bit down.

Blood flooded her mouth and dripped down her chin. She expected something rank. Something… not this good.

The fog cleared just the tiniest bit.

D.

'Shit.'

But despite having the girl attached at the wrist, the Hunter was unperturbed. He merely observed as her clouded eyes cleared. She looked downright mortified, swallowing thickly as she pulled her teeth from his flesh. But he didn't miss the mildly rough passing of her tongue across the abused flesh.

"Sorry," Krista rasped, flinching. Her throat was raw and she had to wonder if she'd been the one howling. "Don't know why I licked you like it'd make up for me bitin' you. 's not creepy. Not at all."

The Hunter merely hummed in response, hauling her to her feet and guiding her across the remaining distance to the horse, fingers clasped over her throat. He was… concerned was as close as he could come to describing the feeling swirling in his gut.

The initial sputtering that came from accidentally ingesting his blood? That he had expected. Perhaps the clawing, as well.

The screeching? The obvious hallucinations she was experiencing? It was something he'd not entirely expected.

Even now, she was slumping over like soggy bread, dulled eyes fluttering shut as she was sucked into a world that left her gasping in terror. But it didn't start until she'd…

He drew short of the horse but in range of the lantern's light. Unclasped his bloodied hand from about her throat.

"Did she just soak up your blood?!"

Hand's timing was impeccable. And not without merit.

Indeed. All the crimson fluid dripping down his wrist to his hand never made it past her open wound. Even now, he could see the last bit seep into the torn flesh. Like a drain in a sink. Or rain to parched ground.

One question burned on the tip of his tongue.

"What are you?"

Eyes an unnaturally vibrant shade of cornflower blue opened. And she scoffed.

Not even the coming of dawn could take away from the disgust displayed in her gaze.