"Better get a move on, D," the symbiote croaked. "That storm's moving in fast."

Stopping his cyborg mount, D scanned the sloping hillside ahead of him. The rain had persisted for three days, finally letting up early this morning. He had made good time to the Miller's Crossing despite the inclement weather only to find that the bridge had been washed away the day before. A handful of men were there, salvaging what materials they could from the wreckage of the bridge. They had suggested he try heading North to the nearest ford, some thirty miles away.

D knew the lands to the North would yield him no prospects as he had slain the ruling Noble in that sector nearly a decade ago. As it was, he would have to back track South again to reach his destination once he crossed the swollen river.

The road he traveled now had become treacherous, muddy and rutted as it wound up through the hills running parallel to the river. Several areas had already begun to crumble and collapse, sliding down into the raging waters of the river below. Despite this D had managed to keep his pace, deftly maneuvering his horse without incident. As the afternoon wore on a light sprinkling of rain started up, ushered by the looming black clouds rolling in from the East. Just as he began to descend the apex of the hills, he paused.

Above the roar of the rapids he heard a cry for help, hoarse and scattered by the wind.

D put his spurs to his mount, urging it forward once again. He rounded a heavily rutted bend and came upon a section of the road completely buried under a pile of mud, rocks and roots. He stopped a few yards away, studying the perilous path.

A filthy, mousey head popped up over the top of the mudslide, soon followed by a wildly waving arm.

"Here!" called the young man. "Please help!"

D dismounted, scaling the mound of mud on foot effortlessly and crossing to the far side of the road. There he saw a wooden wagon, its rear wheels hanging precariously over the edge of the road. The young man was holding the front of the cart, his tenuous grip the only thing keeping it from sliding down into the frothing, swollen river some thirty feet below. He was covered in mud from head to foot.

"Damn horse got spooked and ran off," he grunted. "Broke its harness and nearly threw us and the cart into the river when the mud came down. Lend me a hand, won't you?"

D stepped down next to him and placed one hand underneath the driver's bench. "Stand back," he said. The boy released the cart a moment later, stumbling backwards as the Hunter wrenched it back onto the road in one motion.

He stood there for a moment, gawking at the man in black. "That was incredible, thank you!"

"Where is your horse?" D asked.

The boy motioned down the road behind him. "The stupid beast ran that way. But my Pa already went after her. I'm just grateful that you came along when you did. I don't know how much longer I could have held on!"

Holding up one hand, the boy leaned into the bed of the cart and retrieved a fist sized sack. Brushing off some lingering debris he offered it to the Hunter. "Here, take this. It ain't much, just a bag of corn. We were just coming back from-"

Just then an equally muddy man astride a dappled gray horse appeared ahead of them on the road, hunched over in the saddle with weariness. On seeing him the boy beamed, hollering and waving. The man's shoulders straightened and he spotted the pair, offering a small wave in return. He soon joined them and dismounted.

"Glad to see you're okay," the older man said, clapping his son on the shoulder. "Had to chase Winnie damn near halfway to Ransylva." He looked up at the Hunter, studying the pale face beneath the wide brimmed hat, half-covered by a faded striped scarf. His brow furrowed, his tired smile tightening into a grimace. "You helped my boy?" The man moved to place a hand on his son's shoulder, his eyes locked on D.

"That's right."

The boy hefted the sack in his hand, saying, "I was going to give him this Pa. Unless you-"

"That won't be necessary," D said. "How far is it to the ford from here?"

"About another ten miles," replied the man. "But there's a cargo ferry just down the hill if you're looking to cross sooner."

"Thank you." With that, D climbed back over the debris and mounted his horse. With only a few feet for a running start he leapt the obstruction in one single bound, landing beside the men and their cart before taking off down the hill.

"Wow!" the boy called after him, incredulous.

His father frowned. "Damn dhampir," he muttered to himself, shivering. He turned and grabbed two shovels out of the wagon, pushing one into his son's hands. "Here. Let's clear the road. That storm's going to break any minute."

As if to punctuate his point a low roll of thunder pealed in the distance.

D pressed on down the hill as fast as the road conditions would allow. The path began to level out as he went, bending to slope towards the river. About half a mile down the embankment he saw a crowd of people bustling around on a weatherbeaten dock, loading wagons and cargo onto a ferry platform. He slowed his descent, pulling off the road towards the shoreline.

Several people turned to look as he approached, studying his black raiment and curved longsword with suspicion. A discontented murmur arose and a few people began to point and back away. Of course, he wasn't surprised. The terror of the Nobility was still fresh in this sector of the Frontier with the ruling despot only so recently exterminated.

The nervous hum of their whispering and stares culminated when two large, well muscled men stepped forward from the crowd, blocking D's path. They were identical in appearance, both sporting close cropped blond hair and hard green eyes. They had on the same work clothes: thick leather gloves, knee high rubber boots and slick, hooded black coats.

And they both had laser rifles resting against their right shoulders.

"What business have you got here, dhampir?" one of the men asked, placing his index finger on the trigger of his rifle.

"I seek passage on the ferry."

"Uh huh," said the other man. "And what is it you're going to be doing in our town?"

"I am a Hunter, passing through on my way to Eastwick."

"Hm," the first man spat, frowning. "I think you'll find that's about twenty miles back the way you came."

D remained silent.

The sky began to darken, black clouds nearly blotting out the sun as they shifted restlessly overhead. A moment later a flash of lightning split the sky immediately followed by a deep, reverberating boom of thunder. Within ten seconds rain began to pour down, drenching the valley.

Both men shared a look as the rain streamed down their faces, scowling. Simultaneously, they leveled their rifles on the Hunter.

"Get lost," said the second man. "We don't want your kind here." A ready cry of vehement agreement rang out from the gathered onlookers.

D tugged on his reins and started to turn his mount away, silently resigning himself to more wearing travel in the rain. If he hurried, he would be lucky to reach the next ford before the storm washed out the road entirely.

"Hold it," called a voice from the ferry, half swallowed by the sound of the rain and rushing river.

D stopped, the familiar tone holding him in place. His eyes raced to a cloaked figure stepping down from the rider's seat of a bull wagon. She made her way through the crowd, stopping just a few feet shy of his horse's left flank.

"I can vouch for him," she announced, lowering her hood. Raven hair spilled over her shoulders.

The blond men lowered their guns, glowering at her. "You know this dhampir, Doris?"

"That I do." She smiled up at him, those honey colored eyes lighting warmly. "Good to see you, D."