After finally eating something - an activity that seemed most important at the time - and gaining a bit of strength back, I focused my attention on taking care of my wounds. The four puncture wounds in my stomach had mostly dried, which surprised me tremendously. It had been flowing before, like a cascade of sticky red liquid. Now there was already a protective crust forming on the wounds that colored red and a translucent yellow on the sides. The wounds still strained when I moved, making me hiss, but at least it was healing quickly. Some might say unnaturally so, but I was not complaining right about now. My shirt was still wet from all the blood, and the fabric had turned a darker green. Yet another part of my clothes that was soaked.

Once the adrenaline wore off, the shivering started. If I wasn't careful, hypothermia would get me sooner than any human bounty hunter or wild animal.

Staying still to not break the scabs, I focused my attention on my worst injury - the one that was still seeping blood like a broken pipe. The warm line of liquid trailed from my bicep down to my fingers. I had already given up on cleaning the blood from my fingers. The arrow had cut through the muscle's belly, scratched my humerus at worst. The pain made it almost impossible to move my right arm. With difficulty, I tried to cut the underside of my shirt, leaving the lower part of my stomach bare. With the piece of fabric and the awkward fumbling of both my teeth and left hand, I tried to constrict the blood flow to my right upper arm.

With cold sweat forming on my palms, I took hold of my dagger - which had been dangling above the flames. The previously iron blade glowed a faint red and black. The heat was palpable. With a wooden stick between my teeth, which wasn't at all clean, I let the red-hot blade burn its way through my flesh. Tears streamed down my face, my teeth bit through the half rotten piece of wood and black spots covered my sight. With trembling breaths, I dropped the knife next to me. The broken splinters fell from my mouth. Pearls of sweat ran down along my pressed together face. I was in pain.

An hour passed, with me just slightly dying a bit more each minute. First it was the fiery pain that was very slightly dimmed over time. The sharp pain strikes turned to a constant dull ache - I hadn't really decided yet which I preferred. Neither was pleasant though. After a while, it was the cold which started biting my toes and fingers. In the end, it was everything, and nothing. The constant state of unease became too tiring, and sleep caught up with me. Or unconsciousness.

Another hour had passed, possibly even more. My eyes opened lazily. The first thing I noticed was my dry clothes. My teeth were still a pair of castagnettes, but at least the heat from the campfire was licking one side of my skin. My eyes remained on the darkening red sky, while my attention scanned the surroundings - analyzing every sound and smell. The forest was too quiet for my liking.

Eventually, I pushed myself up to stand. Slowly and carefully I collected my few items - my knives went back into their holsters, my bow and arrow got stripped on my back and my shoes returned to their rightful place. With a sigh, I wiggled my toes into the preheated leather. I couldn't stay here during the night, more bounty hunters could be on their way. And traveling during the night was even more dangerous in these woods. The darkness was too engulfing, and the night animals had too much advantage, even for a skilled Vampire Hunter. So, with difficulty, lots of grunts and hateful remarks directed at everything that had caused this situation, I pushed myself to another two hours of traveling in the reddening twilight. The blood red sky felt very symbolic for my current state. I didn't like it.

Within the hour, I had managed to cover my tracks and move further east, to the spring of the small river. With warm comfy boots, I made my way through the woods. My clothes weren't so lucky, they had dried into a rigid and cold harness.

With heavy steps, I made my way through the forest, where I found more and more places of dying trees. The needles of the pine trees had turned yellow and the leaves of the deciduous trees were rotting on the branches itself. My whole life I had lived in these woods and never had I seen trees looking so unhealthy. It was as if they had caught an illness. One that was seamingly spreading across the Green Lands, perhaps even beyond that.

More of these events kept happening and it reminded me of the men in Holt talking about droughts and floods on the White River side. It made me think of reasons why the world seemed to react this way. Personally, I didn't fully believe in the Old Gods, but I knew many humans did. And everyone knew witches still existed. Rumors were that they had high priestesses communicating directly with Them. I wondered. Stories always had truths to them, mom used to say, but how much was true and how much was simply fiction?

And so, time passed by with my mind constantly wandering.

By night's fall, when shadows grabbed a hold of everything, I had traveled another three to four miles, gotten to know my surroundings and set up camp once I was certain multiple escape routes were present.

Temperature had fallen and I was clinging onto my Hunter's vest - the only piece of clothing that wasn't completely ruined. The leather wasn't nearly warm enough to keep my teeth from clattering, but I hadn't undercooled yet, so I was much less worried than the previous night. My shoes were standing by the fire and a rat was roasting above it.

The fish hadn't been enough to fill my empty stomach, but it had used its purpose in giving me the energy needed to keep on walking. Now, my body was yet again at the end of its limits.

The hooting of an owl nearby and the soft rustling of the wind made me relax. It didn't work nearly as well as it used to, but at least it was something. As long as the animals didn't feel threatened, I felt comfortable enough to let go of a bit of tension. So I closed my eyes once again, and drifted off to a slumber.

Dreams had never been a common thing. Once in a while, I used to daydream about what it was like to be human; have hobby's of my own choosing, enjoy futile things such as art and made-up stories, and experience human connection. But never did I suffer from an endless series of thoughts and images that were completely out of my control. Especially not in my sleep. That was until the ritual. Ever since, it was rare to have a night without nightmares. So when my dreamless slumber turned into a twisting darkness, I wasn't even surprised anymore.

First there was nothing, or at least nothing that I could see, I knew there was something watching me from the darkness. The prickling feeling of someone's eyes on me was all too known for me. It usually didn't last more than a second, as if that person wasn't interested enough to stay longer. This time wasn't any different.

Images appeared, blurred and censored. The torches of the ritual became clear rather quickly, and the feeling of uncomfortableness flowed easily through me. Grabbing a hold of me. It made me want to hold on to something. I grasped around me into an emptiness. And then, it was as if I was falling, deeper and deeper into a pit of memories that were constantly out of my reach. One image became clear, like daylight in a dark tunnel. Brown eyes, with a familiar red glow along its sides, looked straight at me. A softness shone in them. For a second, my body relaxed, as if the fear gripping my heart dissipated into thin air. My hand reached out, but the image disappeared at my touch, like an old parchment crumbling to dust. My breath hitched, my emotions made a 180 degree turn and almost choked me on loss and hatred.

Another image pushed itself on me, one I hadn't seen in any of my dreams before. A figure, too blurred to identify, formed. Blue eyes - so much like mine that it made me tremble - shimmered through the fog. My mind hurt, restrained by an unknown force, my breath hitched and my heart squeezed as if someone was holding it in its grip.

A cold hand grabbed my right upper arm, pulling me back from the endless pit of hidden memories. The pain was enough to wake me up. I shot up, but was immediately pushed back to the ground. I winced in reflex, almost let out a squeal, but muscled fingers covered both my mouth and nose, silencing me. The previous hand felt warmer now that I wasn't surrounded by the cold darkness of my dreams. My eyes turned big, my body tense and my hand reached for a hidden little black blade in my belt. I pressed it against my intruder's lower ribs.

Dark brown eyes, with a depth of wisdom and calmth, looked straight at me.

In the flickering of the dying campfire, a male's shadow hovered over me. His front pushed against my body, pinning me to the ground. His slow, controlled breath caressed my skin. He felt warm. His finger went to his lips, the universal sign of shushing someone, while his eyes remained on me.

"Keep your weapon close," he whispered in the most quiet voice. His low voice was comforting and I almost felt safe in his presence.

That was until I heard the howling of wolves nearby. In reflex, my hand gripped the leather handle of my small blade tighter. His eyebrows knitted together in warning. My hand relaxed and I pulled my blade away from his side. Instead I pressed it along my leg. The metal felt cool against my skin, and for the first time that night, the coolness felt comforting.

A low rumbling that made the earth vibrate from its intensity, caused my hairs to stand up straight. Everything in my body screamed to get the hell away from there. Whatever creature made that noise wasn't a wolf. Its sniffing got louder, and its gurgling breath seemed way too near to be pleasant.

The stranger on top of me tightened his hand on my mouth. His muscles flexed in preparation, mine followed his lead. Never had I gripped a weapon so tight in my life, and it wouldn't surprise me if my nails would leave marks behind on the leather handle.

Slow, heavy steps neared from my side. A familiar stench made my stomach twist. More unnatural sounds joined in and I already formed a disgusting picture of it. When it entered the ring of light provided by the smoldering campfire, the beast looked even worse than I imagined. Bright, glowing yellow eyes switched at high speed from one object to another, as if it was looking for something. Then there were its teeth, which were sharp and long and covered in a red and black goo. The low light gave it a monstrous sight. My body shivered. My still injured arm slowly searched my belt for any kind of weapon it could find, because my small blade would not suffice. Its body was human-like, trice the size of a regular male, with filthy and dry skin, covered in a rash. Or perhaps those were infected scars. Not that it mattered, it simply looked incredibly unhealthy. All across its body, small random areas of dense hair grew as if those single cells had just reached puberty. It looked nauseating.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood painfully straight. For once in my life, I was completely happy to have been raised by an oppressive military. Otherwise, my fear would've taken the lead, and I certainly wouldn't have been capable of staying as still as I was. Even though my fingers trembled, they remained pressed to my side. Inwardly I repeated the same sentence over and over again, like a mantra: "Don't be the prey, be the stone it ignores."

The beast moved in a slow, uneven gait away from us. A small wind blew through the air, making the coals flicker in the dark. For a second, everything stayed quiet, unnaturally so. Not even the gurgled breathing of the beast was heard. There was only the pumping of my own heart in my ear and the slow and controlled breathing of the muscular male lying on top of me. Then, the beast sniffed the air, its head turned sideways. Its gurgled breathing turned into a strange series of hiccups and coughs, which almost sounded like excitement. In less than a second, the beast turned towards us. Its yellow eyes fixated on our intertwined bodies.

In all honesty, I didn't know who pulled up who, but within the second, both me and the stranger were standing. My right hand held an ulna-sized dagger, drawn from my boot, and my left still held the small black blade, which had no function whatsoever against an enemy with such thick leather skin.

The creature ran in vampire speed towards us, its claw-like hand raised in the air, dripping blood from its previous victim. My pupils widened from the adrenaline jump starting my defense system. Just in time, I flounted myself to the side. Its hand hit the ground with an earthshaking force. My ear popped and all I could do was run away, out of its reach. Another hand swung my way, my head ducked. In a quick attempt, I turned on my heels and threw the black blade at the beast. The black iron glanced in the flickering fire while it stuck out of its unhealthy looking skin. It hadn't even noticed. The beast jumped, like a predator hungry for food, towards me. Its claws would've cut my face in half if it wasn't for the four wolves jumping out of the bushes.

In a perfectly synchronized dance, they attacked the monster. One wolf at each of the creature's arms, pulling it down to the ground and preventing it from slicing those weapons it had for hands. A smaller female wolf, the color of pine cones, clutched the creature's left leg between her ivories. She started pulling hard, with loud growls and animalistic snarls. The largest, pitch-black wolf snapped at the creature's neck. It seemed to have more resistance than anyone else, its head was flailing and equally deadly snaps came its way.

A crunch followed by a whimper, made me jump back into motion. The smallest, sand-colored wolf got pushed off. Like a heavy projectile, it didn't fly far, but the bone breaking sounds and the painful whimpers were clear as day. With difficulty I tried to ignore it, and ran towards my bow and arrow. It was my only weapon that would do anything against it.

More howls and whimpers filled the air and mixed with the loud gurgling and hissing of the beast.

With fidgeting hands that would have caused me a month of cleaning at home, simply because it was an emotion showing during a battle, I found a little black flask in the pocket of my jacket. My nerves would get me killed, the Hunters weren't wrong about that. Closing my eyes, I tried to breathe and push out my surroundings. I tried to imagine a flower field, beautiful and peaceful, with at its sides healthy green trees filled with the most colorful birds. When my fingers weren't a vibrating mess anymore, I quickly coated half my arrows with the poison. The mixture wouldn't be lethal, but it would give the wolves a better fighting chance.

Within seconds, I stood up, my bow strung to its full length and an arrow dripping in black liquid. My right arm burned, and for a second I doubted I would be able to make the shot. Then another wolf got thrown off and the beast started to push itself up again. The unnatural yellow eyes looked at me with a murderous look.

The arrow was flying through the air before I even noticed. My hand reached for another, and again, I let go. Arrow after arrow plunged in its chest. The creature howled, like a wolf, except lower and more unnatural. The blood in my body stopped running, my mouth dried up.

A realization made my stomach twist the wrong way. I felt bad for it. Its eyes were locked onto me, it didn't seem to notice the wolves pulling its flesh off its bone. It stumbled. It collapsed. It kept looking. My heart squeezed, my foot took a step towards it.

A strong, cold hand held me back, it turned me around. I wasn't looking into yellow eyes anymore, instead warm brown caring irises looked at me with confusion. Now that he had a respectable distance from me, I noticed his rustled blonde hair kissing his equally blond eyebrows. He had a young face, my age, perhaps a bit older. His jawline was as sharp as a wolf's and his skin was weirdly tanned. His appearance wasn't common in the Green Land woods, perhaps he had family on the White River shore. Because really, where would you find sun decent enough to get a nice color?

"Let's go," his voice was as soft as before, with the same urgency.

His arm gently guided me away from my hiding place, through one of my escape routes. He directed me through the woods. He ran too fast, I stumbled over every unevenness. My mind was too chaotic, too much had happened.

He pulled me up for the umptieth time. His arm draped around my middle.

"I need you to focus, Sky. It's not far anymore, please look out where you put your feet." His voice was soft and friendly, yet his words came over so serious and strong. It was very contradictory.

"Wait, how do you know my name?" I suddenly noticed. "Who are you?"

"Jason," he said, before he pulled me deeper into the woods.