Drip…drip…drip…

The rain hit the window as the heavens decided to cry on this Saturday night.

Creak…creak…sigh…

The old rocking chair rocked forward and back before the old man occupying sighed in annoyance.

Creak…rock-rock…

The old man stood from his rocking chair, making the chair rock on its own until it came to a stop.

Step…Step…Creak…Whoosh…

The old man walked to the window and opened it, the cold wind entering the room and hitting the old man’s face.

He sighed in annoyance once more before making his way through his small cot to the door. He grabbed his coat off the rack, and placed it around his small and frail body. He opened his door and stepped out, closing the door behind him. He took three steps down his porch and continued the way to the street. He pulled the coat’s hood over his head before walking down the abandoned street. The rain poured down heavily onto the man, turning him wet and cold. But he didn’t care. He was used to the cold feeling. He walked past many houses, all which of lights were on and the curtains were open.

But as he passed every house, the curtains closed. That is because the residence were afraid the old man might just come to them for support. But this old man knew no one would help him, no matter how politely he might ask or how desperate he was. He was alone in his own problems. No one to help him.    

The old man kept walking through the street, his usual sad face staring at the pavement. He kept walking for what felt like hours as he was drowning in his own thoughts. He suddenly stopped. He had walked straight into a tree. He looked around him to notice that the last house was about 10 metres from him. He turned back to the tree, more trees following behind this tree. A forest. The old man entered the forest, not caring of the inhabitants or if he may get lost, seeing as he has been in this forest many times before.  

His cold eyes examined the small detail of the forest as he passed through. The squirrels hiding in a hole tree bark, using it as cover from the cold rain. The birds sitting in their nests high up in the trees, keeping their eggs warm. The loose sticks, branches, leaves, and fruit fell to the ground from the heavy rain.

The old man made his way through the forest until he came to a stop. In this forest there was a waterfall which fell ten metres down. The old man usually came here and sat on top of the hill, looking down the waterfall from the side. It soothed him. But this time was different. There was already someone occupying his spot. At the tip of the hill stood a cloaked, soaked black figure. The figure had a small body though. The figure suddenly turned to the old man, his face hidden under the cloak and the darkness of night. The old man was confused. No one dared come into this forest…

“Who are you?” The old man asked with his frail and weak voice.

“I believe it is common courtesy to give your own before asking for another’s.” A young male voice answered back with a British accent. The old man was slightly confused as to why a young British boy would be in a forest located in Italy.

“Well then young man, I am known as Darius Trancy.” The old man answered with politeness in his voice. “Can I ask for your name?”

“Of course. I am known as Thomas Williams.” The old man nodded at him.

“Now mind telling me why such a noble British young man is here under the rain on a hill in Italy in the middle of the night?” The old man said with confusion clearly written in his mouthful of words. Thomas simply chuckled before answering.

“I am not a noble, mister Trancy. The reason why I am here is because I am on a hunting spree.” The old man frowned in confusion.

“A hunting spree? Whatever could you mean by that?”

“Well you see, mister Trancy, I am not normal. I am a werewolf, and I also know that you are a vampire.” The old man hesitated before answering the young lad.

“And how would you know such a thing?” Thomas brought his hand up to his mouth and chuckled like a polite, innocent little boy.

“My nose never lies.” The old man nodded in understanding. Werewolves could smell a rabbit from two kilometres away.

“You said you were on a hunting spree?” He nodded while smiling, but it quickly faded.  

“But my pack abandoned me. We hunted a man who stole something from us and we chased him here, but my pack abandoned me because I held them back.” He said sadly, converting his eye sight to the ground.

“So you have no place to stay?” The old man asked, wanting to help the abandoned cub. Thomas shook his head. The old man turned around and began walking but stopped when he realized he wasn’t being followed. He turned back to face Thomas.

“Well now, we can’t have that. Come along.” From under his cloak you could clearly see him smile, before he ran to the old man’s side.

“Thank you so much for helping me, mister Trancy. I honestly have no idea what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come along.” The old man smiled. It was his first smile in a long time. Thomas also realized this fact. “You don’t smile a lot, do you mister Trancy?” The old man’s smile faded.

“No…I don’t.” He answered, sternly.

“Why not?” The old man said nothing for a while before he finally answered.

“I’ve had a rough past, kid.” Thomas didn’t answered, instead he looked forward at all the cottages they passed. After a while, they reached the old man’s house. He opened the door and let Thomas enter before him. Thomas’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the living room. It wasn’t as noble as he was used to. It was plain and simple. Mostly considered of wood furniture.

“Let me get you some dry clothes.” The old man said, before walking to into his room.

He opened his closet where his entire life’s clothes were inside. He didn’t care for many clothes and he didn’t like throwing anything out, especially when he was immortal. It now proves handy. He got clothes from when he was thirteen, or at least his body was that size. It was a simple black pants and a brown long sleeved button up shirt. He went into his bathroom and grabbed a cream towel before making his way to the living room where Thomas was busy observing his feather pens.

“Thomas.” The old man said with a smile. Said boy snapped his head instantly to the old man and went to him. The old man removed the boy’s cloak, revealing how he truly looked. He had long, ruffled chocolate coloured hair and the same coloured eyes, except only a little lighter, giving it a yellow effect like a true werewolf’s eyes. His body was small and frail which also held many bruises, giving off the thought that his pack must’ve made him work hard. The old man gave the towel and clothes to Thomas, and showed him the way to the bathroom. The old man went back into the living room and studied a picture on his wall. It was a picture of his family…when they were still alive. Darius looked young here, about 30. It was of course not his real age, only how he looked. His black  hair stood up into the air, his violet eyes had a happy glint in them and he wore a black work suit. There wasn’t a freckle or wrinkle on his face. His wife stood next to him. Her name was Sarah Peters. She had long blonde hair and blue eyes. She wore a long purple sundress. In the middle of them were their son, Louis. He had light brown hair and the same coloured eyes. He was about four years old here, with a wide smile and dirt all-over his Sunday suit. Darius was truly in love with them both. But they both died eventually…. Not because of sickness or anything like that, but both died of old age. Sarah only realized Darius’s strange aging when she turned 60. She never knew he was a vampire…until he told her at her death bed. He never wanted her to know, so that she could never worry or be sad for him but… Darius regrets not telling her sooner. For on her death bed, Sarah was truly and honestly furious with Darius. Darius though that Louis would be affected by being half-vampire, but nothing did seem odd. So when Louis found out that his father was a vampire at his mother’s death bed, he moved away from his father forever. The only other time they saw each other would be at Louis’s death bed where Darius tried to get Louis’s forgiveness, but failed. He truly loved his family but regrets not telling them…

“It’s ok, mister Trancy.”He turned at his voice. There stood Thomas in the clothes.

“Come on Thomas, let’s get you to sleep.” Thomas nodded before a random thought popped into his head.

“Mister Trancy, are you aware it is against the law? Werewolves and vampires are at war.” The old man just waved his hand dismissively.

“Who cares about that silly old law anyway? If I want to help a small werewolf cub, than I can.” Thomas was slightly furious at this.

“I’m not a cub!” He stomped his foot and turned around, making the old man laugh. Thomas slowly peaked at the old man and smiled. “Mister Trancy?” He asked and the old man stopped laughing.

“Yes?”

“How old are you?” The old man blinked before smiling.

“Depends on how old you are.” This made Thomas confused. How can someone’s age depend on another’s?

“I am but a mere ten years old, mister Trancy. I guess I am a cub then…” He trailed off.

“Well then, if you want to know my age then put four zeroes at the end.” This surprised Thomas.

“Really? That’s so, old!” The old man laughed.

“Come on Thomas, let’s get you to bed now shall we…”

This will be turned into into a seperate book but there will be one more chapter like this one in Wrong Light so that it all makes sense, so you don't need to read the other book unless you wish to read it.  The story is called: Bewildered Foes, Comrades?