Unlikely friends

The scent of blood called to Darius. Slow footfalls on the soft grass of the meadow the only sound to be heard. Some minutes had passed since he picked up the smell and followed it. Unmistakable to the young Undead, he knew it led to prey, and the all important energy that it returned to him. With the sinking sun this night Darius had awoken with a hunger unparalleled in his short physical life. The fawn from the previous hunt had filled him with strength, but it had waned quickly and his being yearned for the life force to be replenished.

Senses keen the almost inaudible groan rang loud in his head. Seeing a large oak tree further in the direction of the noise Darius sprinted for it, legs bounding with seemingly no effort yet propelling him forward and at incredible pace. Beyond the large solid tree Darius could make out the panting form of large grey wolf laying on its side, the rich heady aroma of crimson life seeping from a large gash in the belly. Darius scanned the surroundings for competitors seeking to rob him of his find. Satisfied he was alone he again turned back to the creature, inadvertently locking eyes with him. At that moment Darius was filled with emotion. Through the eyes of the wounded animal he could feel its' own hunger driving him, could sense the heart beat faster as the scent of the large boar washed over him, the thrill of the silent hunt hitting Darius like an opiate, and finally the burst of fire in his own midriff as the tusk tore deep into his form. Realisation struck Darius like the morning dawn, this beast was a hunter.

Darius rose from behind the tree and stepped closer to the wolf, not to feed, but to observe. Crouching now he began to lay hands on the animal feeling the heat from the open wound, using all his will not to drink from such an easy source. As he neared the gash the wolf turned with blinding speed biting at Darius. Swiftly clamping a strong hand over the drooling maw holding it closed, Darius bit into his own pale wrist, allowing the blood to fall into the stricken hunter. The pressure on the clamped hand began to release and Darius lowered the large head to the grass beneath. As he did so the beasts breathing began to steady and the wound started to mend, knitting itself before the vampire. Glancing down he noted his own bite mark had already fully healed. As he backed away his limbs felt heavy, his head swam with the uncertainty of a drunken man, and legs struggled to hold the lean figure upright. Although the night was young, he must get back to his cave.

It seemed like an age before the sanctuary of his shelter loomed over him. Thoughts no longer raced and the weakness had ceased. All that was left was fatigue. Every portion of his frame seemed to weigh on him like stone. From a distance, Darius heard a long confident howl then slid helplessly into slumber.