February 26th, 2013 | Published in Haventon Chronicles
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The surge of speed Ragnar had used to flee from the accursed werewolves had torn open his wounds and as soon as his panic had faded the pain had made him collapse. The last time he had been in this much pain he’d been a vampire for less than ten years.
He wanted nothing more than to dig into the earth right here and sleep until his wounds healed but in his current state that might take decades. Things were moving too fast – he didn’t think his kind had decades. Anyway the werewolves would find his resting place if he didn’t break the link they would have formed to him. He needed to find a place the moon would reach him when it rose and allow it to heal him as much as possible, then he could find some blood and make sure the accursed ones lost his scent. Then he’d be able to bury himself and finish healing knowing it shouldn’t be more than half a year or so. That shouldn’t be too long. He gritted his teeth and began crawling laboriously through the woods just outside Haventon towards the top of a hill where he could await the healing light of the moon.
He was nearly at the Crown when he felt the blood link between him and Caroline snap. He bit back a snarl and reminded himself it had been inevitable once they took her from him. In daylight and weakened by his wounds he wasn’t even sure if the werewolves had used a ritual to break the link or killed her. He almost hoped it was the latter because he dreaded to think why they might keep her alive. Then again that blonde witch had been with them and she wouldn’t want Caroline killed or harmed.
He paused in his thoughts and he finally reached the top of the hill and rolled onto his back, waiting for the moon and hoping the wolves were too preoccupied with Anna to come after him again that day. He couldn’t fight any more until he had healed.
And how could Anna be one of the accused ones when he knew that he had sensed the moon’s blessing in her? It made no sense to his pain-addled mind and he feared that it wouldn’t even once he was healed. Maybe the healing sleep would bring inspiration. It sometimes did.
He lay there for some time drifting in and out of a pain filled stupor but unable to rest properly with the sun shining on him. Eventually the sun set he felt the light of the moon caress his skin. The pain of his wounds eased as they began to knit together and he realised just how intense the hunger roiling in his gut was. It took a supreme effort to remain where he was and wait for his wounds to heal as much as possible rather than charging off in search of blood immediately. And where was he going to get blood without being obvious? If he had known what was going to happen he would have kept George alive long enough to drain him. Of course he would have done a lot of things differently had he know what would happen.
It took nearly an hour of lying in the moonlight for his wounds to close as far as they were going to. Once he was sure they had he climbed carefully to his feet, aware they were still raw and bleeding slightly, and headed back down the hill considering his options. The ritual to hide himself from the werewolves was simple enough since he always kept the elements needed at several of his safe houses but blood was still a problem. He needed it to finish healing but he doubted his supplies of animal blood would be enough even if he visited all his stashes. Still it would take the edge off his hunger and maybe help him think more clearly. He got his bearings and headed for the nearest of his houses that would have everything he needed.
A/N: As of posting the Presale Campaign for The Storm Child is up to 18 backers and $260 with 18 days to go.
Please contribute if you can! There’s lots of great perks. Thanks!