Painful hunger pulled Ranloo awake, instantly forcing him up to look for prey. As usual, he listened and contemplated going into the inn where he heard people talking. But survival instincts reminded him it was a bad idea.

Stalking to the back-door, Ranloo slipped out and spotted a goat bound to the pole outside. He stared at it. He really wasn't interested but took it anyway. Slicing its throat with a sharp knife, he drank its blood. Too weak, it barely sustained him. His hunger increased each night and it was becoming a grind to stay away from people. The animals kept him alive but seemed to lack something important, something vital. Carrying the dead goat with him, he disposed of it in the river, close to the docks.

Unsatisfied, he looked around. In the mild summer night air, mist rose from the river, and the stars blinked overhead. The moons' silvery crescents glowed in the sky. Restless energy tingled in him. He wanted to find other vampires, wanted to know where the vampire who had created him was, and he wanted to hunt. He clenched his fists. No. He didn't want to hurt people. He only wanted to go back home. See his wife and children again.

With a sigh, he started back towards the inn when voices approached from ahead. He stopped and listened intently. Three or four people talking, getting closer. He turned and walked in another direction. After a while, it became apparent they gained on him, walking the same way. Irritated, he threw a glance over his shoulder. Three poorly dressed young men, armed with clubs, trailed some distance behind him. Thugs. Their unwashed scent drifted towards him on the wind. Still, something stirred in him.

Ranloo pressed his hands over his ears, not wanting to hear them. He wished he could cover his nose too. He turned down a narrow alley, thinking to double around them and get back to the inn. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the men point and whisper. They were following him. Cursing, he lengthened his steps. He didn't want trouble, he was too hungry. He needed another animal.

Hurrying around a corner, he almost collided with a pair of city guards. What were they doing here? His eyes widened as they shouted in surprise and drew their weapons.

´It's him!` one of the guards yelled.

´Don't let him get away!` the other shouted.

Ranloo staggered back a step, turned, and bolted. The guardsmen followed. He could easily outrun them, but the three thugs shadowing him stood in the way, blocking the narrow alley. He faltered, looking for another way out. The guards came up behind him, shouting for him to stop. The thugs pointed with their clubs and grinned wickedly.

´We're gonna get that reward,` one of them said.

Panicked, Ranloo looked for a way around them. He glanced up. Nothing to climb on but the wooden walls themselves. ´Stay away from me!` he shouted, warning them.

The guards were ready to spring at him, their short swords drawn.

´Get down,` one of the guards yelled. ´On the ground, or we'll have no choice but to fight you.`

'Drop your weapon!' the other ordered.

Ranloo spun around, surrounded, feeling like a trapped animal. But he had no intention of giving up. They'd only kill him later.

´Get down!` the guard shouted again.

´No,` he replied hoarsely. ´Stay away from me or I'll kill you!` He was desperate. They were too close, he was too hungry. He barely resisted the urge to attack them, tear them to pieces and drink them dry. ´Goddess, help me,´ he whispered.

The three thugs spread out around him, their clubs lifted. He had to get away. One of them swung the wooden weapon at him and he instinctively jumped back. A hand grabbed his right shoulder from behind as another got a hold of his left arm. With a curse, he spun around and the grip on his shoulder slipped off. He pushed the one still holding his arm when pain exploded on the right side of his head.

He dropped to his knees, his vision going black, flashing agony in his head. With an angry hiss escaping his lips, he stood back up, took another hit on his left arm as a sword descended towards his head. With adrenaline driven speed he dove forward, under the blade and bowled the guard over. A kick in his side staggered him, eliciting a gasp.

He rolled over, panting heavily, and forced himself back up. Blood ran down the side of his face. Dizzy, he took a step back. He had them all on one side now, he could run. But a part of him didn't want to run, wanted to attack and kill them all. He could smell them, hear them, feel their warmth. He wanted it, wanted to sink his teeth into them.

They charged, weapons raised. Ranloo forced himself to turn and run, heart pounding. He didn't get far. Suddenly, his left leg stopped working and he fell hard to the ground with a grunt. Scraping his hands and knees, he looked down at his leg in surprise.

A crossbow bolt sat lodged in his calf, the wound bleeding profusely. He stared at it for a few precious seconds, uncomprehending. Three of the men were almost upon him and one of the guards stood further back with his crossbow raised. Baring his teeth at them, Ranloo hobbled back up, staggering and unbalanced. His head pounded and waves of hot pain shot up his leg as the shock passed. He couldn't run anymore, there was only fight or die.

He hissed at them, his fangs extending with a dull throbbing, ready to bite. The first man, one of the thugs, saw the vampire's expression and hesitated. A guard passed him by, sword leading the way.

Ranloo sidestepped, grabbed the guard's arm and pulled him closer. The man gasped in surprise and lost his balance. A second thug came up, waving his club at him. Without thinking, Ranloo used the guard as a shield. The man groaned as the crude weapon connected. Ranloo smiled briefly at the smell of blood and adrenaline, and the racing of hearts.

Unable to resist, he bit the guard in the neck. A scream resounded from somewhere. The man thrashed against his firm embrace. There was no escape. A bolt smashed into Ranloo's arm around the guard. He let go with a yelp. Anger rising to uncontrolled levels, he twisted the guard's neck with a satisfying crack before he could flee. Then he charged the next in line, one of the thugs, and received another hit from a club in his side. He grasped the man's arm, pulled, and twisted it hard. A loud snap followed by a piercing scream and the thug fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Three left.

One of the thugs turned and bolted. He instinctively followed. The man yelled, but Ranloo didn't comprehend his words. A bolt whistled past his shoulder and bounced off the wall to his right.

He jumped the fleeing thug, crashing to the ground on top of him. The man screamed wildly as Ranloo pulled his head up by the hair and bent down to bite him, exhilarated. Another bolt slapped into his back. He let go of the thug with a roar, turned, and charged back at the last guard.

The man's eyes widened as he desperately tried to reload in time. Ranloo flew at the guard, grabbed the crossbow, and tore it from his grasp. The man yelped as Ranloo hissed at him. He brought the weapon down over the guard's head as hard as he could. Blood spattered and the guard collapsed, his helmet clattering to the ground. Ranloo beat him a few more times before he realized what he was doing and threw the weapon aside on the ground, snarling.

A gasp drew his attention. His head snapped up from the dead guard to the last thug, running away from them whilst supporting his friend with the broken arm. Ranloo sneered and caught up with them in an instant. They cried out in unison. The yet unharmed thug let go of his friend who fell to the ground, groaning. Ranloo stopped and fixed his eyes on the man at his feet.

´I told you to leave me alone!` he growled, bent down, and grabbed the man by his tunic, hoisting him back on his feet.

The deathly pale thug's eyes opened wide, his breathing quick and shallow. ´Please,` he said with a trembling voice. ´Please, don't hurt me.`

Ranloo was past caring, too angry, too hurt, and too hungry. He pushed the man against the wall and sank his fangs into his neck, relishing the wonderful taste. Hot vitality flowed through him and, for a moment, time stopped. When he let go, the man fell with a thud to the ground.

Ranloo stood still, staring at the bodies, trembling with excitement, fear, anger, and a growing sense of failure. He couldn't go back like this.

He stumbled back to see if the man he had felled still lay there, but he had gone. Great! Two men got away, three dead. Perfect. Frustrated, he kicked one of the bodies, pain lancing up his left leg. Someone gasped and he spun around, looking for the source. A woman's pale face looked down at him from a window. Their eyes met but for a second, then she slammed the shutters closed. He cursed loudly.

Ranloo hobbled forward when stabbing pain reminded him of the crossbow bolts in his leg and arm. Bending down, he grabbed the bolt, broke it off at the tip, and pulled it out of his calf. He gritted his teeth at the pain, but it had to be done. His left hand had numbed from the bolt in his forearm. He removed that one too. Unable to reach the one in his back, he limped away from the scene before the thugs could return with backup. The men's stupid insistence to attack him when he'd clearly tried to warn them made him seethe with anger.

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What had one of them said? A reward? That didn't sound promising. If he got attacked every time he showed himself, he'd be dead soon. He couldn't take such beatings every night. Fearful, he looked around before entering each new street.

Cradling his wounded left arm tight against his body, Ranloo tried to shift his weight off from his hurt leg. Blood ran freely down the side of his face and he angrily wiped it away with the hem of his tunic. He needed new clothes again. And something to wrap his injuries with. His upper lip curled back in disgust. Why couldn't people just leave him be? Voices ahead made him stop short. He didn't want to meet anyone else. With no place to hide, he moved as fast as he could from the lit side of the street to the shadows under a few trees, hoping they wouldn't notice him.

A plump middle-aged woman in a fine blue dress and coat, boots, and her hair tied in a knot under a thin shawl, rounded a corner in the company of a big man. Probably a guard of some kind, Ranloo thought fearfully. The muscular man wore a gambeson and carried a longsword by his side. His long dark hair curled around his shoulders and serious face. Ranloo watched from the shadows as they got closer, fear twisting his guts. Rooted to the ground, he held his breath.

The woman looked in his direction and Ranloo tensed, pressing against a wall behind him, painfully reminding him of the bolt lodged in his back.

Her eyes swept past him. The guard too glanced his way, but the shadows were too deep and they continued on their way. Ranloo gazed after them in relief as they departed. He wouldn't have been able to fight, he wouldn't survive. Everything hurt.

Suddenly aware he wasn't breathing, Ranloo sucked in a breath. By the Gods. He shook the uncanny feeling off and padded out into the street again. He didn't even know where he was going, he just wanted to get away from the dead in the street, away from prying eyes. He didn't dare return to the inn in this state. He'd endanger Sern and everyone else.

´Please, my goddess...` he mumbled as he limped along the street. But remembering she had abandoned him, he quieted again. He hated not having anyone to pray to. He needed guidance and peace of mind. Now, all he had was uncertainty and fear of death. He had never feared death before, secure in his faith and knowledge of a peaceful afterlife in the nature goddess' realm. Now he didn't know what awaited him, and that terrified him.

Ranloo decided to get back to the old temple and hide there. Surely the guards and the hunters wouldn't look there? It was a temple after all. Painstakingly, he made his way to the old, narrow slums of Jaris. He didn't meet anyone else and after a long and slow walk managed to reach the ruin. He stopped and watched the old building for a while before approaching, alone and depressed.

He was just like the temple. Broken and abandoned.

Entering the ruin, he stepped into the nave and touched the altar, feeling the carved rose in the dirty stone surface. For several minutes he stood looking at it.

What deity was it? Abandoned like him? Good? Evil?

´Whoever you are,` he whispered in the dusty air, vaguely hoping the deity would listen. ´Help me, please.` Then he left the altar, leaving a bloody smear from his hand in the dust, and lay down on the dirty floor in the dark antechamber. Exhausted, even though the night wasn't over, he fell asleep, never seeing the shimmer in the air above the altar.

* * * * *

The night slowly passed as the moon crescents travelled across the skies and vanished behind the horizon. The sky brightened and the stars faded. Sern wandered back and forth across the wooden floorboards in their room. Where was Ranloo? Sern knew he'd got up and taken the goat because it was gone. But other than that, he hadn't seen or heard anything from Ranloo. What if something had happened? Maybe he had been caught by the hunters?

Sern went out and looked across the small courtyard behind the inn. Nothing. Everything was still and quiet. The sun would rise soon and the vampire was still missing. What had happened? Scared, he walked out into the street. Empty. Only the thin fog moved, slowly twirling.

Sighing, he retreated to their room. He should get to bed and sleep, but he couldn't relax. Where had Ranloo gone? He counted his money, sharpened his knives, washed his face and hands, and lay down. Staring at the ceiling for a long while, he counted the wood knots. Worry gnawed at him, and though tired, he couldn't sleep.

Eventually, Sern gave up, got back up and left the room. The rising sun cast long golden rays between the houses. He watched the sunrise with unease. If Ranloo was out now he'd probably burn to death. He hoped that wasn't the case. He had to find out where he'd gone. Sern walked back inside, to the main room, and waited for the innkeeper to wake up and get busy.

An hour passed before the first waitress came down from the rooms above and went into the kitchen behind the bar counter. She gave him a surprised look as she passed by. Sern nervously tapped the table with his fingers. As soon as the innkeeper come downstairs, Sern jumped up from the chair and hurried to meet him.

The bushy man regarded him with heavy eyelids, his hair a mess. ´Well, you're up early,` he said in a rough voice.

´Have you seen my friend?` Sern asked, not bothering to hide his agitation.

The innkeeper stopped and watched him more carefully. ´The elf? No, I 'aven't seen him. I don't usually do. An' that's a good thing.` He left and vanished into the kitchen.

Frustrated, Sern stood in the middle of the room for while, feeling lost and biting his lower lip. Then he followed the innkeeper into the kitchen.

´Hey! Get out, this is only for the staff!` the gruff voice barked as soon as Sern went through the door.

´Please, listen,` he begged.

The innkeeper's bushy brows knitted together.

´I can't find 'im,` Sern whined. ´He's gone, an' it's daytime now.`

The innkeeper raised an eyebrow. ´I can't do anything 'bout that, boy,` he said. ´Maybe he got caught?`

Sern swallowed and bit his lips again.

´Why don't you go out an' look for him?` The innkeeper said then, his voice softening a bit. ´If he's been caught, surely there'll be some news about it. Go.`

Sern nodded, it made sense. He turned to leave when the innkeeper's voice stopped him again.

´Here, take this,` he said.

Sern caught a newly baked bread with his hands.

´Maybe he got in trouble an' hid somewhere?´ the innkeeper said. ´You should look around.`

´Thanks,` he said earnestly and ran out the door.

Sern wandered aimlessly as the streets heated in the bright sunlight and watched people getting around to work. At first, he couldn't find anything, and he didn't hear anything about vampires being caught either. But then, something caught his attention. A ring of people looking at something.

He slid up behind them, trying to see what the fuss was about. The small crowd talked excitedly and pointed to a poster on a wall. Most of them were young men, Sern noted. Like himself. Poorly dressed, dirty, in need of money.

He pushed through the crowd to see what it said. There was a picture of a desert-elf with long hair under an announcement that read ”Wanted”. Cold settled in the pit of his stomach. It didn't look much like Ranloo, but he was sure people got the point. He struggled slowly through the text; a reward of five silver griffins were promised to whomever could give information about this man. ”Dangerous individual, do not attempt to capture alive,” it read below the picture. In finer text was added that ten gold dragons would be given to anyone who could kill him. A staggering price.

Sern wanted to tear the picture down. He was sure most people would ignore the warning for a chance at that much money. Ranloo must have got into trouble, maybe even been killed. Sern stared at the picture, his skin clammy, the buzz of the young men around him droning on.

Then, a voice drew his attention. Boasting about the money he'd get and what he would do when he got it. He claimed he'd be the first to find the elf. Sern observed the man. Tall and muscular, he looked only a few years older than himself.

´How're you gonna find 'im?` Sern asked with poorly masked irritation.

Surprised to be addressed by this small insignificant-looking teenager, he laughed at Sern. ´I've got many pals, boy,` he said importantly. ´We'll find an' capture this guy.`

Angered by his boastful tone, Sern folded his arms. ´It says you shouldn't capture 'im 'cause he's dangerous.`

Several of the young men laughed at him. Someone shoved him in the back.

´What? You scared of one lone elf?` one of them sneered.

´Tis just a wimpy fairy,` another agreed.

Sern's cheeks burned hot with anger. ´He's not a wimp!` he retorted, then immediately regretted his words.

Everyone turned to him, eyes widening. With a curse, he realized his mistake.

Before they could react, he tore the linen poster from the wall and dove out between them. Shouting and jostling, they gave chase. He ran as fast as he could. If they got him, he'd be in a world of pain. Adrenaline pumped as he dashed between people and ran through alleyways, turning this way and that.

They were hard to shake, but after some time, he managed to put enough distance between them to hide in an unattended cart filled with turnips, pulling a worn blanket over him. Panting heavily, he tried to lay still and quiet as they passed by moments later. He stayed for as long as he dared, then slipped away in the opposite direction before the merchant owning the cart returned and noticed.

Sern continued looking for news about Ranloo, taking extra care to avoid notice. Several hours passed before he got word of a murder that had taken place. Apparently, someone had killed two city guards and a random thug in the streets and got away with it. He was almost certain it was Ranloo. However, it cheered him to hear he'd got away. He wasn't particularly upset about the dead guards. They had it coming anyway. They made life hard for anyone poor or in trouble. If they attacked Ranloo, he'd defend himself.

He studied the torn picture and sighed. They had probably seen it and intended to get rich. Sern frowned. But where was Ranloo now, he wondered, folded the linen poster, and jammed it in his pocket. He'd probably been wounded in the fight. Where could he have gone?