If he hadn't refused Boarstaff's offer to stay in his quarters, he could be there at that moment, wrapped in the warchief's arms instead of alone in his cold cave. But that would have beenselfish. The settlement was still learning to trust him; seeing him move into Boarstaff's home would only complicate matters. Better to earn his place through actions rather than association, no matter how the solitude ached.
Movement in the forest beyond the cave caught his attention. Sebastian went perfectly still, senses expanding outward, tracking the disturbance. Not orc patrol, their distinctive heartbeats had become familiar to him over the weeks. Something larger, heavier. Four-legged.
A massive buck staggered into view, its proud antlers dripping with rain. Blood matted the fur of its left hindquarter, where what looked like a wolf bite had torn into muscle. The creature limped forward, seemingly unaware of Sebastian's presence, driven by blind instinct toward the cave's shelter.
Sebastian remained motionless, watching as the animal struggled closer. Its labored breathing, its weakening heartbeat, its inevitable end all registered with predator's clarity. The days-old wound was severe; infection had already begun spreading through the majestic creature's system. Death would claim it within days, perhaps hours.
"Nothing to do with me," Sebastian murmured, turning away. The buck's natural end was part of forest cycles, part of existence untouched by artificial intervention.
The buck stumbled again, nearly collapsing before regaining its footing. Its scent filled Sebastian's awareness, wild, untamed, so different from the carefully processed blood of feeding chambers. So different from Boarstaff's blood, which carried power his transformation had learned to crave.
Sebastian closed his eyes, wrestling with instinct that grew stronger as hunger intensified. He could simply ignore the creature, let nature take its course. Or he could end its suffering quickly while satisfying his own needs. A practical solution that benefited both.
His father would have calculated efficiency, weighing resource expenditure against nutritional gain.
Sebastian chose compassion instead.
He moved through the rain with fluid grace, bare feet making no sound on rain-soaked earth. The buck registered his presence too late, its head rising in alarm as Sebastian's hands found its neck. The end came swiftly. He broke its neck with a single precise movement that severed the spine cleanly, ending suffering in an instant before his fangs descended.
The feeding was unlike anything his noble training had prepared him for. Without mechanical regulation, without carefully processed sustenance, the experience overwhelmed his senses. The buck's life flowed through him, wild and chaotic and completely real. Nothing artificial, nothing filtered, nothing safe.
When it ended, Sebastian knelt beside the fallen creature, rain washing away evidence of the feeding. The blood pulsed power through him, copper threading beneath his skin glowing with energy that belonged to neither world yet somehow bridged both.
He gathered the buck's massive form across his shoulders, adjusting to its weight with ease. His transformation had changed more than merely appearance, strength flowed differently, not the calculated precision of vampire engineering, but something wilder. Something that recalled what his kind had been before processing everything real into artificial safety.
The settlement came into view through rain-blurred focus. Sebastian paused at the edge of the trees, watching warriors move between buildings, children darting through puddles with unrestrained joy, elders gathering beneath the Heart Tree's shelter. Life continuing in all its unpredictable glory, so different from the regulated existence he had known.
He moved through shadows with practiced ease, the buck's weight barely registering across his shoulders. The rain providedperfect cover, most orcs having retreated indoors or beneath sheltered areas. None noticed the transformed vampire moving silently between their dwellings, carrying his offering toward the warchief's door.
Sebastian deposited the buck gently on Boarstaff's doorstep, arranging it with careful respect rather than casual disregard. Not a trophy, but a gift. Not calculated advantage, but simple offering from one who had taken only what he needed, leaving the rest for those who could use it better.
He slipped away before anyone could spot him, ascending a nearby tree with fluid movements that seemed almost elemental, hands and feet finding perfect purchase on rain-slick bark, body twisting through narrow gaps between branches until he settled in a perfect vantage point. The dense foliage provided cover while allowing him to observe the settlement's rhythms. Close enough to feel, briefly, part of something larger than isolation.
The warchief's door remained closed as rain continued to fall. Sebastian settled against the trunk, letting his breathing match the gentle cadence of rainfall against leaves. For a brief moment, the ache of loneliness eased. Not gone, but bearable. Not cured, but understood.
Movement below caught his attention. A small figure darted between buildings, her dark hair plastered to her face by the persistent rain. Sarah paused at Boarstaff's doorway, noticing the buck immediately. Her expression shifted from surprise to curiosity as she studied the offering. Then, as if sensing observation, she looked up directly at Sebastian's hiding place.
He went perfectly still, but her gaze never wavered.
"I can see you," she called, voice barely carrying over the rainfall. "Your eyes catch the light funny."
Sebastian considered remaining silent, letting her believe she was mistaken. But something in her steady gaze,unafraid despite everything she had witnessed, made dishonesty impossible.
"Hello, Sarah," he replied softly.
"You brought the deer?" she asked, gesturing to the buck without approaching Sebastian's tree.
"Yes."
She studied it thoughtfully. "It's big. Enough to feed lots of people."
"That was the idea." Sebastian remained where he was, respecting the protective distance that kept her safe from his nature.
Sarah looked back up at him, her head tilted slightly to one side. "Do you have to stay there? In the tree?"
The question caught him off guard. "I... it's safer."
"For who?"
