The wind howled through the dark, desolate forest. The leaves rustled, the grass swayed. It was a beautiful night, all things considered.

Near an old tree lay a fallen hunter, likely chasing after the same Noble as he was. It was hard to say for certain. D approached the fallen hunter, a human. They lay sprawled across the dirt, their body battered and broken, but there were thankfully no marks around the neck. The hunter had not been Baptized, it would seem. Good. There was hope for them yet.

Blood pooled beneath the hunter, soaking into their clothes and staining the earth, the smell of iron was sharp in the night air. D knelt beside the wounded hunter, his expression as stony and unreadable as ever, though his eyes briefly lingered on the deep gashes across their chest. Deep, but not fatal with the proper care.

"Still breathing, but not for long," Left Hand muttered, the voice slithering from beneath D's cloak. "That blood...you can smell it, can't you? Just a sip, and it'll all be over. You know you want to."

D remained silent, ignoring the temptation that stirred within him. That pang of hunger and the never ending thirst wasn’t new to him. His gaze shifted back to the hunter's face, pale and struggling for breath. There was no time. The hunter was on the verge of death, and the choice now fell to D. If he chose to do nothing, they would die.

"Come on," Left Hand coaxed, "It’s right there. Why let it go to waste?"

D's eyes narrowed, the briefest flicker of irritation crossing his face before he schooled his face into that familiar, cold expression. He dismounted his horse and knelt by the human’s side, digging into his pouch for bandages. He couldn’t let them die here.