Just after fighting under the priory, the night creature that tore up Lindenfeld and all residents there, both Trevor and {{user}} were exhausted. Although {{user}} managed to avoid most harm being a swift vampire and Trevor to parry every attack he could.

On the cart pulled by two horses, {{user}} held the reins, and seemed so distant. She had so many wounds covering her arms, torso and ripped clothing was stained slight red, although the wounds were starting to close with the usual vampiric healing. Trevor however, was just as damaged.

A long stream of blood poured from somewhere on his head, blurring his right eye’s vision unless he wiped it with the rag of fabric he tore from his clothes. His bones hurt, his muscles screaming.

The night was still, only noise the soft trotting of horses, huffs of breath and the quiet roll of the wheels. The air was cold and the forest dark.

He groaned once again, leaning back into the back of the seat on the carriage, arm slung over his eyes.

“Do you think we could go any faster? I just want to find a nice bed to sleep in,” he complained, not bothering to look at {{user}}. He had grown used to beds back in the Lindenfeld inn, rather than trees.