Struggling through the thick undergrowth, the hunter shaded his eyes from the noonday sun above. He scanned the skies for signs of clouds to shield his bare back from the heat. There was no speck of a cloud that hot summer day. There was a crow, though. It looked sick because it seemed not to know where it was headed. And it was flying too high for a crow. Things are strange today, he thought nervously, scanning the enchanted forest to his right.
He continued searching the trail for tracks of animals. A wild boar would be best. It would last me several days, he thought. It would go well with the vegetables I've just found on the other side of the clearing. A loud cawing sound made him look back up at the sky to search for the crow. Crows have always been bad omens. They reap decay and celebrate disaster. The crow was gone.
He wiped the sweat on his brows with his forearm and continued to hunt. He was silently cursing the hot summer sun when a rustling sound made him look back quickly, his spear at the ready.
A black-cloaked man was striding towards him. His black garments emphasizing his starkly white skin. The gaunt cheeks, bloodless lips, long black hair. He was thin, and he walks like he had an accident before. He limped a bit. A small smile formed unwillingly on his lips as he realized who it was.
The Count stopped just a few inches from him. Regardless of the proper distance they should have maintained. He was too close that he could see the quirking of his lips. Too close to see the tear stains on his cheeks. But what surprised him was that he never thought that the Count had such lovely eyes. His eyes were too alive for the rest of his body. And they were intent on him. On all of him, he realized with a tensing of his stomach.
"She's dead. The princess is dead. Just this morning," the Count said. So that explained the tears, he thought. He tried hard to keep a straight face. That was wondrous news but he shouldn't let the Count know that. "I'm sorry," he replied instead, giving him his best smile.
The Count's eyes flashed. And his eyes moved down. The hunter stood taller and asked, "Why are you here?"
No one knows that something happened between them. He has always wanted the Count. He admired him. He was different, quiet, and intelligent. He has a good sense of humor, everything he wants. He is very interesting. But the Count should never know about how he feels. The Count might lose interest in him, once he realized that the feeling was mutual. And besides, the hunter has not given up on his dream of ending up normal. He has the same dreams the Count had given up on. Falling for someone of his own kind is taboo. Unacceptable. Unorthodox.
"I saw you so I came," was the simple reply from the Count. He was tensing, the hunter realized. "Why do I still...?" he said in a rush, as if the words were being ripped from his mouth. "These things I did, these past weeks, it's because of you. I missed you." He held the hunter's arms. A strong grip. A lover's grip. The hunter, alarmed, pried the Count's hands away.
Once, on a hunting trip, he got bitten by a poisonous snake. He was too far from the town to go back. He was alone, and he was about to die. He ran to the nearest dwelling, which looked abandoned. But knock on the door he did. Fear for his life overcoming his fear for what could be inside. The Count appeared on the door in time to catch him as he fell unconscious.
He had to stay for a few weeks to recover from the poison. The Count has prepared the antidote just in time to save him, and he also taught him a lot about potions and alchemy. And the hunter was avid to learn. Slowly, he got to admire the Count. He fought the emotion. Fought as hard as he could. This is taboo. Unacceptable. I am a man! He knew the Count felt the same way, and that made it doubly hard. He did not care whether the Count was a vampire. The Count told him that he wouldn't injure someone he has just helped live. And besides, the hunter has his own secrets...
But he isn't the only one being warmed by the Count's affection. There was the princess, this slip of a girl from the castle. He hated her! And planned to kill her but he was unsuccessful because of the interference of the Count himself. But without that attempt, the princess wouldn't have met the Count and became friends with him. In wanting to kill the Count's love for the princess, he achieved the opposite.
"What do you want?" the hunter demanded in a rasping voice. He was having difficulty speaking since all his concentration is being bent on keeping a straight face. The Count did not know how this was making him suffer, but he can't accept it. Taboo. Unacceptable. Unorthodox.
One night, the Count visited him in his forest hut. He confessed his love for him. The hunter was angry. Inside, he wanted to cry weakly into the Count's shoulder. You stayed with her. You chose her. You built me up then you let me down. I love you! But what he said in his coldest voice was, "I feel bad and disappointed. Leave me. Forget me because I want to leave everything behind." The Count was stricken by his alarming decision. After hopeless attempts of pleading, he walked limping back to his house, crying bitterly on the way. As for him, once he closed the door, he sank down on the floor and wept. Wept for his own blindness.
The Count's eyes were shining now. Shining with emotion. His could-have-been handsome face contorted with suppressed feelings. With a swish of his cloak, he suddenly transformed into a crow and flew towards the forest, raining him with black feathers.
Steady, my Count, he said to the wind as he looked at the retreating crow. Hold on. I'll find the strength one day. I'll have the courage to confess. Steady, my Count. If we're meant to be, you will wait for me.
Tears dropped on his chest. With a roar, he transformed into a bear, the same one who attempted to kill the princess, and came running towards the valley. I love you, too. But as long as I keep this to myself. As long as I am in denial, we would stay this way. That is my decision.
On the far side of the enchanted forest where the crow, flapping his wings without vigor, was flying, a loud guttural growl of anguish was heard. A cry of longing, pain, and frustration. A cry too harsh that it surpasses human emotion.
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