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, zigzagging to and fro. 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. 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. But 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 emphasized 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 in a voice as dead as his news.
So that explains 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, "So... why are you here?"
No one knows that something happened between them. He had 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. Falling for someone of his own kind is taboo. Unacceptable.
"I saw you so I came," was the simple reply from the Count. The Count was tensing, the hunter realized. "Why do I still...?" the Count 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... I missed you." He held the hunter's arms and pulled him close. A strong grip. A lover's grip. The hunter, alarmed, pried the Count's hands away.
Once, on a hunting trip, the hunter got bitten by a poisonous snake. He was too far from the town to go back. He was alone, and he knew he was dying. 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 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 had just helped live. And besides, the hunter has his own secrets...
One day on a hunting trip he met a witch who told him that he was in dire danger. “What is going to happen to me?” he asked her. And she told him that the only way to avoid that danger will be for him to kill the princess of the kingdom.
Scared for his life, he made plans and lured the princess away from her royal retinue on that fateful day when the princess went into the forest. He was about to catch her when the Count interfered and saved the princess. But now she’s really dead. Does that mean he is already free from that danger, and that the Count is already free to...? He should not smile.
"What do you want?" the hunter demanded now in a rasping voice. He was having difficulty speaking since all his concentration was being focused on keeping a straight face. The Count did not know how this was making him suffer. Still he couldn't... shouldn’t accept whatever all these means. Taboo. Unacceptable.
He remembered that night when the Count visited him in his forest hut, seemingly without the princess’ knowledge. The Count 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. 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 the hunter, once he closed the door, he sank down on the floor and wept. Wept for his blindness.
The Count's eyes were shining now. Shining with emotion and yet he did not or could not reply. His could-have-been handsome face contorted with mixed feelings for the hunter and for the princess. 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 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.
There was a crow, though. It looked sick because it seemed not to know where it was headed, zigzagging to and fro. 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. 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. But 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 emphasized 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 in a voice as dead as his news.
So that explains 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, "So... why are you here?"
No one knows that something happened between them. He had 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. Falling for someone of his own kind is taboo. Unacceptable.
"I saw you so I came," was the simple reply from the Count. The Count was tensing, the hunter realized. "Why do I still...?" the Count 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... I missed you." He held the hunter's arms and pulled him close. A strong grip. A lover's grip. The hunter, alarmed, pried the Count's hands away.
Once, on a hunting trip, the hunter got bitten by a poisonous snake. He was too far from the town to go back. He was alone, and he knew he was dying. 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 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 had just helped live. And besides, the hunter has his own secrets...
One day on a hunting trip he met a witch who told him that he was in dire danger. “What is going to happen to me?” he asked her. And she told him that the only way to avoid that danger will be for him to kill the princess of the kingdom.
Scared for his life, he made plans and lured the princess away from her royal retinue on that fateful day when the princess went into the forest. He was about to catch her when the Count interfered and saved the princess. But now she’s really dead. Does that mean he is already free from that danger, and that the Count is already free to...? He should not smile.
"What do you want?" the hunter demanded now in a rasping voice. He was having difficulty speaking since all his concentration was being focused on keeping a straight face. The Count did not know how this was making him suffer. Still he couldn't... shouldn’t accept whatever all these means. Taboo. Unacceptable.
He remembered that night when the Count visited him in his forest hut, seemingly without the princess’ knowledge. The Count 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. 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 the hunter, once he closed the door, he sank down on the floor and wept. Wept for his blindness.
The Count's eyes were shining now. Shining with emotion and yet he did not or could not reply. His could-have-been handsome face contorted with mixed feelings for the hunter and for the princess. 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 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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