Pain was the first to return, enough to make Velkan want to crawl back into that nice, comforting oblivion. But that was never an option, not for him. He was far too stubborn. She'd always said so.

Wait, who'd always said...?

Hard to focus. No matter; it didn't seem important right now. One thing at a time.

As he forced the fog to clear from his mind, the all-over ache resolved itself into pinpoints of pain. Not much of an improvement, that, but it gave him something to focus on. A hundred little discomforts, small enough to be ignored. The pounding in his head. His shoulder, a slow throbbing, almost burning sensation. And his feet were cold. Oddly, that last managed to overpower the others.

Opening his eyes didn't help the pounding in his head any, but he managed a quick glance around. A riverbank. And he was half in the river. Well, easy enough to fix one problem, then. He crawled a few feet forward, out of the water, then forced himself up into a sitting position to take stock of the situation.

That throbbing in his shoulder turned out to be a series of puncture marks, already healed over. Angry red lines radiated out from the wounds. Infected. He'd have to get that looked at when he got back to... wherever it was he was going.

Wait. That wasn't a good sign, was it?

He blinked rapidly, trying to force his head to clear. It didn't help.

But that was something else that he could think about later; best to take care of the immediate situation first. Nothing to be done about that wound for now, and the pounding in his head he assumed was from the fall.

Fall?

He frowned at the river, looking back upstream. Tall, sheer cliffs rose on either side. He couldn't possibly have survived a fall from there.

But I did.

Yes... That felt right, somehow. He'd been... hunting? Yes, hunting. With his sister. Anna. And there'd been an accident.

Too hard to think about it. His sister had seen him fall, that was the important bit. She'd be worried about him. Best to be getting home, then, and quickly. It was getting dark.

He got to his feet carefully, but the pain was fading fast. Except for his head, he felt fine.

And after a fall like that, this really should be bothering me, shouldn't it?

A miracle from God, perhaps. And why in the world did that thought make him feel suddenly ill?

Another addition to the list of things to worry about later; right now, he had to get himself home. Which might be rather difficult, since he didn't recognize the area. But there was a wide, fast river in front of him, and steep cliffs rising off to his left, neither of which he wanted to try crossing. That left the forest. And although a part of his brain was screaming a warning against wandering the woods at night, somehow it didn't seem all that important.

His feet seemed to know where they were going, even if he didn't. He'd lost his boots somewhere, to the fall or the river's current. And while it should have hurt, walking barefoot across a forest floor covered with stones and underbrush and tiny scurrying insects, it felt... rather nice, actually. Soft dirt, shifting slightly under his toes. Natural.

Logic said that he'd just survived an impossible fall, and he really ought to be taking it easy. But he still found his legs stretching further, faster, until he was running, almost flying as he leapt over the underbrush, the wind stripping the last traces of moisture from his clothes. Every step sure, even in this slowly darkening gloom. Breathing easy. A grin slowly spreading across his face, and why had he avoided the woods at night again? Running, not from anything, not on the trail of anything, just for the sheer exhilaration of it. Like the forest was his. Like he was the only creature in these woods.

And that made him slow, made him frown, because it really did feel like he was alone here. No bird calls. No rustling in the underbrush. Not even the biting insects. As if every creature in the forest had gone into hiding, watching the passage of some great predator.

He knew those signs. He'd watched for those signs. Lying in wait, silent, letting the... the predator come to him.

He froze, listening. Waiting. But every instinct formed from a lifetime of hunting and being hunted said these woods held no threat to him.

Another thing he wanted to puzzle over, but it was too hard to think straight. He shrugged it off. It didn't matter now, he was almost home.

Wait, home? I don't even know where I am.

He broke into an easy, ground-eating lope. It was only a few more minutes before he burst out of the woods, staring up at the castle.

But... that's the wrong castle...

The moon overhead was just past full, and partially obscured by clouds, but there was more than enough light for him to pick out the form of the old Frankenstein place.

Well. At least he knew where that was. There would be a trail around here somewhere that would lead him straight into town.

So why were his feet carrying him toward the castle doors?

"Well, now this is a pleasant surprise."

He knew that voice. His weapons-

...were gone. Washed away in the river.

Not that they would have done him any good anyway.

The dark figure in the doorway moved forward, out of the shadows. His pale skin seemed to almost glow as he stepped into the moonlight.

"Velkan."

His name on Dracula's lips sounded like a death sentence.

No weapons. No chance. But he'd searched for this man his whole life, and there he was, striding down the walkway. Casual. Confident.

"Your heart's pounding, little prince." A quick turn and the monster was just a few feet away from him, feet tracing the first few steps of a dance. "Are you so afraid of me?"

Voice hardly more than a whisper, almost intimate, like a cold caress. A crooked smile that did nothing to calm him down.

"Good."

Even if it was hopeless, he could not simply do nothing. He waited for Dracula to step just a little bit closer, and then he lunged, hands crooked into claws as he went for Dracula's throat.

Dracula held up a hand. "Stop."

And he did.

All his weight on one leg, fingertips brushing the skin of Dracula's neck, and he froze.

Dracula smiled again, and leaned into Velkan's grip. "What were you trying to do, little prince? Strangle me to death? Twist my head off my neck, perhaps?" A short chuckle, and Dracula shook his head.

Velkan could feel Dracula's cool skin under his hand, the large vein in his throat; he could have taken the creature's pulse, if he'd had one. And he could not make himself tighten his grip.

Dracula's command coiled around him like a chain.

Dracula stepped back, just slightly, and began circling around him. Velkan followed him with his eyes, but he could not so much as turn his head.

"It's been years, Velkan. You look different." Cold skin brushed against the back of his neck. "You smell different, too. And you act different. Walking alone in the woods at night, how dangerous! You never know what could find you."

Face to face again, and though Dracula's expression was amused, his eyes were cold, dead. "You don't even know just how different you've become, do you, my little prince?"

This was worse than chains; at least chains could be struggled against. Velkan could not even will himself to move. But his mouth was free, at least. "I'm not interested in your games, Count. If you're going to kill me, then do it!"

"No," Dracula said simply. He reached a hand out to cup Velkan's face, and God help him, Velkan could not make himself flinch away. "Not yet," Dracula amended. "You're far too interesting to waste."

As Velkan eyed him warily, Dracula turned and strode back toward the castle. At the doorway, he crooked a finger. "Come," he ordered. And to his disgust, Velkan could do nothing but obey.