She awoke some time before dawn, an uncomfortable ache in her bones and a throb in her temples. Maud sighed heavily through her nose and rose from her messy bed, her bare feet padding across the wooden floors. The woman rubbed the back of her neck while approaching the wash basin in the corner of the room. The water she poured into the bowl was cold, as expected, and made the tips of her fingers sting as she cupped some in her hands to wash her face. Maud grabbed the strip of linen resting on the edge of the wash basin and began the task of scrubbing her teeth clean.

With something like hesitance, Maud carefully rubbed the cloth against the long, sharp canines in her mouth. She refused to acknowledge her reflection in the mirror, which hung from the wall atop the basin, and dried her face with a towel after rinsing the linen. Maud traded her short night gown for a white collared shirt with a leather vest and dark trousers. A white lock — stark against the rest of her dark brown hair — tickled her chin as she sat on her bed and leaned forwards to slide her sock clad feet into a pair of boots. She then tied her shoulder length hair into a knot, both white and brown strands framing the sharp edge of her jaw.

Maud massaged her temples with the index and middle fingers of her left hand while opening the door with her right. She closed it silently behind herself and ventured down the hall. She froze mid-step however, when the sound of her mother's muffled weeping came from one of the closed doors. Her silver gaze met the floorboards in something like shame and she hurried her pace to the front door of the house. She all but yanked her cloak from the rack and fled from the house, throwing it over her shoulders.

She tied its strings into a small knot, the grey fur on the cloak's hood tickling the back of her neck. Maud took a hatchet along with a bow, a quiver full of arrows and a large sack with her. She rested the wooden handle of the hatchet on her shoulder, trudging further into the wilderness surrounding her home. She walked until she started going further up the mountain and then some more, her breaths coming out in small clouds. The sun was struggling to peek through the barricade of grey clouds when she got to her usual spot.

Maud walked to the old stump in the middle of the clearing and dropped her things at its base. She lifted the first log on to the stump, her rough fingers — sunkissed and calloused — becoming a tad wet from the morning dew on the bark. She dried her hands on her trousers before taking the hatchet in hand. Her lungs expanded within their ossein cage, filling up with the frigid mountain air as she breathed in deeply while lifting the cutting tool over her head. The hatchet was swung down with her next exhale, a white cloud that quickly dispersed, and the log was split into two pieces. The woman left the hatchet embedded into the stump and set the pieces of wood aside to replace them with another log, allowing her mind to wander.

Careful fingers travelled down the length of her throat, prodding and massaging the aching flesh as they made their way to the middle of her bound chest. They made their way to her bruised ribs and Maud clenched her jaw, focusing on the fireplace instead of the screaming pain in her middle. The doctor's knowing gaze bore into the side of her face. Her mother watched from the sidelines, looking awfully small while sitting on an armchair and wringing her hands anxiously.

"You're a bit malnourished," The doctor murmured, prodding the visible rib on Maud's side with her finger. Greta lifted her head to gaze at Maud's face once more, "Have you been eating well?"

Maud ignored the way her mother stared at her almost accusingly and lowered her gaze to meet the doctor's eyes. "Three meals a day. The problem is keeping them down." She replied in a murmur, afraid she'd cough if she spoke any louder.

A troubled look took over the doctor's expression, but she quickly masked it as she moved over to examine Maud's hands. Greta pressed her thumbs into the middle of Maud's palms and she clenched her jaw to hold back any noises, but she couldn't help the twitch of her fingers. Maud doubted the doctor didn't notice, but the woman didn't mention it and instead gestured for her to open her mouth.

The younger woman did so, allowing the doctor to examine her gums and teeth, focusing on the state of her fangs. Greta looked mildly relieved at what she saw, white teeth and relatively pink gums. Something in the back of Maud's throat tickled and burned and she jerked back to twist her head away as harsh coughs made their way out of her mouth. The brunette covered her mouth with a closed fist. The dry coughs became wet as something travelled up her throat.

The coughs died soon enough and when Maud took her hand away, she found that it was speckled in dark blood. She grimaced, listening to her mother's horrified gasp and watched Greta's expression twist in dismay. The doctor stepped back and rubbed the bridge of her nose, "...I don't have much knowledge of hybrids and their needs, my actions until this point have been based solely on theory—"

"How much time do I have?" Maud asked, gaze set downward.

"A week or two, perhaps even less." Greta replied tersely, as if isolating herself from the situation, and turned to face Maud's mother. "I apologize, Alba." She spoke and swiftly left the room, rubbing at her eyes. Maud nodded to herself, resigned, and chose to stare at the floorboards rather than acknowledge her mother's heart wrenching cries.

Maud tied the fresh cut wood together with strong strips of cloth and proceeded to place them in the bag. The sun was higher up in the sky now, but the cold hadn't left. The brunette let out a puff of air through her mouth, blowing the white strands from her face, and took the bow and quiver in hand. Dried leaves crunched under her boots as she made her way past the treeline. She hooked a finger under her sleeves and rolled them up to her elbows.

She moved across the forest grounds with care, silent, and drew a single arrow from the quiver. Maud focused on her hearing, her silver eyes slowly surveying her surroundings. Her gaze fell upon a stag, fairly large, feasting upon roots and fallen fruit. She lined up the arrow and took aim, the feathers on the arrow brushing against her cheek. Maud exhaled softly, preparing herself to let go, when her vision swam and blurred. The ground spun under her feet and her hands shook terribly. Her weapons were thrown to the side — alerting the stag and allowing it to flee — while she stumbled into a tree for support.

Harsh coughs wracked her weakened body and Maud dug her nails into the bark of the tree, squeezing her eyes shut. The taste of coins flooded her mouth as her coughs became wet, phlegm and coagulated blood rising from her throat. The brunette groaned miserably and spat a glob of sickness into the ground. She opened her eyes and wiped away the blood from her lips with her fingers, rubbing her palm against her dark trousers.

Maud straightened and stumbled as she regained her balance. She took note of the missing stag and cursed. Irritated, she chose to abandon her bow in the forest and instead marched back into the clearing to gather her supplies. Muttering curses and complaints, Maud made her way back down the mountain much quicker. The bag was dropped on the porch and Maud stomped her feet firmly to get rid of any dirt clinging to her boots before entering her home.

It was quiet, she noticed in relief, her mother must have fallen asleep. That was for the best, Maud supposed. She'd much rather do what she was about to without her mother lurking. Maud searched for paper and graphite around the house, staying away from the bedrooms. The hybrid tucked her few white locks behind her ear and fell to her knees in front of the chest pushed against the corner of the room, a few feet from the fireplace. She pried it open with care and halted at what she found inside.

Like she thought, there was paper and writing materials inside, but also many portraits and sketches. Maud looked over her shoulder once, her dulled eyes sweeping the area, before turning her attention to the chest's contents. She took one of the portraits between her fingers, this one upside down, and slowly turned it. It had been done in oil paints, very well done and preserved. Her mother's face, younger, smiled back at her from her place in a tall man's arms. This was the first time Maud saw his face.

Luscious sandy brown curls, a few shades darker than hers, framed his angular face and complimented his fair skin. Brown eyes stared back at her with something akin to mischief, his lips spread into a grin that displayed pearly white teeth and a pair of long fangs. Maud could see herself in him. In the hard edge of his jaw, in the texture of his hair, in the shape of his nose, in his smile, and suddenly she felt very very ashamed. After all, she'd been tormenting her mother with the face of her absent lover… Only to threaten her with the sudden and inevitable death of their only child.

Maud frowned down at her mother's pointed silver gaze and placed the portrait back into the chest. She took a sheet of blank paper along with a piece of graphite. Leaning over the table, graphite ghosting over the paper, she stared. Her heart was pounding away in her chest and cold sweat slowly gathered in the back of her neck. Maud took her lip between her teeth, fangs digging into the soft flesh, and started writing before she could regret it.

Dear Mother,

By the time you wake, I will be long gone. I have gone in search for what we believe is what will cure me. Please, be patient and try not to worry. I will be back by the end of the week, hopefully accompanied. And, if not, I would like you to abandon this home and find Greta. Move on without me. Be happy. I love you, Mama.

Forever yours,

Matilda

Maud set the graphite down and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms, exhaling shakily. She took one last look at the home she grew up in and fled. Maud set up a quick pace in favor of the wind so her mother wouldn't be able to track her and didn't look back. Her bones ached and her limbs quivered, but she kept running.

"Maud— Matilda!"

Maud turned around with furrowed brows, her cloak swishing with her movements. Her fresh kill, a pair of rabbits, hung from a rope held in her left hand. Greta burst through the treeline, holding her skirts up with one hand while holding a thick book to her chest with the other. Her black hair was a frazzled mess, held back with a plum colored cloth tied into a knot. That, and the shadows under her eyes, struck Maud as odd. Greta was always a woman that took good care of herself, to see her like this was concerning.

"Greta." Maud said in a hush, attempting to calm her as the shorter woman finally reached her.

"It was there! Behind the shelves, they were hidden, but I found them—" Greta babbled, going through the loose papers she held in her hands, filled with notes and sketches and other unidentifiable scribbles.

The younger woman placed a hand on her arm, a concerned expression marring her face, "Greta, what are you talking about? What did you find?" Maud queried.

Greta finally stopped babbling and took a steadying breath before looking up at her. "I found the cure."

Maud felt like all the air had been knocked out of her lungs by an unseen force and fumbled with her catch lest she let it fall. She ducked her head, white and brown mildly obscuring her vision as she gave the witch doctor her undivided attention. "What do you mean you found the cure?" It came out as a hiss, disbelief thick in her voice.

Adjusting the book and its loose papers, Greta looked up at her. "I mean exactly that. I found this in the library, hidden behind the shelves. I don't know who wrote these or who hid them—" She paused, taking a deep breath. "But the answers are here."

And for a while, Maud could only stare. After countless nights without proper sleep, after days of aching bones and harsh coughs and shaking hands, they've found it. However, instead of the expected joy warming the chill in her bones, she felt the cruel claws of dread dig into the soft flesh of her stuttering heart.

She lifted her arm to rub the back of her wrist against her temple as a sigh slipped past her lips, "Why do I have a feeling I'm going to strongly dislike what I have to do to get it?"

Greta smiled, a forced twist of her lips meant to lighten the mood but instead fed the dread inside her with too much teeth. "Oh, you'll hate it."

"Shit." Maud sighed again, sounding awfully tired. She dropped her arm, her catch swaging from its rope in her grip, and pressed her lips together. "Alright, out with it then. What do I have to do?" She asked begrudgingly, preparing herself for the answer she dreaded.

"These notes were written in a great deal of languages, but in the end they all tell the same tale." Greta stated, tapping slender fingers on the worn spine of the thick book. "The hybrid in question must find the one who sired them," Her smile became strained and Maud's mouth snapped shut with the click of teeth. "And drink their blood."

"Oh, fuck me."

Maud honestly had no fucking idea where she was at this point. She'd been following the subtle tug in the back of her head and kept running through nothing but wilderness until nightfall. There were no inns or huts in the area, and she'd seen hide nor hair of any humans. She simply found a large tree with protruding roots when her knees trembled and buckled and threatened to collapse under her exhaustion, slumping at its base and curling up in her cloak before letting sleep drag her into the void.

It was the screech of something unholy that awoke her sometime later, when the moon was high in the sky. Her eyes snapped open and fell upon a large beast, covered in matted fur and sticky blood the same color as its beady eyes. Its long fangs gleamed in the moonlight and it lowered its skinny body to the ground, flaring its wings out to appear larger than it was with another shriek spilling from its bloody maw.

Maud pressed her back against the bark and shoved against the roots to straighten her spine. Her lips pursed in recognition. This beast, smelling of rotting flesh and sulfur, was one of Dracula's awful little monstrosities. Greta had spoken of them once after her travels, her voice filled with disgust as she spoke of Dracula's hordes and his Forgemasters. They stuck to small villages and foul cities like Gresit, so Maud hadn't come across them in the mountains. Until now, that is.

Her fingers tingled and ached as her nails grew in length, sharpening into claws. She held her breath and grit her teeth, every muscle tense as the demon took sharp inhales of her scent and cocked its head in what seemed to be confusion. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the ugly thing lunged. Maud jumped to the side and threw her arm out, digging her fingers to the knuckle into the beast's bared throat. It shrieked and screeched, caught off guard, flailing wildly.

Heart racing in her chest from an emotion she didn't want to recognize, Maud shoved it against the tree and slashed her other hand down its face. She bared her teeth in a snarl in response to its pained cries and plunged her thumb into its eye socket with a repulsive squelch. Blood immediately squirted out of the wound as something popped under her claw and splashed on to her jaw, dripping down the side of her neck in warm trails. She caught some of the crimson droplets on her tongue in reflex and her stomach tightened in a sudden, ravenous hunger.

Maud latched herself on to the other side of its throat and dug her sharp fangs as far as they could go into its dark flesh before she could reconsider. The creature shrieked by her ear, bucking and kicking fruitlessly. She groaned loudly in satisfaction as warm blood gushed into her mouth, her teeth tearing off chunks of meat as her jaw worked more of its flesh into her mouth. Maud ripped her fingers and fangs out of its throat, eliciting a strangled cry. Blood trickled from the gapping wounds and she switched to its shoulder, tugging and clawing at it insistently.

The limb gave away soon enough, bones popping and snapping while muscle tore and came apart. The hybrid closed her mouth around the socket to catch the next gush of blood, relishing in the hellish screeching and weak struggles. Taking advantage of its open mouth, she bit its jaw and hooked her fingers into its maw, over its teeth. She bit and chewed on its flesh, swallowing mouthful after mouthful. She slowly pulled down on it's open mouth until its jaw cracked and came off with a bit of resistance and a gurgled shriek. The hybrid yanked its head down stuck her tongue into the demon's good eye, fangs scraping the bloody socket. It slipped into her mouth after a harsh suckle, wet and squishy, the optic nerve stubbornly hanging on until she jerked her head away to break it off.

The creature's body jumped and twitched in its last moments, gurgling and choking on the blood from its torn throat. Feeling it go limp, Maud finally stopped and stumbled back. Her chest heaved with gasping breaths and she found her belly full, finally agreeing with its contents. Exhausted, the hybrid decided not to think about it and instead stumbled away into the roots of another tree while ignoring the blood drying on her face and hands. She turned her back on the dead thing and pulled her furred hood over her head before resting her head against the bark and closing her eyes. She dreamt of violence and blood and gore.

When morning came, it seemed to be just as unforgiving as the night before, since she awoke with a silver sword just an inch from her throat. Feeling more annoyed than fearful, Maud's lip curled over her grit teeth and she slowly looked up at its owner. The man's icy blue eyes regarded her, narrowed and untrusting as a frown tugged at his lips. A vertical scar marred the left side of his face, pink and thin as it began an inch above his brow and trailed down to the middle of his scruffy cheek. His dark hair was messy and unkempt, curling around his neck, but Maud guessed she wasn't any better.

A dark cloak with white fur was draped over his shoulders, parted by the arm that held the sword against her neck. Her eyes fell upon the family crest branded on the breast of his shirt, recognition making her heart race. Maud cursed her luck and locked eyes with the monster hunter, the Belmont. The man's nose wrinkled at the sight of her teeth and the blade came closer to her vulnerable neck as his eyebrows knitted together.

"What the fuck are you supposed to be?" The Belmon's words were mildly slurred, slow and low as he spoke. Was he… hungover? The smell of booze and filth assaulted her nose a moment later and a bit of tension melted from her shoulders. A drunk Belmont was still a dangerous thing, the bastards killed demons with their bare hands back in the day. If Maud made it out of this alive and healthy, Greta was going to pay.

"Thought you Belmonts knew all about the supernatural." Maud quipped before she could bite her tongue and curled her fingers into the dirt. The sharp tip of the blade poked at her throat and she tensed again, going silent.

"A vampire can't travel by daylight, a dhampir wouldn't have attacked a night creature like that, and a werewolf would have torn that fucker to bits and moved on." Belmont listed off, slowly adding pressure to the blade at her throat. "You fucking ate its face and took a bloody nap until sunrise. So, I'll ask again, what the fuck are you supposed to be?" He questioned, the words threatening and much more clear than before. The slur in his voice was gone, as if it never existed.

It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Or maybe that was the sickness.

Her throat tickled insistently and her mouth filled with excess saliva. Maud's body jerked against her will, startling the Belmont into taking a step back, and she whipped to the side to heave and vomit a mix of black blood and phlegm. She coughed harshly, blinking away the tears in her eyes and spat out a clot. Her hood had fallen off and her hair was coming loose from its knot, white and brown strands obscuring her view. Maud tilted her head and stared at Belmont through the gap. His eyes were wide in shock and his expression was coated in something like disgust and hint of pity. The sword was no longer pointed at her, its tip towards the ground and held slack in his grip.

A bitter grin twisted at her bloody lips, baring pink teeth in his direction. "Since you want to know so fucking badly, I'll humor you." Maud rasped, breathless. "I'm an abomination on the verge of death."

"Hybrid." The word slipped from his lips in a mutter and he rubbed his face harshly with his hand. "Fuck me." The man sounded so conflicted and done with life that she couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled from her throat, sounding garbled and pathetic.

God, her life was a mess.