6 CHAPTER 6

Another groan from Sam brought me back to reality. Tearing a piece of cloth from the dead thug, I proceeded to collect all the silver coins I had scattered. I then tied the pouch back to the unconscious guy. One thing was clear; I couldn't let him gain his consciousness in this place.

With less effort despite his huge body, I easily heaved him onto my shoulders.

Sam's POV

Sam's eyes flickered open, and an immediate throbbing pain pulsed through his head. Groggily, he reached up to touch the source of the ache, his fingers grazing the coarse texture of his own disheveled hair.

Memories of the night's chaos began to seep into his consciousness, the echoes of urgent shouts, menacing bandits, and the metallic tang of blood in the air.

Startled, Sam sat up abruptly, his poor sight gradually adjusting to the dim surroundings. The moonlight lit the clearing faintly. Everything seemed awry, out of place, or maybe he was the one out of place.

A disquieting stillness hung in the air, and a chill ran down his spine as he scrutinized the strange forest around him.

"This is not where I'm supposed to be,"

He surveyed the surroundings with a furrowed brow. His eyes darted around, searching for familiar horrors he knew too well he should see, but nothing. It seemed like everything he had seen and encountered were just illusions.

"No, no... they should be here," Sam said with fear now transforming his features, all along constantly rubbing the sore spot on his forehead as if reminding himself that the pain was the evidence of everything.

Then he recalled his last conversation with the big thug. He should be their prisoner; he should be in some dark place with his hands tied, not a free man.

He quickly banished the thoughts of freedom from his head. He was certain he was not hallucinating, so just because he could not see the bandits, it did not mean they were not around.

slowly, he began checking himself, but everything in him was as it should be, even his porch. He froze.

Close to a minute, he stood just there with his hand on the porch tied securely on his waist, and now he realized that he was right. Something had indeed taken place when he had passed out, something quite strange.

He could swear that the silver had been the reason the thug had developed interest in him, and he could recall all too well the guy grabbing the porch from him before pulling him towards his men.

He was also certain that they had not appeared like people who would return anything to anyone for any reason. So how the hell was his porch back in his possession? He untied it, and on close examination, all the coins appeared to be there.

"what is happening to me?" the poor guy mumbled as he ran his hand through his hair. "I can't be going mad, can I? No, no, I must find them... I must find what happened to me."

Suddenly, a neigh rang from further ahead in the clearing. Sam's eyes suddenly turned towards the source of the sound. It was a horse, not just any horse; it was his horse. Forgetting his momentary fear, Sam rushed towards the animal. The calm eyes of the gelding stared at him, Sam couldn't help thinking the animal was trying to tell him something, maybe it too, like him, had seen too much this night, or maybe it was just his paranoia.

A tingly sensation ran through him; it was as if someone was watching him. Sam suddenly turned to look behind him, but there was no one. Just then, he spotted what looked like luggage.

"What?" He had come through that direction, and he could have sworn that nothing had been there; he had not looked, but he was certain it had not been there a few seconds ago.

Taking a closer look, he was even further surprised to realize that it was his racksack.

"What on hell was going on here?" Sam wondered. Was it him losing his sanity, or was the whole world going crazy? His head was beginning to ache now, and his body was now trembling; he could feel it. He could feel his shaking fingers and his sweating palms.

Sam could swear he was sure of what he had seen this night; he knew he should find his comrades, dead or not. He should at least ascertain it, but here in front of him, he had a means of escape, and if what he had heard before passing out was right, chances of any of his men being alive were nonexistent. Also, the thought of delivering himself to the bandit after he had been miraculously saved wasn't a pleasing prospect.

Kneeling down, Sam scrutinized the racksack and was relieved, albeit surprised, to find everything that had been in his personal supply was still there. That meant there was no food since food had been on a separate horse. His priority now was to seek safety, to get out of this goddamn wood, especially because that nagging sensation that he was being watched was still assailing him.

His gelding was saddled, and so Sam had an easy time tying the racksack on the back of the saddle. It would be a hard ride for the animal, but they needed to find at least some human semblance of civilization.

******

DRACULAR

I observed as the boy slowly regained consciousness. Over the next few minutes, he appeared to be questioning his sanity, and who wouldn't? Sam had been through a lot recently, and even my cold heart felt some kind of pity for him.

There seemed to be not a soul he could trust in the world, not a soul that gave a damn about him. But then again, I reminded myself that, both as Dracula and my old self, I wasn't really new to this. Sometimes, the universe chooses some people for some special abuse.

I watched as he scampered around his surroundings, moving further and further from the place I wanted him to see. For some strange reason, I couldn't seem to get inside Sam's mind. I couldn't read his thoughts or plant suggestions, which intrigued me.

The horse, however, was not so complicated. A carefully planted thought made the animal break the night's silence with a wild neigh. Maybe it was too loud, but that did the trick. Sam's attention was now where I wanted it to be.

Initially, I had considered sticking around until he came to, but on second thought, I decided against it. Like I said, I did not want to be the one forced to answer all the questions or forced to lie. Besides, it was not time for us to meet yet.

Observing the guy, I noticed he appeared to be undergoing the five stages of grief all at once. Denial, however, seemed to take a prominent place. I clasped his luggage in my hand – the last thing I had gone to retrieve for his journey, but I had gotten caught up in other things.

It wasn't as if I could leave all the corpses rotting around the Kingsroad, especially not with one of them with a bite on his neck that had apparently drained all his blood. No, inquiries and curiosity were not good for my mission, so I had carried them into a river that I had identified nearby. I could not tell whether it was the White Knife itself or one of its many tributaries. My knowledge of Westeros did not get that far.

Anyway, the final respects to the dead were what had delayed me, and by the time I had arrived, the guy was already conscious and rubbing his forehead. I knew, however, that I had to return his supplies. They were not much – just a few cloths and a waterskin, which he would definitely need to reach the next town.

I waited until he was rubbing his horse, and quickly, I materialize behind him and placed his luggage.

I know, it would be more sanity questions for him, but at least he would have his supplies back. Sam seemed to sense my presence because he turned and scanned the area behind him. I could have sworn he had caught me as I disappeared back to my vantage point, but as it seemed, he hadn't. Or perhaps he had, but if I knew anything about humans, they would rather eat their noses than face the truth. Who would want to believe that he had seen a human seemingly moving like the wind?

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