The Damned Walk Among Us

Licking their Wounds

The ride back to the McCoy ranch was grim, the night's encounter weighing heavily on everyone. The brothers were battered and bruised from their skirmish with the fledgling vampire, each man riding in silence as they fought through their pain. Wyert's ribs throbbed with every breath, cracked under the force of the creature's inhuman strength. Matthew clutched his side, a gash in his torso still seeping blood through his shirt, while Jacob sat hunched in the saddle, his throat raw and bruised from the vampire's grip that had nearly crushed the life from him. Katrina rode ahead, her back straight, her expression unreadable. She knew this fight was far from over.

As they reached the ranch house. Wyert dismounted stiffly, suppressing a groan as pain shot through his chest. His brothers followed suit, their movements slow and deliberate. No one spoke. The confrontation with the vampire had shaken them, and the reality of what they were up against was beginning to set in.

Matthew sat slumped in a chair, his face pale and slick with sweat. The rag he had tied around his torso was soaked through, failing to staunch the slow, steady flow of blood from the gash in his side. His breathing was shallow, and his eyes were glassy as he stared blankly ahead.

Wyert knelt beside him, concern etched deep into his face as he pressed a fresh bandage against the wound. His own ribs ached with every breath, but it was nothing compared to what Matthew was going through.

"We can't keep this up," Wyert muttered, frustration and fear mingling in his voice. "He's losing too much blood.

Jacob hovered nearby, clutching his bruised throat. His voice, raspy and weak, barely carried. "We need a doctor, Wyert. He ain't gonna make it through the night like this."

Katrina, who had been standing quietly in the corner, her sharp eyes assessing the situation, stepped forward.

"I'll go," she said.

Wyert looked up, surprised. "To Silver Creek? Alone?"

Katrina nodded. "I know the way, and I can move faster on my own. You're in no condition to ride, and Matthew can't wait." Her gaze flicked to Jacob, who winced as he swallowed, his throat too tender to argue.

Wyert hesitated, torn between the urgency of Matthew's condition and his instinct to keep control of the situation. "Silver Creek's a ways off," he said his voice strained. "And the road's not safe at night – especially not now."

Katrina's eyes narrowed, her voice calm but yielding. "I've faced worse. If you want your brother to live, I'll be faster than you. I know how to handle myself."

Wyert searched her face for any sign of uncertainty but found none. She wasn't asking for permission – she was stating a fact. And deep down, he knew she was right.

After a long beat, Wyert gave a slow nod. "Alright. But be quick, Katrina. He doesn't have much time."

Without another word, Katrina moved to gather her things – her revolver, the silver dagger, and a few provisions for the ride. Her movements were precise, efficient. She wasn't one to waste time.

As she strapped on her gun belt, Jacob stepped closer, his voice a strained whisper. "Be careful. There's... there's more out there than just that vampire."

Katrina gave him a brief nod, her eyes softening for the briefest moment. "I know." Then, without another word, she headed for the door.

Wyert stood and followed her to the porch, the cool night air hitting them both like a slap. The wind had picked up, rustling the dry brush that surrounded the ranch. The sky was clear, but the vastness of the dark frontier beyond the ranch felt oppressive, as if something unseen was watching, waiting.