Surviving the Dark ( LGBT - MxM )

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

15 years later - current day...

The blood coating the freshly killed corpse ran in rivulets to the harsh unforgiving ground, only to be sucked between the rocks and disappear but for the dark stain. Even that would soon vanish with the swift passing of time. The figure crouched over the body too was drenched in blood, both that of the dead and his own. The deep red fluid appeared black in the dim gray light as it seeped through a hundred cuts and scratches and flowed from the long, jagged rips on his bare left thigh and chest. It dripped from deep wounds only partly healed, now torn open from the struggle to survive. The figure did not hesitate to bend over the dead creature and tear out large pieces of flesh with his sharp teeth which he then proceeded to chew and swallow raw, drinking the still warm blood that welled up from the bites.

The battle had been brutal and sudden, he being caught unaware as he fell asleep deeply, which was unusual in itself. The monster had crept up on him as he slept underneath an overhanging rock, exhausted from lack of food and intermittent sleep. Much to his bad fortune, he had travelled into a rather lonely stretch of ground covered sparsely with spiny poisonous grey plants and with barely any living creatures. The few small rodents that he did manage to catch were barely sufficient to give him enough strength to walk, yet he had to, in order to leave that godforsaken piece of barren land alive. This had happened almost a week ago, but now it appeared that he was almost out of that poisonous land, since a monster had appeared. He only managed to escape because he heard its nails scrabble on the bare rock, his extremely sharp hearing honed through years of hunting and surviving in the wild, alerting him to the danger. His animalistic instinct then took over as he came awake immediately, lashing out with the jagged broken fingernails of his left hand as his right hand reached out to grasp his trusty knife, a lucky find from a painful past life. The handmade wooden handle with its long sharp metal blade, fitted comfortably in his palm with the familiarity of years of use. He had managed to tear a shallow wound with his nails and as the monster paused slightly from the shock of the pain, he used the break to bring up his knife to gut it gracefully from sternum to throat. But he was slightly too late leaping back, possibly due to weakness, and the creature's long claws slashed lines of fire from right shoulder to his abs. As he stumbled back in pain, the creature fell still trying to reach him, ripping deep trails down his thigh. Hunger assailed him at the sight of the fresh meat and blood and he had quickly moved to crouch over the creature and slashed its jugular to quickly end its continuing struggles.

Tarden wiped the blood from chin as he stood up from the remains of the monster, now reduced to a few pieces of flesh and gristle clinging to bone. He had been truly starving and had gorged on the meal, having learnt to fill his stomach and energy levels as much as possible when he could. Now all that remained was the cleanup. Having finished practically the whole corpse due to his hunger, it was unnecessary to pack the remaining few pieces. The bones would only add weight. He decided to leave the remains and move quickly, but before that he had to clean the blood and bind his wounds, or it would draw more creatures with the smell of blood. With his weakened state from the wounds he wouldn't survive. Tarden move slowly and painfully to the pack lying behind him. He had slept with it under his head to avoid the very slight chance of some passing being of his own race stealing his meager belongings that he had scavenged through the years. He had some spare cloth to cover himself, made of the resilient material of the ancients, found in an out-of-the-way ruin which was probably why they had still been there, a container with a tight lid once again found in the same ruins, that he used to store precious clean water, a little thing about the size of his hand that gave a stream of light when he pressed a little bump on it and he had found by accident that if it stopped he only had to leave it out in the sun for it to work again, but he used it sparingly. He also had a few small shiny knick knacks that he had collected through the years and used to trade when he had to go into communities of his own race, though he tended to kill more than trade, and he had had some dried meat which was now over from his dry phase. But most important of all were these clean white cloths that he had found in this strange colorless packet in some ruins a couple of seasons ago. He found them good to wrap around wounds, and made sure to wash and reuse them. He had also found these glass bottles with purple liquid inside which had a pictures of using on a wound, and after trying it himself found that it healed wounds faster, preventing infection. Now Tarden took the water and wet an old rag which he used to wipe himself down, cleaning his wounds of visible filth after he removed the now bloody cloth he wore at his waist to protect the fragile area. He treated the wounds by pouring the purple fluid over the wounds, which burned slightly, and then he wrapped them in stretches of white cloth. His wounds treated, he covered himself, tying a plain dark piece of cloth over his waist, and large thick stretch with print, once bright now a dull gray, around his shoulders for warmth and to keep any smell of blood from seeping out.