Midnight Rising

Slipping

I've always hated hiking. Walking endless miles to get to the top just to turn around and go back again. What's the point? Hiking into a camp full of werewolves who may or may not be able to change even without the moon only adds to the dislike. The uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach grows as we continue upwards. This is incredibly stupid. I should have just put my foot down, thrown Elena over my shoulder, and taken her back to Mystic Falls. I should have listened to Diana. 

"We've got about a mile left," Alaric announces, staring down at the unfolded map stretched out between his hands.

I glance up at the sky above us, the sun has sunk, creating dull orange and pink mixed around the edges with deep black, "The suns about to set."

"I can see that, Damon," Elena huffs with annoyance.

Holding my hands up in surrender, I continue forward, "I'm just saying."

"The moon doesn't reach its apex for a while," Elena rebuts, the same annoyed tone in her voice. "We have time."

A twig snaps behind us, the whole group halting. Alaric lifts the crossbow strapped across his back, training it in the direction of the noise. Stumbling out of the trees is a man drenched in blood. The substance runs down his face, the origins seeming to be his eyes, nose, and ears. There's a slice on his neck, the man's fingers rubbing at it. His eyes are wild, pupils pulsing despite the steady light.

"Stay where you are," Ric warns, the arrow fitted in the crossbow ready to be released into the man's chest.

"Vampire," the man's face twists into a monstrous snarl. He rushes me, getting my back up against a tree.

I fight, grabbing hold of slippery wrists as I try to keep his gnashing teeth from making contact. Alaric shoots the attacker in the back, but this seems to do nothing. The man continues to thrash around, doing everything he can to break out of my grasp.

"Damon!" Elena tosses a clear grenade filled with honey-colored liquid. I catch it with the tips of my fingers, smashing it into the man's face.

He howls in pain, temporarily forgetting about me as his hands fly to his face. The skin there bubbles; burning a fierce red. Taking his moment of distraction, I push the man away from me. Alaric helps me tie the screaming man to a tree, his hands tucked safely behind him.

"Let me guess, hybrid," I grumble as I finish tying the last knot. "These ropes aren't going to hold for long. What else do we have?"

Elena rummages around in the backpack, holding out a rope, "Ric, here, take these."

Keeping a hand on the hybrid's chest, I twist around, grabbing the rope from Elena. The skin seers, finger's recoiling of their own accord. "Ouch."

"I said Ric," Elena shoots back, rolling her eyes as she leans down, handing the cursed rope over to Alaric.

The teacher walks around the tree, wrapping the rope around the werewolf before securing it with a knot in the back. He digs around in the backpack, popping open another vervain grenade. I watch as he dumps the contents over the ropes, letting some flow down over our guest's hands. The hybrid lets out a few whimpers, wiggling his fingers against the pain. "All right. That's the last of the vervain. We don't have enough to hold him. I don't think we're gonna make that ridge before the full moon."

"If we can get him to talk, we don't have to," Elena butts in, arms crossing over her chest as she approaches our hostage.

The man's neck snaps, contorting at an inhuman angle. He lets out a howl. Arm veins begin to bubble, the skin turning a sickening grey-green color as the hair begins to grow at a rapid rate. I watch in disbelief, shooting a look at the sun still hanging low in the sky. "Is he turning?"