ONE
The sun was rising over the moor. The horizon bled purple into the sky, then melted into pink, peach and gold before meeting the blaze of white gold sunlight. A bird winged up into the sky, a dark silhouette against the pale.
The werewolf twitched in his sleep as he felt the night leave. His dreams flickered, grew thinner and vanished, and he opened one eye. The unicorn was not asleep, but lay with his legs folded underneath him, watching the bird as it crossed the sky.
The werewolf sat up and scratched violently behind his right ear. He stretched, yawned expansively and groaned. His jaws and the dark brown fur on his chest were black with dried blood. He sniffed the ground, followed a scent to a nearby rock, then lifted his leg and urinated.
The unicorn got up. He shook his mane, then stood still and breathed in the chill new morning air, his lion’s tail curling and twisting against his hind legs. A shiver ran down his body. He stared at the rising sun, then he turned and began to walk west, into the darkness that the sun had not yet touched. The werewolf padded silently at his side.
* * *
In the gloom of the Breeding Hut, the two humans eyed each other warily. The man was tall and dark-eyed, with wide, powerful shoulders that moved uneasily under his rough coat. The woman was quite beautiful, pale and delicate, with golden hair caught up by a blue ribbon and curled into long loose ringlets. She held a candlestick in her hand, and the faint light carved dark hollows under her cheekbones.
The man’s eyes flicked from the woman’s face to the ceiling rafters to the packed dirt floor. He licked his lips, began to speak, then stopped and cleared his throat. The woman watched him, a small grave smile curling the corners of her perfect mouth.
“Now then,” the man said. He took a step towards her and hesitantly held out his hand, as though to an animal that he wished to coax closer. “What do they call thee?”
“Thaw Beauty,” the woman said. “What do they call thee?”
“Wuthering Strength,” he said. “Is’t thy first time in here?”
She nodded. “And for thee?”
The man looked down. “No. I’ve—I’ve been in here before.”
“Were ye not successful? Did ye not give them a child?”
The man’s face grew red. “I was nobbut a lad, then, an’ I—I didn’t...”
His voice trailed away. The woman looked at him, then stepped closer and put her hand in his. “Thou art a man now,” she said softly. “Wuthering Strength.”
The man looked down at their clasped hands, then at her face. She smiled at him, and her face was like the sunrise. The man said, wondering, “Th’art beautiful” and he stroked her face as though it were a delicate blossom, easily bruised.
* * *
As the sun rose in the sky, the unicorn and the werewolf crested the hill and looked down on the village. It was no more than a collection of stone-walled houses with rough dirt tracks leading from one building to another. A few sheep grazed in a small pen and three horses grazed around their picket lines tied to the side of a large barn.
The werewolf sniffed the air and growled, the dark hair rising along his back. He broke into a trot and the unicorn followed him down the hill. As they drew closer, a human came out of the barn, leading a grey mare. The man had a long russet moustache and lighter hair that he constantly pushed back out of his eyes. He wore woollen trousers and a long-sleeved tunic, and when the horse nuzzled his shoulder, it left a dark wet stain on the brightly-dyed cloth. The man led the horse around the barn to the track that led away from the village towards the west. The wind blew their scent back and the werewolf stopped, sniffing.
The unicorn looked at him inquisitively, but the werewolf remained intently watching the village.
A figure emerged from one of the houses and strode toward the man holding the horse. A growl rumbled in the werewolf’s throat, and the unicorn shifted uneasily, tossing its horn. Below them, the man held the horse steady as the second figure mounted and gathered up the reins. He was short and weather-beaten, dressed in a similar fashion to the man, but he wore a twisted golden torc around his neck and he carried a long hunting spear with a collar of black raven feathers. The werewolf’s teeth gleamed white beneath quivering lips, but the vampire below remained oblivious. He turned the mare about and nudged her forward down the track.
The werewolf and the unicorn watched him until he was out of sight before continuing on their way.
* * *
After the first time, the woman sat awkwardly on the bed and wrapped her arms tight around herself. Her eyes were closed, but she could hear the man’s ragged breathing. “I’m sorry,” he kept on saying. “I’m sorry, I—I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s all right,” she managed. She opened her eyes and saw him kneeling on the bed in front of her. She felt the pillow crumpled behind her back, stuffed partly down between the headboard and the heather-stuffed mattress. “It’s all right,” she said again. “It’s all right, it really is.”
She felt sore deep inside herself, and when she moved, slowly and carefully, she felt the blood already drying on the inside of her thighs. There was blood on the sheets too. The man saw it and his face turned scarlet.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “Did—Did I hurt thee greatly?”
“Everyone hurts—th’ first time, I think.” She felt gooseflesh rising on her arms and shivered. “Do we...” She swallowed. “Do we have to do it again?”
“I—I think so. Mebbe.” He looked terrified.
She slid slowly down in the bed and lay on her side, still hugging herself. She waited, but the man remained awkwardly kneeling. She took a deep breath. “Shouldn’t we get on with it?”
“No, I—Us should wait. I can’t—I—Let’s wait.”
She looked up at him. He shifted back a little, as though he were afraid to touch her.
“It’s no’ so bad,” she said. “It’s hurtin’ less now.”
“Tha’s lyin’.” He wouldn’t look at her. “Us should wait. Us’ll wait.” He rocked back, slid his legs down and searched for his clothes on the floor. He gathered them together, brown trousers, white shirt, dark waistcoat and necktie.
She watched him dress, then, as he buckled his belt, she said, “Tha’ can’t go again yet, can tha’?”
He darted a glance at her, then pulled on his shoes. “Us’ll try again later,” he said.
* * *
The next village they passed was bigger and older, and they skirted carefully around it, keeping the wind before them. This village had brick houses and cobbled roads, and the sun caught the spire of the disused church and flashed dull fire. Even watching from a distance, they could see more vampires this time; a female in a faded flowered dress digging in a front garden, two very young ones playing in a doorway while another female patched a pair of trousers, an old male mending a bridle.
They saw two vampires on the very outskirts of the village, and the hair rose again on the werewolf’s back. The male wore a cloth cap and rubber boots and carried a gun in the crook of his arm; the female was dressed in a neat dark blue dress and her short dark hair blew about in the wind.
The werewolf stood frozen, taut and tense like a bowstring, but the vampires never moved. They just stood, side by side, and watched the moor.
* * *
I know this has fantasy elements, but it's also historical and the fantasy forum is very busy, so I thought I'd put it in here for now. Please be as harsh as possible; every type of construcive abuse is very welcome, but especially on first impressions, what you think of the characters, how you think the story's going and if you'd read further. Also if there's anything you don't understand, lol. The accent is meant to be Yorkshire, but I'm well aware that's it's not perfect, so any help on that would be appreciated.
The length was absolutely normal, neither too much nor too less. So good job done. Also, I really liked how the way you described somethings. All the characters(the humans or the vampires) seem to have a distinct style, voice modulation and the dressing sense, which, for me is the world's biggest creativity. The vivid descriptions just did great for me. They were also not too much nor too less.
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