Theron Darkmoon's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

The cold in the gauntlet grew teeth. It pulled harder now, dragging at Theron's own blood, and the cave held nothing left to drink. He had killed the hunter and drained him. No living thing breathed in the stone. If he stayed, the second hunger would eat him from the inside before he ever found his maker. Theron gripped his cracked sword and climbed toward the cave mouth. He needed blood, and soon. At the rugged opening, a man crouched over a fallen deer. He was huge, broad as a door, his beard wild and tangled. A rope belt held his ragged clothes. He worked a knife into the carcass with slow, careful hands. He looked up and did not run. Most men ran from Theron. This one only tipped his head. "You hurt?" the big man said. He set the knife down. "You look near dead." Theron's teeth ached. The gauntlet strained toward the warm pulse in the stranger's thick neck. Here was blood. Here was an easy kill. The relic wanted him to take it. Theron raised the sword an inch. "Name's Grom," the man said. He stood and wiped his hands. "Got more meat than I can carry. You want some? Nobody should starve out here." He lifted the deer as if it weighed nothing and held it out. Blood dripped from the carcass. Not human blood. But blood. Theron stared at it. The gauntlet clawed at him, demanding the man's throat instead. He had a choice. Kill the good-hearted fool and feed both hungers clean. Or try the beast's blood and hope the relic would take it. Theron lowered the sword. He seized the deer, tore into the wound, and drank. The blood ran cold and thin. His own hunger eased a little. Then the gauntlet drank too. He felt it pull the blood down his arm, through the metal, into the cold hollow it had made. The teeth in his chest dulled. Not gone. But quiet. He dropped the carcass and breathed hard. Grom watched him with wide eyes, taking a slow step back at last. "You're one of them night folk," Grom said. His voice stayed steady. "Figured. You still hungry?" "No," Theron said. His arm no longer burned. "The hunger sleeps." He understood it now. The gauntlet did not need a man. It took beast blood too, if he brought it enough. That changed everything. He could feed the relic on the road and save his strength for the elder. He would not arrive drained and mad. He would arrive whole. Grom picked up his knife. "There's more deer in these hills. I hunt them most days." Theron looked at the huge, simple man who had offered meat instead of running. He needed a steady supply of blood now, and here stood someone who could bring it. "Then we walk the same road a while," Theron said.