Alistair watched Isabella with careful appraisal while she shed the dress and slipped into the bed. The sight of her lying before him would have quickened his heart, if it still worked. Even after gorging upon their lust in the wilds, his icy blue eyes traversed every curve of her delectable body. Her visage could enrapture him, threatening to consume his every sense. Yet, even as he disrobed to join her in profile, such urges were swept aside for now. He sat next to her, softly holding her gaze as he addressed her concerns. “Feeding on one of our own is a different experience than our prey,” he explained. “You will not be driven by hunger, and as my blood is ancient and powerful, you needn’t much to be as one with my memories. You run a greater risk of losing yourself in the depths of my past than you do in harming me. As such, for now I will show you only that which is most significant: How my mortal life came to an end, and I came to be born unto this one.”
He smiled softly as she renounced her concerns and spoke of her trust in him. Such trust was not something Alistair was accustomed to. Indeed, his existence was built upon thrones of pretense. Being what he was, deception often meant survival; even among their own kind. Yet that was part of the allure that inspired him to accept Isabella as his progeny. She was an enigma, and he genuinely looked forward to seeing how she would blossom. Her tenacity proved stout as ever as she pulled herself into his lap. There was still a touch of nervousness, but Alistair watched her lovingly. He drew back a strand of raven hair from her face and abided her request. “There is nothing to fear, my sweet Bella,” he promised her, “Never so long as I am with you.”
After his words of encouragement he nodded to her as she prepared to take the plunge. There was scarcely a reaction as her beautiful, ivory fangs pierced his flesh and sank in. His eyes merely drifted closed, his arms holding her tight as she drank. The world seemed to melt around them as his blood; the closest thing he had to a soul, intermingled with hers. They were as one entity, his thoughts seeping into her own as she was wracked with a series of feelings and sensations. In a flash, she would have caught mere glimpses of his very long life; like a hazy dream one couldn’t quite grasp at anymore. But as Alistair focused on one particular aspect of his past, the flood of thoughts dissipated and formed into one clear, solid memory. Isabella would find it hard to say if she was simply viewing the moment or actually living it as things came into clarity.
~
Warmth filled Alistair’s normally icy skin as he raised a bronze hand, blocking out the powerful rays of a fiercely bright sun. Of course, he was not Alistair back then; nor was he Athan or Qadir nor any of other many names he’d earned over the generations. A young, unproven man of his tribe, he’d not yet earned the mantle of a true name. Until the elders granted him that honor, the others referred to him by appearance, as it was with all the nameless. There was no language that could describe the gruff series of sounds the tribe spoke in, but from Alistair’s own memories Isabella knew the meaning behind them. Blue Eyes, they called him. It was a crude yet accurate title, and no less odd than the four others who stood beside him.
Two of their hunting party had earned their names many seasons ago: Eight Fingers on account of his missing two digits on the left hand, and Giant Slayer, for his great feat in hunting a mighty cave bear when he was still but a boy. They were two of the most experienced and successful hunters of the tribe, and with any luck, Blue Eyes and the other unproven would earn their names under their guidance. They’d been out on the hunt two full days now, tracking the herd of mammoths that promised to feed their people for some time. Their efforts had finally paid off as, from the crest of their hill, they spied the great, lumbering beasts grazing in the valley below. Giant Slayer signaled for the men to stay low, calculating a strategy as they held their spears at the ready. They had to be cautious here. Even one of the mighty brutes could easily dispatch their group, let alone a stampede of them.
Eight Fingers pointed out a potential target some what isolated from the group. It was a smaller mammoth, but still big enough to feast on for a fortnight; and a smaller stature meant an easier kill. After a quick breakdown of the plan, their party split in two. Blue Eyes followed behind Eight Fingers as they crept off to the left, while the other two fledglings broke right with Giant Slayer. They silently edged through the tall stalks of golden, summer grass, keeping downwind and staying deathly alert as they ventured down into the valley. In the distance, Blue Eyes could just barely make out the other three. Keeping low in the grass, their presence was only betrayed by the slightest rustle of movement.
All seemed to be going smoothly, their prey calm and none the wiser to their presence. Blue Eyes’ heart raced the closer they came. Excitement bubbled across his nerves as he planted every step with utmost care. He maintained absolute silence, the suspense growing as they were nearly within striking distance. They were only a few yards away now; so close he could hear the beast’s breath. Eight Fingers gave the motion to halt, which Blue Eyes immediately obeyed. His hands were shaking, palms damp as he clutched his spear and locked his gaze on the creature. The others shuffled into place across from them, becoming night invisible as they hunkered down in wait.
Then, just as they were on the verge of attacking, the atmosphere changed. Their prey snorted in alarm, trunk flailing as it began to stamp around. A trumpet of alarm was quick to follow, spreading through the herd until every member was aware of incurring danger. The hunters had no clue as to what gave them away, but they didn’t have time to debate or lament it. Uttering a shout, the two groups burst out of hiding and charged as the massive beast even as it turned to flee. The distance was far too great to catch up with it now, leaving Giant Slayer and the others to hurl their spears in desperation. All three fell short of their mark.
Blue Eyes rushed in for his attempt, only to find Eight Fingers reaching out to stop him. Startled, he looked back to the old hunter with a look of confusion. Eight Finger’s attention was cast elsewhere, leaving him to follow the man’s gaze and spot what had actually caused the mammoths to flee. They were the only ones hunting here this morning; a pack of four fanged tigers had emerged from the brush. They thrust towards the herd in a tight formation, but quickly changed tact off as they caught sight of the unarmed men who’d lumbered out into their path. While the bulk of the pack went for Giant Slayer and the others, one broke off upon noticing them.
Weapons in hand, the two men stood their ground as the beast approached. The huge cat was nearly upon them, but threatening shouts and jabbing spears kept it at bay. Their opponent hissed and roared, massive paws swiping back as their weapons drew nearer. It was a precarious dance that lasted several tense moments. The foe was far too swift for their weapons, dodging every thrust with relative ease. Working closer together, they continued to push the tiger back, denying it any chance to strike. Yet the beast was persistent, displaying no fear as it continued to slash at the stabbing objects. In his desperation, Blue Eyes took a mighty lunge in an effort to end their would-be killer. The tip of his spear just barely managed to score the creature’s side, leaving a small, bloody gash that left it seething in anger and pain. The blow cost him, however, slowing him down and leaving him vulnerable.
In a flash, the beast wheeled about and lashed at him. He tried to pull his weapon up in defense, but was too slow. One humongous paw came swiping down, striking the shaft in the middle and rendering his spear in two. Blue Eyes stumbled backwards from the force of the blow, and it was all the opportunity the tiger needed to fall upon him. There was scarcely anytime to react as the creature sprang at him. Razor sharp claws raked across his chest in an explosion of pain, gouging him deep and dropping him to the ground. In a bid for survival he clutched at the monster’s throat trying to keep away from those snapping jaws as it stood over him. He knew it was a vain effort; that he would die here and now. Any second those massive tusks would sink in, and he would be powerless to stop it.
Then, roaring and hissing, the tiger leaped away with a sudden urgency. His head snapped around to see Eight Fingers had come rushing forward with spear in hand. The beast narrowly dodged his strike, but the hunter gave it no quarter. Eight Fingers bravely put himself between the tiger and the downed Blue Eyes lashing and shouting and doing whatever he could to make the beast run off. On his own, it was a futile effort. With his weapon destroyed, Blue Eyes searched for whatever weapon he could find. The only viable option was a large stone his hand brushed against. Without a second thought, he snatched up the bludgeon and pushed back to his feet just in time to hear the scream.
Whipping around, he saw Eight Fingers go down, a golden bulk of fur and muscle pinning him to the ground. Shouts of pain echoed across the valley as the tiger’s jaws came snapping down. Blue Eyes didn’t hesitate; stone in hand, he burst forward. Taking the rock in both hands, he lifted high above his head, and with a fierce battle cry, brought it crashing down upon the vicious beast. His attack connected with the left side of the tiger’s face, just above its one of its crimson-tinted, ivory tusks. The fang snapped against the crushing blow, leaving a jagged stump in its place. The tiger crumpled beneath the blow, flailing off of its prey and leaving it winded across the ground. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, the young hunter sped forward and pressed his advantage. Again and again the stone came smashing down, pummeling the creature’s skull until he was absolutely certain it would not rise again.
The exertion left him on his knees by the time the deed was done, his breath coming in ragged gasps; mostly from the rush of it all. He recovered quickly though, tossing the stone beside his enemy’s corpse before rushing over to check on Eight Fingers. His breath hitched as one look was enough to tell him the man was beyond saving. A puncture in his jugular had him choking on his own blood even before Blue Eyes could reach him. One brief meeting with his wide, shocked eyes, and it was already over. In a sudden jolt of realization, he turned his attention back to the others. They hadn’t fared much better; one of the fledglings lay lifeless on the ground while Giant Slayer and the other survivor were looking bruised and bloody. Another of the cats lay dead at their feet, a spear remaining stuck within its chest. The other two were gone, evidently scared off as the members of their pack began to fall.
Now that the battle was over and the adrenaline draining away, Blue Eyes became conscious of his own wounds. The gashes caused by the tiger’s claws bled freely, igniting him with fiery pain with every motion he made. He ignored all that for now and crouched down to the dead man before him. With the tips of his fingers he closed the hunter’s fearful eyes, granting him the rest he’d earned before joining the others. Things moved quickly from there. The men saw to their wounds and their dead, granting them the rites of burial as best to their ability out here in the wilderness. Then, cleaning their kills, they gathered up the precious resources they came for and began the long trek back home…
Two nights later they were back in the village, gathered around the great bonfire that lit the night with an eerie, orange glow. The fire light cast reaching shadows of one of the elders as she stood before the flames. Her ancient voice called out to the members of their tribe, reciting the bravery of the hunters who’d ventured out, and lamenting over those who did not return. While their grief was strong, their cause for celebration had equal merit, for two of their tribe had returned as proven men of the hunt. She called the first fledgling up and told of his valor; in the way he’d moved with the swiftness of the tigers themselves in retrieving their lost weapons that they might defend themselves. For this, she donned him Fleet Foot. After the commemoration, she summoned Blue Eyes next.
He rose from his seat, fighting the urge to wince as the wounds across his chest complained beneath the bandages. He did not want to appear weak as he came forward to join the silver haired woman before the warmth of the fire. One of her paper thin hands gripped his shoulder as she cast her voice back out to the tribe, and divulged to all his stand against the beast which savaged their deceased brethren. With great admiration, she lifted the fang he’d broken in two, holding it high for all to see that it was now looped with string. Turning back to the man, she laced the ornament around his neck and proudly dubbed him ‘Tusk-Breaker’ so that all would know of his strength and bravery. Raucous cheers sounded throughout the camp as he received the honor of a true name.
A hearty number of pats on the back belabored him on the way back to his seat, teasing his injuries. He remained all smiles despite the annoyance of pain, feeling just as celebratory as the rest as they feasted on the flesh of the beasts they’d slain. Tusk-Breaker weighed his new name as he found his seat. He found it quite fitting; heavy and powerful, he thought, as he twirled the broken fang between his callused fingers. Eventually a young, raven haired woman with a doe eyes and a sweet smile came over to him. Speaking his praise and her admiration, she offered him a large slice of meat carved from his own kill. Tusk-Breaker grinned up at her, accepting the offer with his gratitude. She shyly backed away after, though he caught her glancing back several times from her place across the fire. After one bite of his meal, he decided that nothing in this world could possibly rival the taste of such a victory.
The night wore on, and still the jubilation refused to taper off. The people sang their sorrow for their two lost souls, but also their joy. This was as much to honor their lives as it was to celebrate a successful hunt and the naming of those responsible. After a time however, Tusk-Breaker needed time away from the festivities. The rambunctious crowd grew to be a little much when he was both weary and wounded, and so he found himself venturing away from the warmth of safety of the fire. He kept wandering, until the cluster of tents appeared but a speck of orange in the distance; the voices of his tribe a dull murmur. Only now did he feel as though he could finally breathe; out here alone beneath the canopy of stars. He gazed up longingly at the diamond sky, trying to clear to clear his mind of all that had happened the last few days.
A sound in the night snatched his attention, causing him to shift around and peer into the darkness. Everything was deathly quiet, making him wonder if he’d truly heard anything at all. Try as he could, he could perceive nothing in the murky obscurity, and yet there was a cold tingle down his spine; a prickle across his skin. In the end he brushed it off as a figment of imagination and decided to start heading back. He turned back towards home and froze as he saw a blur of movement in the night. Whatever it was moved faster than the wind, instilling him with fear as he heard rustling all around. Before he could figure out its source, there was an eruption of pain as something collided with the back of his head. The next thing he knew, the world was spinning and the ground rushed up to meet him. His vision went black even before it found him.
Tusk-Breaker’s eyes slowly fluttered open, his vision blurry as his head was swimming. He groaned as he came to, trying to make sense of what happened. The first thing he realized was that he’d been stripped of all his furs with both his hands and feet were bound to a great stone slab. Panic welled up inside as he struggled against the restraints but to no avail. Foiled, he examined his surroundings instead. He looked to be in a large cave lit by a single torch. When he heard a deep, rumbling growl, he strained his head and see across the room. There sat two huge sabre cats, each boring into him with their predatory gaze. Between them sat a naked woman, her face hidden beneath flowing black hair. Her skin was several shades darker than his own, yet it contained a sort of pale, ghostly hue.
When the woman noticed he’d roused, her lips curved into a sinister smile. She rose from her position on the floor, revealing her slender profile to him in full. The beasts stood along with her, threatening grumbles emanating from their throats as she strode towards her prisoner. Tusk-Breaker found himself enraptured by the stranger, unable to look away even as she came dangerously close. Her catch shivered as she leaned in near his face; he could feel how very ancient and powerful she was. He’d never felt so insignificant in his life as he did in that moment. And then she spoke in a beautifully cold voice. Her words were strange, not he’d long since come to understand them.
“There is no grief so strong as that of a mother’s,” she seethed. He noticed she was clutching something in her hand then. She caught where he was glancing and relaxed her hand, allowing him to see. It took him a moment to realize it was the fang necklace bestowed upon him by the Elder. His brow furrowed as confusion seeped in, and it only grew as the mysterious woman climbed upon the slab and straddled his lap. Her skin was icy cold to the touch; like death itself. Pale green eyes watched him like he was some plaything as she rose the broken tooth and brought it down near his throat. His heart was racing as he felt the ivory tusk glide across his skin. She was ever so careful not the cut him, but the sharp point kept him on edge as it ventured down, stopping just before the claw marks carved into his chest.
The woman looked at his wounds, almost seeming to admire them. “At least my child did not go down without a fight,” she spoke, confounding him all the further. She set the necklace aside and teased across his injuries with her bare fingers instead. He sucked in a sharp breath, then uttered a groan as she pressed into wound, drawing fresh blood. Curious, she brought the tip of her finger to her lips, where her tongue snaked out to taste his precious life fluid. She moaned in delight to moment it touched, her face cracking into a wide grin. Tusk-Breaker stared at her in wonder as her pair of long, sharp canines were revealed; fangs just like the great cats she lived with.
Once again he struggled to free himself as the strange woman lowered herself, bringing her lips within inches of his. His eyes were wide and fearful, watching her every move as she diverted course towards his ear instead. In a hissing whisper, she spoke one final time: “You have taken my son away from me,” she declared, “Now you shall take his place.” He was left to ponder her strange tongue for but an instant before she struck. Piercing fangs drove their way into his neck, puncturing a vein. His shouts echoed across the stone walls, but they were drowned out as the rest of her children roared with excitement. He fought as hard as he could, but as the monster drained him his strength began to flee. Before he knew it, he was fading once more into darkness.
~
Alistair chose that moment to end the connection, forcefully pulling away from Bella with a soft grunt as he fangs tore out of him. A wave of fatigue washed over him from the exacted toll, but it was little to concern himself over. Even now, the puncture wounds she’d left were steadily recovering; flesh mending and growing to seal the wound far quicker than any mortal could hope for. He gave his bride adequate time to come back to reality, her senses no doubt tangled between the memory she just lived and the living world she was abruptly returned to. He watched her as she came to, noting the crimson tears rolling down her cheeks. He reached up to gingerly brush one away. “And now you know the beginning of my story,” he told her, wearing a soft smile. “You shall come to know the rest in time, and with it, learn all that of which we are truly capable.”
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