The men returned late into the night, and the women gathered to the edge of the camp immediately at the sounds of approaching burdened mules. They were loud at first chatting about chores and excited to enter the next town, but quieted immediately when they saw the men. Quiet hung over the men like a dark omen, Lady tensed as she saw the striking figure of their leader, the Count, ride his horse with his head down and his shoulders slumped. It was an uncomfortable sight to see such a powerful man brought low. She immediately searched for her father, running to him when she spotted him barely on top of his old mule, supported by his brothers.

They were simply scouting the next town and searching for a safe place to camp, this was not a dangerous journey, and they should have been safe. It was in fact a town they had visited only a year ago, a happy town that held little prejudice for the dark skinned travelers. “The town of Heinsburg is no longer safe,” stated the Count sternly, as if this was enough of an explanation. Lady ignored him as she reached for her father, stronger men helped him from his mule, careful to not tear the old man’s papery thin skin. Once on the ground, the old man collapsed in her arms, whimpering into her shoulders, “All dead! They were all dead!”

The other women heard this and immediately began demanding answers, the Count raised his hand to silence them as if they were his children and spoke “It is true. They fell to the Red Death. It seems to be following us.”

The gasp from the women must have stolen their accumulated breath, for they made no sound after that. Lady was herself too young to know much about the sickness that drove her people from their homeland, but even the youngest child had heard the tales. She ignored them as she began to half carry-half guide her father to their trailer, his old mule followed her untethered. “We must hitch up the trailers, tonight we move on,” demanded the Count from behind her. She stopped, shocked at what she heard. “We can’t, my father is drained. He can barely stand!” Lady shouted back. “Then he will be left behind,” the Count stubbornly insisted. “While we go where?” The old Dame, his wife asked. The Counts strength fled him with the question, he looked as if he was about to fall. “Further down the road…”

 “Further down the road will be more dead towns. We turn back around and head east, where we know the air is clean,” the old Dame stated, interrupting her husband.

“No, we can never go back toward Stubbe. They will kill us.” Argued another traveler. Lady nodded agreement to this, they all remembered the dark night they had been run out of the small village of Stubbe, with accusations of witchcraft. She continued as before leading her father to their small home. She knew they would be arguing for the rest of the night.  

Inside, she began to bundle the old man with blankets. He was still mumbling, he began calling her Melusine. She smiled at her mother’s name, he had begun confusing her with her late mother more often of late. She was flattered by the comparison, no matter how inaccurate it was; her mother was a courtesan before the plague forced them all onto the road. Melusine was, other than the Count, the only one of them to have been born into wealth.

Lady pulled from a small crate beside her father’s bed, a large jug of ale. Slowly, she tipped the edge to his lip, so only the tiniest of trickle would drain down his throat. He complied, obedient like a child. His meekness concerned her; was he always weak, was that why her mother chose him for her husband. She hated her own weakness, but her father’s gripped her in a different way. To her it seemed a curse on their blood, preventing them from being strong, holding them back.

“Too many dead. Too many dead, we must leave the city, before the dark things come,” He mumbled with a troubled tremor. “No father! That was a long time ago. It is time for you to forget the deaths and rest, tomorrow will be better,” She lied in a comforting voice. It was too much to expect him to be stronger in the morning. “Yes, yes tomorrow,’ he sighed as he fell into restless sleep.

She did not sleep, she sat by the window and listened, afraid the rest of the caravan would leave without word abandoning her and her father, and maybe even wishing they would.

They did not leave that night, but prepared in the morning. Lady’s father was awake early, she found him hitching up his old mule to the wagon. She did not bother to offer to help, they both new she was too weak to lift the bindings. Still she wanted to cry, she was too weak to care for him, and he would not have his strength much longer. She turned and watched the other men of the caravan, they were like-wise tethering up their beasts. She wondered if they would take care of her father if she left, and was it something she could risk.

“There you be. Go fetch ya some food, little one,” her father spoke pulling her from her thoughts, “No man’s going to want a skinny girl for his woman.”

The last comment made her smirk, he still thought her a child like any other, and she loved him for it. There was no leaving him.  

She turned and made her way to the morning stew, still warm. Feeling a new courage from her father’s presence. She never made it to the pot. Startled more by the silence then anything, she looked around and found the people of the caravan gathered to the west road. In the distance where men on horseback, and they were heading to the camp fast.

 It wasn’t uncommon for angry villagers to run them off, a few times it would get violent, but it was no real reason for concern. She still felt a sting of fear, they were not close enough to any village, at least no living village, for this kind of attack. She slowly backed her way toward her trailer and cowered.

“Peace, friends, we have nothing to offer but peace!” shouted the Count in his most dramatic voice, the villagers came to a stop. Lady let out a sigh, the Count was going to fix everything like he’s always done. She turned back to the breakfast pot, and again was stopped, this time by a scream. She turned back in time to watch the Count fall. In front of him was a man with a bloody sword, the villagers around him were attacking with scythes and pitchforks. Blood rained down on them, while women and children ran and hid, the men tried to fight back with little more than their bare hands.

Lady ran. She pulled her skirts high above her knees and ran as fast as she could. Behind her she could hear the screams of the young and old alike, she wanted to fight back, but she was too afraid. It was the next thing she heard that resolved her need for escape. “There goes their witch, help me get her,” Shouted a man’s voice not far from where she was. She looked back over her shoulder and saw two local men behind her, running faster than she could hope.

She made it to the woods, searching for help as she ran. Even the deviled dark things would be a welcomed sight. She leapt over a fallen tree, but as she landed a heavy body landed over her, pushing her to the ground. She squirmed and screamed in panic, but it did her no good. She was silenced as a heavy fist rammed into her cheek.

“Let me kill this one,” panted the other man as he caught up to them. “No,” the man above her slurred, reaching between them to pull down his pants, “Not just yet.”

Lady had been very sheltered in the caravan, she did not know what the man was trying to do, but she could feel the heat radiate from him. She could feel the heat form around them like a hot fog, she inhaled its delicate texture into her lungs, and felt… strong. He suddenly hiked up her skirt and began searching between her thighs, annoyed, she pushed herself up throwing the startled man to the ground. He tried to stand up, but she was on him, she couldn’t help herself, she was so very hungry for his heat. He was terrified, and the heat began to taper off, but there was enough. She grabbed him by the throat like he was just a doll, then she opened mouth wide as she tried desperately to suck in every last bit of heat. When there was none left, she realized somewhat giddily that she had closed her eyes as she had relished the vapor feast. Opening her eyes she found her fingers tightly wound around a long dead old man. Overwhelmed with shock, she dropped the corpse. The sound of leaves crunching under foot brought her attention back, the other man was running away, she let out a deep hiss. She was still very hungry, but she was also scared. She turned to the deep woods and ran