Asher watched her go.  He laid back against the tree, a serene landscape before him, and for a moment he could almost pretend he'd died and gone to heaven.  Sleep came too easily.  His dreams were always the same.  Always running, always a repeat of that day, years and years in the past.  Always in the same forest, dense and dark, chased by same faceless creatures he knew would surely kill him.  Only this time it was different.<br/><br/>He was thirsty- it was a thirst like no other, grasping at his throat and squeezing tightly, nearly suffocating him.  He would do anything to make it go away.  He could smell it, though, just in front of him, a fountain gushing endlessly with what he needed.  All he had to do was open it and drink.<br/><br/>It was making noises, loud and piercing, but he didn't care.  He had little room to.  The need to drink was at the forefront of his mind, overpowering any curiosity he might have had for the thing.  There was nothing more important.  He mowed down anything in his way, demolishing fallen trunks and shredding through foliage for his prize.  He took it to the ground and wasted no time indulging, the ringing in his ears dulling as he was filled with the sweet wine.<br/><br/>His senses gave way to a pathetic sobbing.  Asher paused and decided to look at his prey, and trembled at the sight.  It was Seraphina, drenched in her own blood.  He reeled back.<br/><br/>Asher woke suddenly, his heart in a panic.  It turned cold and seemed to quiver, and he rolled and clutched at his chest in agony.  His breath hitched and he gasped for air, and for a moment he was convinced someone had poisoned him.  Suddenly, he doubled over on his knees and with a harrowing lurch of his gut, an alarming volume of blood was expelled into the grass.<br/><br/>He paused, clutching at his throat.  He could still taste it in his mouth, an awful and thick metallic mixture.  He stayed there until his lungs settled, at a loss for what to make of it.  The only question in his mind now was “What is happening to me?”<br/><br/>Unfortunately, things had a certain way of sticking it to his needs.  He could hear something approaching, something big by the sounds of it.  He sprang to his feet and stumbled after his bundle near the lake.  He hastily fitted the shirt and vest over it, pulling the hood over his head and then grabbing his bow and quiver.  Whatever it was, he didn't want to be found by it.  Asher strapped the quiver around his waist and the bow over his torso, forcing himself into an agile retreat into the treetops.  Stealth had long been a strength of his, when he wasn't injured, anyway.  His leg still protested the strenuous movement, but he knew how to bite down.  He found a spot fairly high up, surrounded by numerous bramble.  It was an excellent cover, so long as he could remain still.<br/><br/>The thing still approached, and now, Asher was able to identify what it was.  Or rather, what<span style="font-style: italic">they</span>were.<br/><br/>There were numerous men and women making rounds about the woods.  Their pace suggested urgency.  A man near the front paused and signaled to the rest of them, who immediately laid low and took cover in the foliage.  The woods were so quiet you could hear a feather drop.  Then, a single movement drew their attention, and the man signaled the team again.  Asher recognised the signal with alarm.  They were Clansmen, and he hadn't recognised them at first due to their… odd choice of attire.  Instead of their normal light armour, they were wearing simple linens.  They allowed much lighter and muffled movements, but it wouldn't stop them from being torn apart.  What were they doing?<br/><br/>He noticed the shields they carried, and their function had him puzzled.  Their surface was almost mirror-like.  It was too reflective, and would easily give away their position in a fight.  They had them faced toward the ground, however, so what exactly was the point?<br/><br/>Someone else was coming, but they were much more careful about their movements.  In fact, he couldn't hear a step they took, but he noticed the movement from afar, watching the scouts watch him.  It was Jax.  He wanted to shout at him to turn around, but he wouldn't dare move- Asher was in just as much danger from them as any vampire in these woods.  He couldn't stop looking at those shields, though.  They were no good for camouflage- nobody was stupid enough to be fooled by something like that.  If they so much as flashed in the sun, it was like a beacon.<br/><br/>Asher froze.  The sun.  He peered up, and though he was shielded by the thick boughs around him, he could see it was nearing high noon.  The need to warn Jax became even more urgent, but his muscles wouldn't budge.  He remained glued to the trunk, his eye transfixed on the scene below.