Black Raven ~ Eric Northman

BLACK RAVEN

Feral light pierced Eric's eyes as he adjusted his vision to judge his surroundings. Shifting his body against the uneven floor, he winced as the cool sting of the silver chains burnt into the flesh of his wrists.

It was still dark outside, but the first glows of the morning sun had made themselves visible to his enhanced sight. A quiet sigh scratched his already-parched throat as it escaped. The birds had yet to sing their morning song and the forest, thick above him, remained oddly still. Not even the leaves would dance in the wind for they knew the event to which they would bear witness.

The chains on his ankles were heavy, the heat coming strongly through the thin layer of denim that separated skin and metal. Closing his eyes, he slowly let his chest rise and fall as the deep scent of the forest surrounded him. This was an old ground, of that he was sure. He could tell that by sight alone as the trees rose far above him, grazing the dark sky with their fingertips, swaying quietly to the song of the morning in the cool summer wind.

He only wished he could smell the Norse sea instead.

If he let himself become lucid enough, he could almost be convinced that he was at home. As a child he had spent much time becoming acquainted with his native wilderness, stalking the trees, both aspen and birch, to locate the tell tale bite marks the beavers would have left. Dusk and dawn were the best times to catch them, he had found. He would sit, back against the trees, morning frost kissing his pink, youthful skin, and watch the small, furry mammals come to life as he reflected on his daily teachings.

Something above - what was that?

"Sookie?" he whispered, craning his neck in a painful attempt to isolate the source of the sound.

After a few silent seconds, he grunted as he relaxed back into the earth. She would not come for him now, there was too much between them for that. Too much unspoken and far too much said. He'd made a habit of that recently, for someone who hardly spoke he sure seemed to say too much.

He could still taste her sometimes, like the dream you keep on having but can never remember when you wake up. How was it possible to taste like sunlight? It wasn't even about her blood any more. It could be any part of her now, anything to keep the memory alive. Maybe it was the shine of her hair, the soft glimmer of the low moonlight reflected in her golden strands. The salt in her tears, too. Curious that bitterness would be so sweet. The clean perspiration that clung to her clothes, the warmth in her body underneath the coolness of his palms, the taste of her skin against his tongue.

It could be any part of her that still clung to his soul, refusing to let go.

Like climbing ivy claiming the crumbling walls of a derelict building, or a sheet of moss crawling over the damp bark of a fallen trunk.

Wait - there it was again, that noise.

His eyes bolted open as he attempted to shift his body and afford himself a better view. He arched his back and strained his biceps, grunting with the force of the motion, but the silver could not be budged. Releasing a breath of hot air into the coolness of the morning atmosphere, he relaxed again, his muscles screaming from the use of what little energy he had left. How revoltingly human.

Eric Northman was tired. Tired and hungry.

Again!

He could hear it more clearly this time and what little hope he had was quickly dashed as he trained his eyes to focus on the source of the noise. A blackbird sat perched on small branch above, rustling the morning dew from it's deep, black feathers.