He could see the edge of the woods. The shadows loomed just out of reach of the white mist that drifted across the swamp that morning. It lifted his heart and spirit from the panic and despair that was threatening on the edge of his consciousness. He urged his mount carefully along the ground, watching to make sure he kept a sure footing.

It was with a sigh that he put his foot on the firm grasses at the edge of the giant trees. He looked up at the size of the colossal woods with awe. Kracken shied a little in the shade of the massive trunks. Vincent did not take notice of the perked up ears or nervously flicking eyes as he heard the sound of water in the near distance.

He surges towards the sound, along the edge of the trees until he can just see the rushing water through the breaks between them. Fresh water was a gods-send to him, as his canister was empty and his throat parched from the dry rations that he had been eating. He moved into the wood with his eyes on the glistening clear water.

A low growl from the left catches his attention too late and he turns his head in just enough time to see a massive furred body and razor-sharp teeth. He shouts out, reaching for his sword. The horse rears and he lets go of the reins that he might protect him from the beast.

"Run Kracken!" He hollers as the thing jumps at him. Vincent is thrown to the ground and the breath is knocked out of him in an instant. His thirst is forgotten in the struggle to stay alive. The beast claws at him and snaps its teeth in his face as he holds it back with all his might. He kicks up at it in an attempt to dislodge it from on top of him.

A loud whinny sounds and the thump of hooves as his horse charges the beast and slams against him. Vincent rolls to avoid the tangle of hooves and claws as the animals face one another. His heart hammers in his chest as his beautiful steed takes a slash across the chest while he pulls his sword.

The beast jumps on Kracken and sinks his teeth in, the horse screaming in pain and thrashing like a wild thing. Vincent leaps forward to slash at it's back with his sword and it snarls in frustration. He tries stabbing it through its thick hide as it twists its large head about to look back at him. Its eyes are angry and teeth red with blood.

Vincent gulps as it turns from the dying horse to size up the thing bothering it. He raises his sword threateningly and it roars at him. His hand shakes as he holds his ground. It lunges forward so quickly, that if Vincent had not chosen that moment to swing his arms threateningly, he would have been dead.

As it was, the beast's teeth sunk into his shoulder as the sword cut a deep channel into the soft underbelly of the beast. Its hot blood and guts spilled out over him as the weight of it threw him back to the ground. It let go of his shoulder as it howled painfully loud into his ear. He pushed it off him with all his might and it lay on the ground writhing.

He backed away, pulse hammering in his ears as the thing slowly became still. He dared not move for some minutes after, afraid it would rise again to snap at him one last time. There was nothing. It was dead. He rose to his feet, shaking like a leaf in the wind. He kicked the dead thing once to be sure. It did not stir.

Then he went to his horse, Kracken. The stupid, brave beast had saved his life. He laid on the cold ground, staring up at Vincent in pain. The slices were deep. The horse was bleeding out and there was nothing he could do about it. He simply hauled the horse's head into his lap and spoke gently to him.

He told him that he was the bravest horse he had the privilege of knowing. He spoke of lush fields of grass and a life of grazing for the rest of his days. He hugged the animal to his chest and watched him still. When the eyes ceased to flutter and the deep shuddering breaths came no more, he cried for him.

There was nothing to be done, but to take care of himself now. As the heat of the battle was long gone, the aches and pain of his injuries came crashing down. He gathered what little he could manage to carry and headed for the crystal waters of the wood. It was so much further than he thought is was, or he was infinitely more tired.

Collapsing in a heap at the edge of the waterfall pool, he dipped his canister into the clear water and filled it with one hand. The cool beverage was like honey on his tongue and he drank as much as he could manage. He poured the rest over the wound on his shoulder and cringed at the sharp pain.

It did not look good. It was still leaking dark blood onto his tunic. He took his belt off, used some of his spare clothes as a bandage and clinched it tight to try and stem the flow of blood. It was all he could accomplish with one arm. He looked about the pool and spied a rather secluded spot under a rock outcropping that would protect him from eyes and weather.

He crawled under and waited... and hoped.