Chapter 3: The Hunger Games

"Katniss. I already know you're good with a knife," says Haymitch.
"Not really. But I can hunt," I say. "With a bow and arrow."
"And you're good?" asks Haymitch. I have to think about it. I've been putting food on the table for four years. That's no small task. I'm not as good as my father was, but he'd had more practice. I've better aim than Gale, but I've had more practice. He's a genius with traps and snares. "I'm all right," I say.
"She's excellent," says Peeta. "My father buys her squirrel. He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits every one in the eye."

There was one plus side to the entire countryside being wiped out by demons, Trevor thought, driving their covered wagon down the country road: tons of free shit. Most of the time when the night hoards were seen in the area, you were either smart enough to leave or dumb enough to stay. Judging from the condition of the barn they stumbled on, the owners had been smart enough to leave, as the state of decay was only minimal due to neglect.

"This seems like a decent enough place to rest for the night. At least the roof keeps the place somewhat dry." The horses they had purchased were nearly skin and bones, but it was all they could afford and they got the job done well enough. He would have to bale some hay that wasn't covered with mold later for them to eat later down the road.

"Shouldn't we wait until Alucard comes back with news from his scouting mission?" Sypha asked him. "What if there's a town nearby?"

"Absolutely not. Even if there is a town nearby, there's no guarantee that we'll reach them before dark or that we'll be provided shelter. Plus, the horses need rest. They've been running on almost less food than us."

Rummaging through their food stores, Trevor found the measly leftover dried goat and hardtack from Gresit, but their provisions were starting to run low. Lately, all they had been doing was eating once a day and gathering excess stores of water by melting the nearby snow that remained white in color. You could go weeks without food, but three days without water and you were done for.

"Sypha, you stay with the wagon and start a fire. I'll go and see if I can round us up some dinner. I think I have some flint stashed away somewhere..." Trevor started feeling around in his pockets when a small hiss of brought his attention to the speaker's fingertip, which was currently balancing a bright ball of fire. "...or you could do that."

Sypha gave him a parting smirk as Trevor snatched a small bowl and the last ration of hardtack and stuffed it into one of the satchels hooked onto his belt before venturing out into the woods. Of course, Dracula decided to unleash his curse upon Wallachia right in the middle of winter, the one time of the year where food was the most scarce, so Trevor would not only be competing with the night hoards, but the natural predators as well. Wolves commonly hunted near twilight and were particularly aggressive when game was scarce, and boars were almost as smart if not as deadly -Trevor had learned from his uncle that startled boars often left fatal wounds if you were the unlucky bastard to get gored by one that charged your way- so he decided setting up a perch in a nearby tree wasn't a half bad idea. Normally, he would have been concerned with whether any bears or lynxes would be roaming the territory, since they would most likely give him the most trouble, but gratefully most bears were in hibernation or were going to be, and lynxes hunt more during the day during the winter. Trevor's cautious nature still never wavered.

Crumbling up some of the hardtack he had left, Trevor sprinkled the crumbs over a large area on the ground in front of him before scampering up a tree a good couple of paces away. It was a small trail of breadcrumbs, but hopefully it would lead him to attract a few furry, woodland creatures. Perhaps if he was lucky enough, he could attract a small deer or a wild piglet. It was unfortunate that he hardly had the tools to kill them. He had broken his short sword in a duel with Alucard and had yet to getting around to replacing it, so he had to hope that his consecrated whip, a rusty pitchfork, and a handful of throwing knives would be enough.

Rustling through the underbrush, a juvenile boar charged forward in an almost chaotic, serpentine fashion, fleeing from the predator that silently stalked it. Before it knew what had happened, a long-sword swiftly stuck it through the belly and quieted the shrill, frantic squeal that slowly died in its throat. After effortlessly lifting it up and giving it a half-disgusted sniff, Alucard lowered his lips to where the pig had been impaled and drank. Crimson liquid poured down his throat, quieting his barbaric hunger that hung around him like a dark cloud that never fully passed, while he thought back to a few moments earlier.

It shouldn't have bothered him. Due to his human half, the smell of blood didn't drive him half as mad as others of his kind, the full-blooded vampires, but it was that very scent that caused him to bolt in the end. It had taken him by surprise, as did the strangely dressed woman that tried to charge into him.

Vampires were unable to be attracted to the blood of corpses -something about the blood having to be fresh was ingrained into their very nature- which was what the city of Gresit had been tainted with, so it had been a long while since Alucard had smelled fresh human blood, especially when he did not have access to nearby blood stores. Even the year's worth of blood he had used to sustain himself while he healed from the wounds dealt by his father was animal blood; in retrospect, it was probably why it took him so long to heal.

It wasn't until Alucard was moving across the countryside with his companions that he understood the enormity of what his father, Dracula, had done. Humans were not only being slaughtered, they were being starved out. For miles outside of the heavily decimated cities and villages, trails of forests either burned down or free of animals were all that remained. All of nature had been thrown off its axis because of his father's bloody crusade. Thanks to his father's violent vendetta, there was hardly been anything left in the forest to eat, save for a few birds or abandoned livestock, so his blood and food stores were fairly low, and this posed a problem to Alucard. He could survive on one without the other, but never both.

His fangs released from the pig's hide and he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief he had tucked away before placing it back into his overcoat, satisfied with the fact that he had a meal for his traveling companions and wouldn't have to drain out all of the blood before hand. He hauled it over his shoulder before his supernatural hearing picked up a nearby argument.

"...can't believe we're still clearing out this forest," complained one figure with a sharp and shrill squawk. His companion was the opposite, his voice deep, low, and gravelly.

"Master was very clear. Kill everything."

Alucard moved closer, picking up the scent of bird and dog that reeked of pestilence and human blood. Andras and his Warg wolf. Had he fed earlier, he would have smelled him coming. The whole forest reeked of his Warg army among other things.

"We could have been done four months ago, but he didn't specify what to destroy, so now we have to hunt down ever single damned rabbit in these stupid woods, at night, when they don't even come out." The bird figure sighed and urged his steed forward. "Just keep sniffing. We're sure to find something to report back with. Then we can go after the human village."

Alucard's brow furrowed at the mental images of what would happen after Andras sunk his talons into the local village and stepped out of his hiding place.

"Master Adrian!" the crow demon addressed him promptly, dismounting from his Warg. "You are looking well." Alucard kept up his cold, impassive presence as the Marquis of Hell chattered on. "Your father has been looking for you."

"I imagine that he has," Alucard replied cryptically. Probably to make sure that he stayed out of the way of interfering with his bloody crusade or changed his mind about joining it.

"I smell humans nearby," then he extended out a gaunt, skeletal talon. "Would you like to assist us in purging them?"

"No."

"Care to take them on your own then? Very well. Your father always did say you were skilled with a sword." Andras was about to mount his Warg again when Alucard stood to block his path.

"No further."

"What is the meaning of this?!" Andras exclaimed, his worn and dull black feathers ruffled.

"Leave. Leave this village, and I shall spare your lives." Alucard declared and the two demons shared a confused look. "That's an order."

"We only obey Master Dracula."

"I am Dracula, and you will take my command to stand aside or I shall take your disobedience as treason and kill you where you stand," Alucard ordered, his command stern and slightly harsher than before, and drew his long sword. Andras appeared conflicted about disobeying orders, unsure of which Dracula's wrath he feared more. However, his dumber counterpart remained oblivious to the situation at hand, at exactly who he was addressing and the difference in power and strength he held against them, and was therefore not intimidated in the slightest.

"Not Dracula. I smell human in you. We not obey humans. We eat them," the Warg growled at him before chuckling, showing his bright, blue fangs that glowed in the moonlight. "Halfing bastard."

With a flick of a wrist, the armored Warg's head slid bloodily to the ground, as if it had just fallen off by itself like a leaf from a tree branch before the body followed suit and slid to the ground. Andras frantically unsheathed his hellfire sword, summoning a bright fireball on the tip before bringing it down in one fell swoop. An afterimage of the dhampir was all that remained before reappearing behind the demon with a sword extended forward, piercing Andras's chest before slicing through him in two.

"Hrgh! Master... Adrian... why!?" were the dying words of the betrayed marquis before life faded from his eyes. Alucard gave the demon one hard, contemplative look before wiping the blood off of his sword with the handkerchief from his overcoat.

Trevor's eyes followed the slim streaks of snow right until he noticed a twitch in the underbrush. A small hare. He quieted his breathe, trying to slow his heart rate down so that he was in-sync with his prey right up until the last moment. Slowly, he lifted a throwing knife out of its holster and aimed before launching it straight through the air, landing dead center in the back of the rabbit's head. The rabbit let out a terrified shriek as it thrashed in the snow, flailing madly when Trevor dropped down from the tree to finish the job.

After about an hour and a half of sitting on a tree branch, all Trevor had to show for it were two squirrels and a rabbit, the former that which were pinned to a nearby spruce tree -it would have been three had he not missed the last shot due to the numbness in his hands- hardly a king's feast, let alone enough for two people.

Three people, Trevor had to remind himself. Last thing he wanted to be dealing with was Dracula's spawn turning on them because he didn't have his daily blood intake. He could at least gather the bloodied snow.

He could almost hear his father's voice in his head. Sloppy work, Trevor. You need to aim right between the eyes, and now that creature's going to suffer because of you and ruin the meat. If it had been a monster, it would have killed you where you stand. The weapons and skills he had utilized in order to survive everyday were all he had left of his family. Every knife throw, every whip crack, were echoes of his family's memory.

"What would they think of me now, gathering blood to feed a fucking vampire?" Trevor mused aloud with a humorless 'hmph.' He pulled out the knife that impaled in the back of the rabbit's side and used it to swiftly slice it across the neck before pinning it next to his collection of squirrels to dangle and drip until they were all drained dry of blood. Then, after he was sure they were all dry, the Belmont threw them into an old sack and started walking back towards camp.

Consumed by hunger, Trevor thought eagerly about his plans for his kill. After skinning them for meat, he would try and sell the furs at the next town, maybe have enough money for a room and a decent mug of ale. Sypha would probably complain about eating squirrels, so she would get most of the rabbit. Aside from the fact that she was a woman, she was scrawny as well. She had to be younger than him by a couple of years, barely older than a child. She would need her strength, if maybe to keep the evenings quiet of her constant complaints of hunger and taking shots at his dress and mannerisms. It seemed to be the only time she wouldn't talk would be when she was eating.

"Something smells good..." Trevor's stomach growled in pleasure at the familiar smell of pork and bacon, catching a whiff of it kindled with the smell of smoke and embers. He was envious of whatever nearby traveler or household that managed to get their hands on such a bounty. It wasn't until realized that the smell had come from his own campsite and saw who was gathered around it, stoking the pig with a tree branch cleaned of its leaves, that he quickly lost his appetite and dumped the bowl of innards and blood onto a nearby tree.

"Trevor, you're back," Sypha exclaimed with joy shining in her eyes. "Look at what Adrian has brought us."

The comment about hunting every single rabbit was a joke my roommate and I had while back when debating on what the night hoards would be hunting, and since some of the demons were somewhat sentient enough to form coherent sentences, it made sense that they could actually have this conversation. By the way, for you Castlevania fans, yes, I know Andras appears only in Portrait of Ruin, but if the anime is going to say "screw it" to the rules of which demons it uses from which games, ones that aren't in Castlevania III: Dracula's Curse, then damn it, so can I!