Jorick warred with darkness. He slipped in and out, and it was only after some sleep that he woke with enough strength to stand. The others were gone. A gory trail said they'd been dragged away, no doubt taken to be healed with blood.

Blood.

The need for it consumed him, even as he tried to push it away. Rest had healed some of his wounds, and stopped the bleeding of others, but he was still weak. He needed to feed, to find Malick, to try again.

No. Not now. ...