I leapt to my feet and moved away.  I was startled.  I was afraid.  It was a different person yet somehow his voice still reminded me of my assailant's.  Maybe it was something in the tone, something in the way that his accent tinged his words.  I felt suspicious terror that another stranger had found me in these woods.  It was too much to be a coincidence.  I would have guessed he was related to the first man, even if my instincts had not been screaming the truth at me.  I made my voice hard to hide my fear and I continued to edge away from him.  "No, I'm fine."

"Are you lost?"  His voice was flat and unemotional.

"No."  There was no way I was going to admit any weakness to this stranger.

He was quiet for a minute; then spoke almost carelessly, "I'll lead you out.  Why are you out here in the woods?"

"I was attacked by some weird creep," I said harshly, trying to sound tough.  I tried to convey the idea that I would not put up with any more of the same.  That I had easily survived.  That I was ready to fight.

He was quiet for a long moment and then asked in a voice which sounded as if he were finally interested, "Who was it?"

I was irritated and afraid and upset all at once.  I wanted to be at home.  I wanted a locked door between me and these strange people and an uncertain world.  I did not want this new threat to know how shook up I was.  I did not want to be interrogated by insensitive strangers.  What business was it of his?  Pure sarcasm came to my rescue, "Funny, he didn't seem inclined to share any personal information with me.  I wonder why?"

He ignored my snarky response.  "What did he look like?"

"How the hell would I know?  It was dark.  I forgot to put on my night vision goggles."  I took a deep breath and added, "I'm tired.  I'm leaving."

I started to march away.

"You're going deeper into the trees," he pointed out calmly.

I swore under my breath and turned to make a wide circle to circumvent his position.  I could hear him following me.  I tried to be silent, but it was nearly impossible.  I had almost no vision and the leaves under my feet were dry enough to crunch with each step in spite of my best efforts.  I was tired of scary strangers following me.  He did not seem to want to attack me, but I was not so much of a fool to trust him, either.

I turned my head in the direction I heard him walking and said, "So, who are you?"  It would be all the better to have more information to tell the police when I called them.

"No one important," he said; his voice was very flat.

"That's not an answer," I responded, my voice shaking.  I was definitely distraught when I needed to be calm and in control.

He sighed as if I were some sort of troublesome pest.  As if any of this were my fault.  "I'm called Paul."

"Paul?" I repeated, hearing the name an echo in my abductor's voice.

"It's not so uncommon," he said.

I was stunned although perhaps I should not have been.  He said the name was not so uncommon but it was still too much to be coincidence.  "The guy who attacked me told me to give his regards to someone.  Someone with the same name as you."

"How odd," he said dryly.  "What did he do to you?"

I really did not know what to make of my insensitive companion, but I found myself answering, "He bit me, I think..."

"He bit you.  Did he do anything else?"

"I think he drank some of my blood."  I felt angry at my unknown assailant and perhaps also at my current insensitive questioner.  I much preferred the anger to fear, so I allowed it to burn and grow.

"Drank your blood?  But, let me ask you, did he put any of his blood into you?  Even a small amount?"

I remembered him rubbing something warm and sticky on my neck.  I had thought it was my blood he was rubbing on me, but could it have been his blood instead?  "Maybe."

My skin crawled as I thought about this new revelation.  It had not occurred to me that might have been what he had been doing and I felt more violated than I had before when I had assumed he had been simply torturing me.

Thankfully, light came into view.  I surged ahead, thrilled at the sight.  I rushed forward.  My foot caught on an above-ground root and I fell forward, sprawling in the damp leaves.  I had used my hands and knees to stop my fall and they all hurt to varying degrees.  I had protected my face, but my eye and my neck still hurt and those were only my physical ills.

"Here," Paul said and he reached out and helped me up by my arm.  "Are you quite alright?"

"I'm fine," I lied.  My condition was none of his concern.

He did not comment, but started walking with his hand still on my arm.  Soon enough we were out of the trees and I was back on the path.  I had never been so happy to see a poorly maintained path in my life.  I was on my way to see the wizard at last. 

Instead of running as I should have, I looked back at Paul by the lights of the path.  He was taller than me with a solid frame and dark hair.  I could not make out much else.

"Which way is your home?" he asked after a considerable pause.

There was no way I was leading this Paul the stalker to my door.  "It's fine.  I can make it home on my own."

His voice sounded hard, "It's obviously unsafe for you to be out here alone."

I glared at him, but I doubted he could see.  "I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself," he said.  I turned towards home and began walking away as quickly as I could.

"Wait," Paul called out.  In spite of my intentions, I paused and listened.

"I didn't know if I should tell you this, but it seems unfair not to.  Yet I am not certain that you would want to know."

I could not help myself.  I blame my father.  "What is it?"

"You're going to die."

"Is that a threat?" I asked; my voice stuck in my throat.

"No.  What he did to you tonight will kill you."  Paul's tone was so dispassionate I could not register what it was he was talking about.  It was not natural, being so calm when talking about the death of someone.  How could he be so callous if it were true?

Then my mind finally processed that he was serious.  I did not really believe it.  "You're joking."

I saw his head shake, before he answered.  "No, I am not.  I'm sorry, but there is nothing I can do but advise you to use your last weeks in such a way that you do not experience additional regret when they end."

I felt a whole kaleidoscope of feelings rush through me, uncertain fear and hopeful disbelief.  What remained when the pieces stopped was impotent anger mixed with morbid curiosity.  I could not help but ask, "Why am I going to die?"

"I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you more, I fear," he said and his words rang false.  My anger surged at the pathetic apology.  I was going to tell him as much when he turned and began to walk back to the trees.  His dismissive actions brushed my deepest wounds.  I raged.

"If you say I'm really going to die, I want to know why!" I yelled after him.  He did not answer.  I wanted to run after him and demand answers but when I recalled the events of the evening I felt myself freeze. Before I had recovered, he had disappeared into the darkness.

I finally ran home and locked the door behind me.  I collapsed onto my bed.  Blessed as I am with the ability and drained as I felt, I fell asleep almost immediately.