Entitled

Recollections

He woke up, still on the shore, feeling dehydrated and hungry; a harsh burning in the back of his throat, but he found himself able to get up and move around without any difficulties of his prior injuries. He remembered the intensity of the sun, how sensitive his sight was, his hearing was surreal, and how angry he was.

The first kill he made as a vampire was a horrifying and a euphoric moment for him. He was starving and the erratic heartbeat of the mortal strove him towards the brink of insanity, the warm of scent of life had him snap the man's neck and he ripped out his throat with is fangs, the gush of hot blood flooded his mouth, and sprayed onto his skin.

He loved it.

He was a monster.

Ethan felt dizzy for all that he was remembering, his stomach was doing swoops and as much as he still wanted to remember the majority of his past, he was afraid of knowing his true self.

Briefly, he recalled going into hiding for many years, keeping far away from humanity as possible, all the while watching it slowly change from a barbaric scenery, to a somewhat early civilized community. There were still wars, still murders, people still adjusting to getting used to other people living near them without wanting to kill them, but over time, they learned how to lean on each other for support.

Ethan didn't have that; he was different from them.

He was alone from the moment he had been changed, left to survive by himself, left to think he was nothing but a monster; he was afraid, angry, and so very lonely.

The hut he had made in the hilly mountains was his home, his sacred place to rest and hide; mortals could not travel far as it seemed, so he was safe, but that did not mean that they were safe from him.

He remembered traveling far for the first time in a long time, he had been a little intimidated to see the first set of villages being made. Their homes were nothing much, just small, wooden clay huts, enough for a small family to keep them safe from the weather, prying eyes, and place to store their things.

The first man he had met in what seemed to be years stood before him, wearing linen and hide clothes, he spoke to Ethan, which were just garbled sounds to him, and Ethan had furrowed his brow in confusion, what had been this nonsense?

The man had made his voice calming, making slow hand gestures that Ethan learned meant "follow me" and he carefully did so, he followed the older looking man to his hut, where he then saw a woman, she had been startled to see Ethan, he could only assume that he barely looked human.

They spoke between each other for a little while and Ethan stood stiff at the door.

Ethan remembered the first form of contact with a human that wasn't meant to harm, the woman's hand had been warm, there was kind expression on her face; Ethan couldn't hurt these people, not when it seemed that they were willing to help him.

They cleaned him up the best they could or to the best of their knowledge.

They gave him clothes.

They taught Ethan Primitive Welsh; he only knew that with what he had been taught in college.

Ethan learned how to be civil, he learned that the man who took him in was named Afan, he had established this small colony, he had married a young woman, who helped him, he loved her despite that she was unable to have offspring, which at the time, having heirs was more important than anything else.

They had taken Ethan in and named him Mabyn Yaxley. His first name meant son and he took his mother's surname, as his father did not have one, he had been an orphan. His mother had been named after the town in England before migrating West with her husband.