The first thing Samuel became aware of was warmth.
Thankfully it wasn't the aggressive heat of a furnace or the suffocating closeness of a crowded room, but the gentle, crackling warmth of a wood fire. Something that Sam didn't know he needed so badly to feel.
While he enjoyed this feeling, Sam kept his eyes closed, not quite ready to face the world with his eyes just yet. But while he was out of the cold, that didn't mean his head wasn't hurting anymore, but it was a dull ache now rather than the splitting agony he remembered from the forest. Someone had bandaged it as he could feel some makeshift bandage or a piece of cloth wrapped around his head, slightly too tight but secure. His ribs on the other hand, were still hurting when he breathed, but not as badly as they should have. The sharp, grinding pain of broken bones had dulled quite a lot, making him wonder how long he was out for his body to fix itself to such degree already.
As more and more of his senses came back to him, he realized that someone had covered him with blankets to keep him warm. They'd taken his jacket off, and his boots, but he was still wearing his jeans and shirt, though, which meant whoever had helped him had at least afforded him that much dignity.
While he was slowly inspecting his body, Sam heard some voices speaking in rapid Romanian. The first voice belonged to a woman, probably a young one, though it was hard to tell just from tone, while the second belonged to an older man, maybe her husband or father. Judging by their tones, they were arguing, or at least disagreeing about something, not like he could understand a word they were saying in the first place.
The conversation went back and forth as the woman's tone became more insistent. While that was happening, Sam kept his breathing steady and even, trying to act as if he was still sleep. It was another old habit he developed early in his life, since he found out quickly that people said more when they thought you couldn't hear them.
Eventually, the man said something that sounded final, followed by footsteps moving away and a door being closed. Once that happened, the only person that remained in the house was probably the woman and Sam figured it was probably time to stop pretending.
He opened his eyes slowly, wincing as even the dim firelight felt too bright for his eyes. The ceiling above him was made of dark wooden beams, and for the first time in years, he was thankful to see that rather than some white smooth ceiling.
"You're awake."
The words were in English, with an accent, that much was true, but it sounded quite clear, and they made Sam's head snap to the side despite the immediate protest from his neck.
"Careful, now." the woman said, moving into his field of vision. "Luiza said you probably have concussion. You shouldn't move too fast."
It was her. The woman from last night, the one who'd caught him before he collapsed. In the firelight, he could see her more clearly now. She was probably in her early twenties, with dark hair pulled back into a practical braid while her eyes were looking at with something that Sam, hadn't seen too often, and that was concern.
"You speak English," Sam said with some effort.
"Yes. My father too. We learned from... before." She hesitated on that last word, as if there was a story there, she didn't want to share. "Not everyone in the village speaks it, but some of us do. We had to, thanks to Mother Miranda."
She moved closer, kneeling beside the bed he was on, before offering him a cup. "Here. Drink slowly."
Sam tried to push himself up, but his arms weren't going to help just yet. The woman reached out automatically to help, gently guiding him into a half-sitting position propped against the wall.
"Thank you," he said after a few sips, already sounding like he felt a bit better. "For helping me and for bringing me inside your home."
The woman gave him a small smile before standing up. "You were nearly frozen. Another hour and..." She didn't finish the sentence, not like she had to.
"I know." Sam took another sip, trying to organize his thoughts. "Where am I?"
"You're in my home. In the village." She paused, seeming to measure how much to tell him or maybe she feared he wouldn't know regardless. "Oh, I forgot to introduce myself, my name is Elena. Elena Lupu."
"Samuel," Sam introduced himself almost as soon as he heard her name, then wondered if he should have given a different name. Well, it was too late now.
"Samuel," Elena repeated, the name sounding slightly different in her accent. "What happened to you? We found you at the forest edge, bleeding and forgive me for saying this, but you looked half-dead. You were clearly injured and your clothes torn. Was it accident? Or were you running from something?"
There it was. The question he'd known was coming, the one he didn't have a good answer for. Sam took another sip of water, buying himself a moment to think.
"Car accident," he said, which was true enough. "I was driving and a truck appearing in front of my car, we both swerved, I went off the road." He gestured vaguely toward the forest with his free hand. "Next thing I know is that I'm falling down the slope. The car's probably scrap metal by now."
"Strange, we would have heard if something big like a car crashed nearby. And you walked here? Through the forest? In the cold?"
"Well, it's not like I had an alternative there. Staying in the woods meant freezing to death, and after a while, I saw the smoke from your chimneys. You know the rest."
"I don't know what to say, Sam, but you were quite lucky," Elena told him, though her tone suggested she wasn't sure luck had anything to do with it. "The forest is dangerous, especially at night. There are things…" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "You were lucky."
Sam wanted to ask what she'd been about to say, what things made the forest dangerous, but it was clear, she wasn't going to tell him anything about that, at least not now.
"Luiza looked at your injuries," Elena said carefully. "She's the village healer. Has been for thirty years. When I helped her undress you, she said your ribs were badly bruised, maybe cracked, but thankfully not broken. She also said the cut on your head should have needed stitches. But by the time she cleaned the wound, it was already starting to close ever so slightly, so she just bandged it."
Fuck.
Sam kept his expression neutral, or tried to, but his heart started beating faster in his chest. "I heal fast. Always have. Good genes, I guess."
"Good genes," Elena repeated, but by the look she was giving him, she didn't believe his words. "Luiza has seen many injuries over the years, and believe me, Samuel. She had never seen anyone heal that fast. Mother Miranda watches over us. Perhaps she watched over you too."
The air between them suddenly felt heavier and he didn't have to be a mind reader to see how Elena was trying to piece something together in her head. She was wary of him, which to him mean that she was a smart woman. While he was indeed lacking in the muscle department, he was still looking decently healthy.
"Is that going to be a problem?" Sam asked her quietly.
Elena didn't answer right away. She stood up, moving back toward the fire, and for a moment Sam thought she might call for help, but she just stood there, arms crossed, staring into the flames.
"My father thinks we should have left you in the forest," she said finally, but she was not looking at him. "His philosophy was that strangers bring trouble, and sometimes I do agree with him on that. We have enough problems without adding more, but I'm also not going to just let someone die at my doorstep, even if my father is right."
"I'm not here to cause trouble," Sam said, which was true. He wasn't here for any reason except accident and bad luck. "I just need somewhere to rest for a day or two and let my body recover. Then I'll leave. I'll be out of your hair."
"Where will you go?" Elena asked him, as if he was stupid. "The nearest city is Brașov, maybe tens or even a hundred of kilometers from here. The roads are bad in winter., not to mention there's not really a good and direct one from here. And if you have no car..." She shook her head. "You'd never make it on foot, trust me on that."
Truth be told, Sam hadn't thought that far ahead. But she was right about one thing, he was effectively trapped here until spring, or until he could figure out another way to leave.
"I'll figure something out," he said, though he had no idea what that something might be.
Elena studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "You can stay. For now and once you are feeling better you can help around. My father won't like it, but this is my house too, and I say you can stay." She pointed toward him with one finger. "But if you bring trouble to this village, or if you put people in danger, I will throw you out myself. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good." She moved toward a small table against the far wall, where a pot was sitting on a heating stone. "You need to eat. After all, your body needs fuel if it's going to keep healing at whatever unnatural rate it heals at."
She ladled something into a wooden bowl and brought it over to him. It looked like some kind of vegetable stew, chunks of potato and carrot floating in a dark broth. Upon seeing the food, Sam's stomach finally decided to make itself know.
"Thank you," he said again, taking the bowl carefully. It was hot enough to warm his hands, and the smell made his mouth water.
Elena nodded, then moved toward the door. "Eat and then try to rest some more. I need to tell my father you're awake." She paused with her hand on the door handle. "He'll want to ask you questions. About where you came from, why you're here. I suggest you think carefully about your answers. And please try not to lie to him, he'll know."
The day passed quite peacefully, and most of it was spent in the spare bed. Sam drifted in and out of consciousness, while his body was doing what it did best- knitting itself back together with that unsettling efficiency that had kept him alive through worse than a car crash. Each time he woke, Elena was there or nearby, bringing him water, checking his bandages or sometimes speaking quietly to her father in Romanian when she thought Sam couldn't hear.
By evening, Sam felt almost human again. The headache had dulled to a faint throb, manageable without wincing every time he moved. His ribs still ached, but the grinding pain of broken bones was gone entirely. Too fast. Always too fast. But at least this time, there were no cameras, no one taking notes and even better, no one asking him to demonstrate exactly how much damage he could recover from.
Dinner was a quiet affair. Elena had helped him to the small wooden table near the fire, where three bowls of the same vegetable stew from earlier sat steaming. Leonardo, Elena's father, as Sam had correctly guessed earlier, sat across from him, glaring daggers at him as if he had murdered someone. Not that Sam could blame the man.
For some reason though, Leonardo didn't speak much with him, nor did he ask any questions. The old man just ate his stew in measured spoonfuls and kept his eyes on the young man across from him. Sam had been studied before, but usually by people in white coats with clipboards. This was different, he had yet to see if for the better or not, as this was the gaze of a man trying to decide if Sam was a threat to his family.
Thanks to that, and because he was genuinely grateful for all the help he received from Elena, Sam kept his head down and ate. The stew was simple but filling, and his body craved the calories.
While they were eating, Sam let his eyes wander around the house and the first thing he saw was an old hunting rifle leaned against the wall near Leonardo's chair. It was a bit old, that much was clear, but it was well maintained, and if he were honest with himself, Sam knew what that rifle meant to outsiders.
I can protect what's mine.
They ate in silence broken only by the crackle of the fire and the scrape of wooden spoons against clay bowls. Sam was halfway through his second helping when Leonardo pushed his chair back with a scrape that made Sam's shoulders tense reflexively.
The older man stood without a word before moving to where the rifle was and once it was in his hands, he checked something on the bolt before picking up a small oil lantern from a shelf.
Elena's spoon paused halfway to her mouth.
Leonardo said something in Romanian to her and Elena responded with a single word that sounded like she reluctantly accepted his words. Then without saying anything else, he was moving toward the ladder that led to what Sam assumed was an attic or upper floor.
Once her father was out of sight, Sam looked at Elena, who was staring down at her bowl.
"What is he doing up there?" Sam asked her quietly.
"Watching." But Elena didn't elaborate any further.
The two of them finished eating in the same tense silence as before, but this time, it was pretty clear to him that his host was feeling worried. Regardless, Sam helped Elena clear the bowls or so he tried to, until she waved him back to his chair with a look that said he was still recovering and should act like it. Once she was done with the dishes, the young woman went over to the fire and added one more log before she went to check if the door was barred, the shutters closed over the windows and of course, somewhat secured too.
Whatever the reason behind this kind of preparation was, it wasn't a good sign.? After all , no one, who feels safe would go to such lengths to secure their home at night.
As he was looking at her finishing these preparations, Elena settled into a chair across from him, pulling a worn shawl tighter around her shoulders. Overhead, the floorboards creaked occasionally as Leonardo moved in the attic. Watching, as she said.
Watching for what? That was the question that kept bothering Sam.
"Samuel," Elena said after a long moment, she spoke softly and quietly so that her voice wouldn't carry upstairs. "What do you know about Romanian folklore?"
The question caught him off guard. "Folklore?"
"Yes. You must have heard some of the stories. Or well, legends." She was watching him carefully. "Strigoi, moroi, pricolici, things like that."
Sam shook his head slowly. "Not much. I've heard of vampires, I guess. Dracula and all that. But I don't..." He trailed off, unsure where this was going. "I didn't exactly have time for fairy tales growing up."
"I don't suppose this is something of a common subject." She was quiet for a moment, then: "They're not fairy tales here. At least not anymore."
"What do you mean?"
Elena glanced toward the ceiling, as if checking if her father was still occupied, then leaned forward slightly and whispered to him. "The things from the stories, the very same monsters that grandmothers used to scare children from having them wandering at night… they're real. They've always been real, it seems. But in the past few months, it's gotten worse. At least before, I only heard it in story, not see it with my own eyes."
Sam wanted to dismiss it as superstition, or the sort of thing an isolated village would tell its people, not to have them panic too much. But in Elena's eyes, Sam couldn't find any of that. This wasn't the gaze of someone with a fear of shadows. This was the look of someone who'd seen something and couldn't unsee it.
"What kind of things are you referring to, Elena?"
"Lycans. That's what Mother Miranda calls them, though some of the older villagers still use the old names. Vârcolaci. Or Wolf-men." She wrapped her arms around herself. "They hunt at night, but lately we have seen them even in day time. Sometimes they attack houses, trying to break in. Because of that, my father watches from the attic since from up there, he has a better angle if they come."
Just as she was about to continue, a sound that didn't quite seem to come from an animal made the whole world froze for a split second. Across from him, Elena went completely still, as her eyes went towards the shuttered windows as if she could see through the wood to whatever made that sound.
A second later, it came again and this time, Sam realized it was a howl, but not quite a wolf's howl. Something in it was wrong, almost as if it was some kind of imitation done by a different creature than a wolf. The sound did not make his pulse spike the way it should have. If anything, something inside him stilled upon hearing that howl and it scared Sam a little.
"They always come in packs," Elena whispered.
"How often?"
"Two months ago it used to be once a week, sometimes not even that. But lately?" She shook her head. "Three times in the last eight days. They're getting more aggressive. Five nights ago, the Popescu family, one of our neighbors, two houses down, were..." She stopped and swallowed hard. "They were found in the morning. What was left of them."
"Jesus, fucking Christ."
"Mother Miranda's most devoted came and took the bodies away. But not before they told us it was an animal attack and to keep our doors locked and our windows shuttered and everything would be fine."
"But it's not fine."
"No," Elena agreed. "It's not fine, but we have to believe in Mother Miranda."
Another howl split the night. Closer this time, no, it was close enough that Sam could almost feel it vibrating through the walls while at the same time Elena's hands gripped the edge of the table, and Sam could swear that he saw a bit of fear in her eyes.
"How many do you usually see when they come out?"
"At least three," Elena said. "There were a few time when there were more. They hunt in packs. The weaker ones follow the stronger, following the same principle as we do : Safety in numbers, even for monsters."
Sam stood slowly, feeling his whole body tense up in anticipation to an attack. It wasn't like he could control it either, as his old instincts were hard to forget even though there was nothing he could do. He didn't have a weapon. He was still recovering. But sitting felt wrong when something was circling his like a prey, something that had torn apart an entire family not long ago.
Elena noticed him standing and shook her head at him. "Please don't. There's nothing you can do. My father knows what he's doing. We just have to…"
A different sound cut her off. Not a howl this time, but something that to Sam sounded way worse. Sounding as if it was on the other side of the wall.
Then another loud growl joined it. And another. Those creatures were right outside and because of that realization,Elena's face had gone pale, but she didn't move toward the window. She knew better than that.
"They're testing us," she whispered. "Seeing if we're afraid."
"Will they attack?"
"Sometimes they do, but more times than often no, they just circle until they get bored or find an easier prey. We just have to wait. Stay quiet and don't give them a reason to try and break inside."
Even though she said that, the snarling from outside continued for a few good minutes, as more and more heavy footsteps were circling the house, occasionally banging on the walls or even the door.
Overhead, the attic floor creaked once and Sam was sure Leonardo was adjusting his position or maybe he was just trying to get a good shot just in case.
Another couple of minutes crawled past. The snarling would fade, then return, almost as if those creatures were toying with them, or maybe they were genuinely trying to decide if the house was worth the effort, but Sam didn't hold the second option too close to heart.
And then, as abruptly as it had started, the sounds faded.
Not all at once, of course, but gradually and within minutes, there was nothing but silence and the whisper of wind through the trees.
After a few seconds, Elena let out a long, shaky sigh. "They're leaving."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." She finally moved, releasing her death grip on the table and wrapping her shawl tighter around herself. "Sometimes this is all they do. Other times..." She didn't finish the sentence, but Sam understood. Other times, families like the Popescus met their end.
"Does it always work like this?" Sam asked, before quickly explaining what he meant. "The waiting and then hope they'll leave?"
"It has to." Elena moved toward the window, not to open the shutters but just to stand near it. "We don't have a choice. Mother Miranda says we must endure. To us, Sam, this is a trial of faith. And those who are pure of heart will be protected by her grace."
The way she said it, was just wrong. Sam had no doubt, Elena believed once those words, but now? She wasn't sure of herself, but at the same time it wasn't like he faith was wavering.
"And the ones who weren't protected?" Like the Popescus?"
Elena's shoulders tensed upon hearing that, but she didn't turn around. "Mother Miranda works in ways we cannot understand, Samuel. Their deaths served a greater purpose. We must have faith."
"Do you believe that?"
For a long moment, Elena didn't answer. She just stood there, staring at the shuttered window without making a sound other than breathing slowly.
"I believe we don't have a choice. As I told you earlier, it's not fine, Samuel. Nothing about this is fine. But we have to believe in Mother Miranda. Because if we don't believe in her, then what do we have left?"
Sam didn't have an answer for it. Nor did he know what you could tell someone who'd been trapped in a system so long they couldn't see the bars anymore.
He'd worn those same bars once and had believed the doctors when they said the experiments were necessary. Hell, at some point he even starts to believe he deserved what was happening to him because he had no other framework to understand it.
"Elena, I'm…"
But before he could finished his words, a gunshot cut him off.
It was so loud that Sam felt it in his bones, and not just him, as Elena's eyes went wide and her whole body went rigid. "Tată!"
Another sound followed immediately, almost as if something large was hitting the wood hard enough to rattle the walls. Then a screech that sounded inhuman, full of rage and pain.
Meanwhile, Sam was already moving. His body acted before his brain caught up as his old reflexes took over. He crossed the room in three strides and grabbed the ladder to the attic.
"Samuel, wait-" Elena started, but he was already climbing.
The space was smaller than he expected, barely tall enough to stand. And once he was fully inside the attic he found Leonardo at the far end by a small window.
"What happened?" Sam asked him in English, then immediately realized Leonardo probably wouldn't.
"One got too close," Leonardo said, his English was a bit worse than his daughter's, but not bad enough for Sam to not understand him. Sam know what the old man meant by that. Outside, beyond the firing port, both men heard them.
Not just one or two anymore, but the whole pack was screaming and when Sam peeked outside the window, he finally saw what Elena told him.
< This will be my first take on a more romance aimed fanfiction in RE universe. The plot will revolve a lot around House Dimitrescu and its daughters, and the story happens 3 years before Ethan arrives here, so around the time he finds Mia in Louisiana. More chapters on Patr3on .Just change "3" with "e" : https://patr3on.com/meatbunkun>