“Four… three… two… one… zero! I’m coming!” the voice of a child rang out through the woods. It belonged to a nine year old boy who appeared like thirteen due to his body height, although his general build and his facial features were clearly still those of a child. His large amber eyes sparkled with pleasure when he looked around for his game partners. The boy who was called Friedbert played at a highly unusual time at an unusual place. Since on one hand this was the deepest forest into which no human had ever set foot – aside from Friedbert though – on the other hand it was approximately one hour before sunrise, even when the warm nights of August surely didn’t make the child feel cold. The boy admittedly had spent his whole life up to now in the forest without ever catching sight of a human but he was by no means lonely. He even had many friends with whom he could play, hide and seek for instance, like now too. Friedbert had an unbeatable advantage at his side in playing hide and seek at this hour of the day though. He could find his friends with ease. Just like now.

“I can see you, Ava!” Friedbert shouted and purposefully had a look at a dense bramble. Underneath the thorny branches partially laden with fruits already, there hid a small blue flame with little hands and feet whose face was almost not recognizable in the bright light. The will-o’-the-wisp, that’s what it was, came out of hiding with a disappointed high sound and admitted defeat. Then the human boy continued his search for other little blue flames because the will-o’ the wisps that were at home in the mire of the woods, they were his friends.

“Eppe!” “Bodo!” “Effi!” “Wittig!” “Eike!” “Herdis!” “Thedel!” “Malchen!” “Guste!” “Turpin!” “Lubbe!” “Algis!” “Imma!” “Gosa!” In short intervals the names Friedbert had given his playmates rang out. Since the will-o’-the-wisps were souls of children who had died before they could obtain their names, they were very thankful to their friend for that reason. They repaid the boy for his good deed through standing by his side as playmates. Not that they themselves wouldn’t have had great fun in doing so.

When Friedbert finally had found all of his fifteen friends, he also had to hide himself and his little friend Ava had to seek. Gently like a whispering wind, the will-o’-the-wisp floating up and down in front of a big beech tree counted from twenty downwards.

The black haired human child quickly looked around for a good hiding place. An old hollow oak tree close by appeared promising. Without hesitation Friedbert squeezed into the narrow tree hole, not caring about it that some creepy-crawlies surprised by his sudden presence scurried away over his body. The boy chuckled quietly and waited.

Suddenly Ava’s agitated call resounded, soon accompanied by those of the other will-o’-the-wisps. Therefore, he now left his hiding place himself. The little fire spirits had gathered on a small clearing where very many ripe strawberries were growing, which not only the birds but also the friends snacked with pleasure. In the circle of blue light there lay an unconscious figure covered in burns all over. Cautiously, the boy leaned over the motionlessly lying person which turned out to be a woman upon closer examination. With a few medical methods that were known to him, the child tried to make sure of the unconscious person’s condition. To his confusion no pulse could be felt whereas a sight breath was noticeable. Since he was at his wit’s end, help had to come.

Promptly Friedbert turned around and ran into the opposite direction.

“Grohla!” he shouted at the top of his voice “Grohla, an emergency!” Grohla, that was how the boy called his grandmother, the old woman who had raised him.

She currently sat at a little fire surrounded by thick fog and brewed her chicory coffee. The old woman herself was not taller than a four or five years old child, therefore much smaller than her grandson, though she wasn’t human but rather a buschweibchen, a female wood sprite. When she heard the ruckus, the deeply hunched woman as old as the hills slowly rose from her spot. In doing so she supported herself on a knobby cane.

“What is all the fuss about?” she wanted to know with a rasping voice and dissatisfiedly shook her head covered with long snow-white hair.

“An emergency, Grohla!” An emergency!” the boy repeated and tugged agitatedly at the green sleeve of her dress consisting from threads of moss. He wore trousers and a shirt from the same material. “At the clearing, there is a half-dead woman!” A half-dead woman!”

“It’s fine, dearie. I understand.” the granny replied and slowly staggered with mossy feet along the way the boy lead her. Before, however, she still had brought a selection of the most important medicinal herbs from her subterranean dwelling and put it in her tied-up apron.

Soon afterwards they approached the still unconscious woman. The will-o’-the-wisps made way respectfully but stayed close out of curiosity. That could only be fine with Adalberga, how the buschweibchen was called, because the sun still hadn’t risen. She too noted that the unconscious person paradoxically had a breath but neither a pulse nor a heartbeat though. In contrast to her grandson, however, she understood it.

“A vampire? Here in our forest?” she murmured in bewilderment.

“Grohla, what’s a vampire?” Friedbert who crouched directly next to her wanted to know.

“A creature that feeds solely on human blood.” The elderly woman explained with ambiguous feelings. What did a vampire appear for in the deepest forest were no people could be found far and wide? Well, except for her grandson.

“Human blood?” the boy asked in amazement. He couldn’t quite imagine why someone would want to feed on blood.

“Enough chatter!” the buschweibchen decided “If I shall save the vampire, then we need to bring her to our earth chamber before dawn. Vampires can’t tolerate the sun at all, you see.”

Friedbert understood the unsaid instruction and, with the help of the will-o’-the-wisps, loaded the woman who was a little more than a head taller on his back. He then followed after his grandmother, leaving the legs of the unconscious person dragging over the soil. The little fire spirits lighted the way in the meantime before they would retire before sunrise.

Startled, Dragomira jumped awake and promptly hit her head. Her whole body hurt terribly. Confused she looked around. Although she happened to be in nearly impenetrable darkness, her blood-red eyes could still see exquisitely. At the moment she lay on a bed of moss, covered with a too short blanket which was in all likelihood made from the same material. Her resting spot was located at a side wall of a dark chamber composed of soil that, excluding the moss-covered floor, enclosed a shelf roughly timbered together from sticks and branches containing dishes and storage vessels from clay in addition to dried and fresh foods and green balls of moss yarn, and bunches of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling spreading their spicy-tangy odor in the subterranean dwelling.

Confused, the vampire tried to remember what had happened. She, who was a member of the infamous assassin organization Night Dagger, had failed her last mission miserably and had barely been able to save her own life. In the course of this she had been blazingly engulfed in flames though. She couldn’t remember any further. However, it was to expect that there wasn’t much left of her previous beauty, especially of her long auburn hair. Surprised the assassin found that someone had taken care of her wounds because all her burns and other wounds had been medically treated.

Even if the assassin stayed on guard, she felt a wave of relief washing over her. At the same time the hunger for fresh human blood became noticeable since the red lifeblood was able to speed up her self-recovery many times.

A little bit later a stooped boy stepped into the low room. When he discovered that the woman on the sickbed had awoken – she supported herself on her arm to sit up a bit – he turned around immediately and shouted: “Grohla! She is awake!”

Not long after a small granny staggered inside and examined the patient attentively and somewhat critically as well from moss green eyes. “You are doubtlessly conscious again.” she remarked dryly.

Dragomira replied no more and watched the old woman warily. There was no doubt about it that the buschweibchen had tended to the heavily injured vampire, were the wood sprites considered highly competent at healing after all. That a human child was in company of the healer though, that was something completely uncommon.

“Really remarkable that you have regained consciousness with such heavy burns after half a day already.” the elderly woman said “You are welcome to rest with us as long as necessary, but I warn you! Should you put even one finger on Friedbert, then I know ways and means to cause you suffering which will let your previous injuries appear like a gentle spring breeze.”

The threat was unmistakable. Even when the boy was a tempting food source for the undead, he was taboo for her. It wouldn’t be the first time that the assassin has to manage famished without a meal of blood for a long time while there are people right under her nose. Dragomira signaled that she had understood with a nod of her head, for her throat was still too sore to speak after all. Subsequently, the old woman let her grandson come in. He brought a bucket of fresh water with which the patient refreshed herself initially before her wounds were bathed with it before ointment and bandage were renewed.

The vampire’s recovery progressed surprisingly fast. Even without any human blood. After no more than a week she could already leave her bed and perform simple mobility exercises, although still hurting all over. When the sun had set she already joined Adalberga and Friedbert at the campfire for short periods of time. Dragomira soon had understood that the buschweibchen and the human boy were no danger for her, likewise the boy’s will-o’-the wisp friends who had swarmed around her as soon as she had left the subterranean chamber hidden below a hazel bush for the first time. The child who was younger than initially thought turned out to be a real pain in the neck though who downright drilled her with questions in his curiosity.

It was like this too one evening when Friedbert inquired: “Say, what’s your name and where are you from?”

“That is a secret.” Dragomira replied with a still coarse voice.

“You have no name?” the boy naively asked “Then I’ll give you one. Ava, Eppe, and the others have their names from me too. Fine, Grohla told me many names she knew before but I chose them. Ah, I know one! Rose! We’ll name you Rose! Grohla has said that you once must have been as beautiful as a rose. Therefore Rose.”

“All but that!” the assassin moaned but the name stuck. From this time on she was only called Rose by everyone and the will-o’-the-wisps never forgot to remind her how thankful she had to be to Friedbert for her name. She admittedly could have rid herself quickly from the unloved name by disclosure of her own name but that she didn’t want to and couldn’t do. Why she didn’t state an alias, who knew?

In late September when the nights got cooler again and the trees started to lose their colorful leaves, Dragomira had recovered so far that she could go her own way again. Adalberga had assured her that, at the rate at which she recovered and with her self-healing power, scars likely wouldn’t remain. As for the matter of her hair regrowth, it would take quite a long time. Since her clothes hadn’t really been useable as well, scorched as she had been, the assassin was now clad into a dress of green moss cloth that the buschweibchen had gifted her.

“I’ll miss you, Rose!” Friedbert complained with a long face. For him the vampire was a rare new friend from a foreign world, even if she hadn’t really told him of the world outside.

She, on the contrary, was quite happy that she wouldn’t have anything more to do with the annoying and at the same time temptingly delicious child. Soon she would dive into the shadows of the underworld again to which she belonged as an assassin, and there she would report about the information she had found during her mission. Consequently, the mission hadn’t failed completely.

“I will certainly not say ‘See you again’.” the granny declared with an ironic smile on her wrinkled face “Since we will hardly ever meet again. Nevertheless, I wish you all the best in your world while we will stay in ours.”

The undead, taciturn until the end, bid goodbye with a short nod before she turned around and resolutely stroke out so that she soon disappeared into the darkness of the night.

“Don’t be sad, dearie.” the old woman said to her grandson when she gently took his hand “Like we have our life Rose has hers, and it is surely for the best that she can return to her old life. I don’t think that she would have been happy here with us in the long run.”

The boy nodded pitifully, tears in his eyes.

“You know what?” his grandmother continued “Since you have been very brave today you deserve a big slice of cheesecake.” She had baked just this morning since she could somewhat predict the situation. And really: The prospect of sweet pastry slightly dried the child’s tears. Hand in hand they turned towards their home where they surely would pass many more interesting days.