Nameless

You continued to train like this for a few more nights, for an hour or more, from when you stopped to pitch camp, until Korin called you over for dinner. One night, about a week after you had started training, he stood and brought his own dagger, a blade that could have been the twin of your own.
“Shall we?” He asked. “Consider it a test, if you like.” You nodded and faced him. He started the fight, letting a leaf drop from his hand. You rushed him, charging in with a stab, which he avoided, and adding a sweep to the stomach area. He avoided this and tried cutting you on the arm, which you dodged, and retaliated. Korin was very fast, faster than you, with more power. He weaved around all of your attacks with ease, just as Esiladae had always done with a sword. The fight was wearing you out; you could feel yourself growing more tired by the minute. If it hadn’t, maybe one of you would have sensed the eyes, trained on you. Once, his dagger nicked your skin just enough for it to bleed slightly. Finally, after more than fifteen minutes of this, when you slashed at his face, he blocked with the backs of his wrists, twisting one of his wrists around, and held your wrist firmly, preventing any more. You protested, but he just smiled, pleased to have found an eager student.
“I wasn’t done yet.” You told him, as he handed you your plate. He smirked, and said,
“Yes, you were. Your speed and strength are good; you probably got that from the sword training. Your endurance is incredible; Esiladae must have trained you well. Your techniques could be a little sharper, but we’ll fix that. Other than that, you just need to use your blocks more. I, on the other hand, have gotten rusty.” He rummaged in his pack for something. He pulled a small container.
“Give me your hand,” He demanded, holding out his own for your arm. You gave him a look, which he returned.
“I know I nicked you. Come here.” You shrugged.
“It’s fine. I’ve had worse.” He chuckled mirthlessly.
“I’m sure you have had worse. But you haven’t had worse with a Hunter’s weapon, because you’d be dead,” You blinked as he rolled his eyes and continued with a sigh. “It probably stings, doesn’t it?” You shrugged again. “Mm-hmm, I thought so. Well, if I had a normal blade, it would have healed by now, yes? That won’t.” he said, indicating your hand with a nod, as he stood up and moved closer to you, taking your hand. He opened the container, and an herbal smell emanated from it. He dipped two of his fingers in and rubbed them over the small cut. It immediately stopped throbbing, and began to heal. He moved back to his seat again, dropping the salve back into his pack.
“Thanks.” You said softly. He shrugged.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have cut you in the first place.” He told you, picking up his own plate. You sat in uncomfortable silence and picked at your food. When he finally spoke, it was softly.
“I told you that I don’t know my true name.” You nodded, slightly surprised. “Well, I don’t remember anything. No family, no name, no history. I only know one trade,” you knew which trade he meant. “I know what’s happened from now until when I was about ten.” He hadn’t looked at you once during this; he stared at the fire instead. He looked up, then.
“I don’t hate your kind, by the way.” He told you. You believed him; nobody would take in a person of a group that they hated. He looked like he was about to say something else; possibly more on the subject; when he froze, staring at the woods beyond the circle of light made by the fire. Your nose, sensitive enough to smell Korin’s scent from a mile away, finally picked up the smell of your own kind. Proving the point, they melted out of the underbrush. Korin was at his feet in an instant, sword in his hand. It was still sheathed, but the threat was thinly veiled. All in all, there were about thirty vampires in the firelight, with more probably surrounding you. You also got to your feet, quickly enough not to fall over, but slowly enough to seem as though you were in command of the situation, hoping you looked as if you were in your own living room. In reality, you were mentally hyperventilating.