Silently walking amidst the fallen branches and leaves of the Wincroft Forest, the last few days had been productive for Ian. Further to the northeast lay the ruins of a town that had emptied before the Infected settled there, which he had ultimately scouted out; he found a particularly rich trove there of materials which the Solar Eclipse could reclaim and repurpose for either Eclipse's usage or the usage of a customer. He had it all there, written into his notebook; unlooted warehouses, abandoned vehicles and unopened houses seemed ripe for the taking; the Treasurer had even drawn a map of the town, thus detailing the area. I'm not much of a cartographer, but at least it serves its purpose well enough. Slowly but surely, the sun was setting; it meant that the Infected were going to become much more active...though that did not concern him. He was, as much as he preferred not to think about it, one of them; they'd leave their Level V cousin alone, unless he were to make a move against them. As far as Ian was concerned, he also left well enough alone...unless his kin made a move against the Uninfected. It felt like the Vampire's obligation, the right thing to do as it were to him. Whilst he knew he wasn't guilty of the atrocities carried out by his monstrous self, he still could not help but soul-crushing remorse for it...of course, he wasn't completely blinded by this perspective, otherwise he would have met a bullet in the brain years ago due to the uglier aspects of human nature.

Soon enough, night would fall upon the forest; were he an ordinary man, he'd be blind in the twilight, but thanks to his condition, he could see remarkably well thanks to the tapetum lucidum that had developed in the eyes of those who were Infected. Though suddenly, he stopped; a scent entered his nostrils; it was a siren song, trying to entrance Ian's olfactory sense...as though trying to tempt him to come and partake of what it had to offer. To Ian, it mean only one thing...blood; someone was injured, and out in the wilds, that was a most ill tiding. The wounded were practically a walking dinner bell; sooner or later, one of the Infected was going to catch a whiff of the spilled blood on the wind...and God help the unlucky bastard if they attracted an entire pack of Ferals. With this in mind, and spurred by his convictions, Ian would draw his bow and began to follow the sanguine scent...he hoped he wouldn't be too late.

Soon enough, as the growling got louder and the scent was practically in his face, the Vampire suddenly stopped. An explosion of the scent of another type of blood overwhelmed him for but a brief moment. As he looked around, he could see a small pack of Feral infected fighting amongst each other, splattered in what was clearly donated blood; he could smell the chemicals that were used to help preserve it before being transfused into a patient. Personally, he found it gave it a peculiar tangy taste, but it filled a hole in the end. That was when he spotted movement, away from a damaged building and his Feral counterparts. It was a human male, breaking for the treeline, most likely having launched the blood to create a distraction. Ian knew that it would only be temporary; once it was clear that they'd begin tasting the flesh and blood of their own, they would immediately try to go after the human. They would have to follow him via line of sight and the sound of his footfalls on the forest floor, since their sense of smell would be overwhelmed for a few minutes. The Level V Infected would also have to favour line of sight as well; even if the blood had not been splattered in his face, he found that his own olfactory senses were partially disrupted by the spilled blood bag. With that in mind, he would silently approach around; whilst the Ferals would leave him be in most cases, they would not hesitate to turn on him out of pure feeding territorialism...discretion was ultimately keen here.

Knowing that he would not have time to nock another arrow, Ian would swiftly shoulder the bow and draw his glaive. Upon doing so, he would help the man that had previously been sitting on his stomach, where he would swiftly ask.

From then on, the two of them would happen across one of the many abandoned houses that the town possessed. Naturally, the stranger would race to it, definitely indicating a previous familiarity with the place. When they entered, the Infected swiftly closed the door and placed the old door chain in place. Whilst it would not hold back even a determined Hunter for long, it would provide a warning to anyone who occupied the building.