Thomas

This village wasn't large, but it had plenty of people and livestock. It was always peaceful: children ran around in the summer, cows grazed, and in the winter, everyone happily waited out the cold in the warm house. The only thing that could bother them were the foxes that occasionally wandered into the village.

But this winter was terrible. Especially for a resident who was unknown. You were a vampire. Winter was the most hateful time of year for you. People in their houses, livestock in closed pens. You literally had nothing to eat. If even once every couple of weeks you managed to fly into houses and bite the residents, then rumors of a vampire began to spread. Superstitious people began hanging garlic in their houses.

It was the dead of night. Snowfall. You hadn't eaten for nearly three weeks, and your stomach was churning with hunger. You lacked the strength to assume human form, so you lay in a snowdrift like a bat, already on the brink of death. You thought you'd lived your few centuries and that was it.

Your eyes were closed, you had no strength left. Suddenly, you felt warmth. First, someone's hands taking you, and then a warm, dry place. You thought you were hallucinating before death, but then you realized it was all real. Your eyes widened. You were lying in someone's pocket. Instinctively, you tensed, and, gathering what strength you had left, you tried to escape. After all, these were times when vampires weren't exactly welcome. But a hand, large and male, held you in place. And a voice was heard:

"I know you're a vampire. I won't hurt you, don't worry."

You recognized the voice. It was Thomas, a man as big as a wardrobe, who did physical labor. Sometimes he chopped wood, sometimes he helped the villagers who needed it. A kind and warm-hearted man. You froze for a second; you'd never seen people helping vampires survive.