The Vampire Diaries: The Fury Chapter One

Elena ventured into the clearing. Underneath her feet wears out of harvest time leaves were freezing into the slush. Nightfall had fallen, and in spite of the fact that the tempest was decreasing the forested areas were getting colder. Elena didn't feel the virus. Neither did she mind the dim. Her understudies opened wide, getting together small particles of light that would have been imperceptible to a human. She could see the two figures battling underneath the extraordinary oak tree plainly. One had thick dim hair, which the breeze had beaten into a tumbled ocean of waves. He was somewhat taller than the other, and in spite of the fact that Elena couldn't see his face she some way or another realized his eyes were green. The other had a stun of dull hair too, however his was fine and straight, practically like the pelt of a creature. His lips were moved back from his teeth in fierceness, and the relaxing effortlessness of his body was assembled into a predator's hunch. His eyes were dark. Elena watched them for a few minutes without moving. She'd overlooked why she had come here, for what reason she'd been pulled here by the echoes of their fight in her brain. This nearby the fuss of their displeasure and scorn and agony was practically stunning, as quiet yells originating from the warriors. They were secured a passing match. I wonder which of them will win, she thought. They were both injured and dying, and the taller one's left arm hung at an unnatural point. All things considered, he had quite recently hammered the other against the contorted trunk of an oak tree. His anger was solid to such an extent that Elena could feel and taste it just as hear it, and she realized it was invigorating him unimaginable. And afterward Elena recalled why she had come. How might she have overlooked? He was harmed. His brain had gathered her here, battering her with stun influxes of fury and torment. She had come to help him since she had a place with him. The two figures were down on the cold ground presently, correcting like wolves, growling. Quickly and quietly Elena went to them. The one with the wavy hair and green eyes-Stefan, a voice in her brain murmured was on top, fingers scrabbling at the other's throat. Outrage washed through Elena, outrage and defense. She came to among them to get that stifling hand, to pry the fingers up. It didn't happen to her that she shouldn't be sufficiently able. She was sufficient; that was all. She tossed her weight to the side, tweaking her hostage away from his rival. For good measure, she weighed down hard on his injured arm, thumping him level all over in the leaf-tossed slush. At that point she started to stifle him from behind. Her assault had shocked him, yet he was a long way from beaten. He struck back at her, his great hand bungling for her throat. His thumb delved into her windpipe. Her assault had shocked him, yet he was a long way from beaten. He struck back at her, his great hand bungling for her throat. His thumb delved into her windpipe. Yet, he was more grounded than she was. With a snap of his shoulders, he broke her hang on him and turned in her grip, tossing her down. And afterward he was over her, his face twisted with creature anger. She murmured at him and went for his eyes with her nails, yet he thumped her hand away. He was going to murder her. Indeed, even injured, he was by a long shot the more grounded. His lips had stepped back to go on the defensive previously recolored with red. Like a cobra, he was prepared to strike. At that point he quit, floating over her, his face evolving. Elena saw the green eyes extend. The students, which had been contracted to awful spots, sprang open. He was gazing down at her as though really observing her just because. For what reason would he say he was taking a gander at her that way? For what reason didn't he simply get it over with? Yet, presently the iron hand on her shoulder was discharging her. The creature growl had vanished, supplanted by a look of bewilderment and miracle. He sat back, helping her to sit up, at the same time looking into her face. â€Å"Elena,† he murmured. His voice was split. â€Å"Elena, it's you.† Is that who I am? she thought. Elena? It didn't generally make a difference. She cast a look toward the old oak tree. He was still there, remaining between the upthrust roots, gasping, supporting himself against it with one hand. He was taking a gander at her with his unendingly bruised eyes, his foreheads attracted together a glare. Try not to stress, she thought. I can deal with this one. He's idiotic. At that point she flung herself on the green-looked at one once more. â€Å"Elena!† he cried as she thumped him in reverse. His great hand pushed at her shoulder, holding her up. â€Å"Elena, it's me, Stefan! Elena, take a gander at me!† She was looking. Everything she could see was the uncovered fix of skin at his neck. She murmured once more, upper lip moving back, getting defensive. He solidified. She felt the stun resound through his body, saw his look break. His face went as white as though somebody had struck him a blow in the stomach. He shook his head marginally on the sloppy ground. â€Å"No,† he murmured. â€Å"Oh, no†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He was by all accounts saying it to himself, as though he didn't anticipate that her should hear him. He arrived at a hand toward her cheek, and she spoke harshly to it. â€Å"Oh, Elena†¦Ã¢â‚¬  he murmured. The last hints of rage, of creature bloodlust, had vanished from his face. His eyes were bewildered and blasted and lamenting. The last hints of rage, of creature bloodlust, had vanished from his face. His eyes were bewildered and blasted and lamenting. He gazed at her a second, the agony in his eyes arriving at a pinnacle, and afterward he basically surrendered. He quit battling totally. She could feel it occur, feel the opposition leave his body. He lay on the frigid ground with pieces of oak leaves in his hair, gazing up past her at the dark and obfuscated sky. Finish it, his exhausted voice said in her psyche. Elena wavered for a moment. There was something in particular about those eyes that called up recollections inside her. Remaining in the evening glow, sitting in a storage room room†¦ But the recollections were excessively ambiguous. She was unable to get a grip on them, and the exertion made her mixed up and wiped out. Also, this one needed to bite the dust, this green-looked at one called Stefan. Since he'd hurt him, the other one, the one Elena had been destined to be with. Nobody could hurt him and live. She cinched her teeth into his throat and bit profound. She understood immediately that she wasn't doing it very right. She hadn't hit a conduit or vein. She stressed at the throat, irate at her own inability. It felt great to nibble something, yet very little blood was coming. Baffled, she lifted up and bit once more, feeling his body snap in torment. Much better. She'd found a vein this time, yet she hadn't torn it profoundly enough. A little scratch like that wouldn't do. What she required was to tear it directly over, to let the rich hot circulation system out. Her casualty shivered as she attempted to do this, teeth raking and biting. She was simply feeling the tissue give way when hands pulled at her, lifting her from behind. Elena growled without relinquishing the throat. The hands were stubborn however. An arm circled about her midsection, fingers twined in her hair. She battled, sticking with teeth and nails to her prey. Relinquish him. Leave him! The voice was sharp and ordering, similar to an impact from a virus wind. Elena remembered it and quit battling with the hands that pulled her away. As they stored her on the ground and she admired see him, a name came into her brain. Damon. His name was Damon. She gazed at him gloomily, angry of being yanked away from her slaughter, yet faithful. Stefan was sitting up, his neck red with blood. It was running onto his shirt. Elena licked her lips, feeling a pulse like a craving for food that appeared to originate from each fiber of her being. She was bleary eyed once more. â€Å"I thought,† Damon said so anyone might hear, â€Å"that you said she was dead.† He was taking a gander at Stefan, who was significantly paler than previously, if that was conceivable. That white face loaded up with boundless misery. â€Å"Look at her† was all he said. A hand measured Elena's jaw, inclining her face up. She met Damon's limited dull eyes straightforwardly. At that point long, thin fingers contacted her lips, examining between them. Naturally Elena attempted to nibble, however not hard. Damon's finger found the sharp bend of a canine tooth, and Elena bit presently, giving it a touch like a kitten's. Damon's face was passive, his eyes hard. â€Å"Do you know where you are?† he said. Elena looked around. Trees. â€Å"In the woods,† she said cunningly, glancing back at him. â€Å"And who is that?† She followed his pointing finger. â€Å"Stefan,† she said apathetically. â€Å"Your brother.† â€Å"And who am I? Do you know who I am?† She grinned up at him, going on the defensive. â€Å"Of course I do. You're Damon, and I love you.†