Really struck this time around by how all the locals tried so hard to save Jonathan and protect him.
You live under an undead and terrorising boyar. Who knows how many strangers you've sent on to his unyielding grasp. How many children have been lost to his greedy mouth and the three other terrors that live with him?
The latest victim is so sweet too. He compliments your cooking. He talks about his fiancee and his new job and you stumble along in conversation, broken German on both sides. He is so lovely. So full of life. Of hope.
You break down crying, begging him not to go, finally resorting to handing him your rosary. He seems reluctant. He's so innocent. He doesn't know. Is this what all English are like?
You must save this one. For his mother's sake. For his fiancee. For everyone who holds him dear. No more.
You tell the driver -- you know him. And his sister. And brother. And aunt. And uncle. You tell everyone you know.
Not this one.
You wave him off. Is that worry on his face? Does he know? Does he suspect? You don't know. You can't see this far away. You're getting old.
You go back inside. You hope he survives. You know he probably won't.
You're driving the English Man to the Vampire. The old lady at the hotel told you to please try. Make haste. Outwit him. Somehow.
Easy for her to say! But you try anyway.
Not this one. No more.
You race against time, driving your horses on and on and on.
If you just make it before the time ... maybe you can save this one ...
The young fool offers to walk outside the carriage. Doesn't he know anything? The wolves! And there are stranger things that bite out here ...
Inside, your other passengers press gifts and prayers and blessings on the stranger.
Not this one. Not this time.
You arrive with an hour to spare!
You made it!
You did it!
Better the next day. If they can just get him to the next town, maybe --
And then you hear it.
The thundering pound of hooves coming up the pass.
For the Dead travel fast.
