Donovan Nevil, Chapter 1 part 2

I didn't finish chapter one, and I'm still not done with it.... I've been sidetracked over the last week or two, and I have been writing sparsley through the busyness and stress, and here we go, part 2 of chapter 1, there's no set amount of parts, but please, comment, and read part 1 of chapter 1 first.

Rexpennae

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Donovan struggled elbow deep in a pool of blood, he couldn't see what he was reaching for, but he could feel it. The venous surface met his fingertips in the dark cavern, and he breathed a sigh of relief. It had been more than three months since he had successfully recovered the heart of any of his deer, and he was now glad that the deer had attacked him so.

 He wrapped his ironbound fingers around the unbeating heart and pulled. Connective tissues gave way inch by inch, until at last Donovan Nevil pulled forth the heart of his foe.

 Donovan turned to the pond beside him and dipped the heart in, sliding it back and forth beneath the waters, cleaning the blood from it. Satisfied with his work he removed his massive hand from the water and raised the heart to eye level, this was always the hardest part, but the part that he needed to do.

 He shut his eyes, and took a large bite of the raw heart, chewing thoroughly before taking another. He tried not to taste, but as the rare nutrients in the heart began to work he didn't bother. They invigorated him, coursing extra strength through his massive body almost within an instant.

 Donovan knew he could live without them, but in his world, it was best to have as much endurance as possible. 

 He wiped his mouth clear of the bloody water that had gathered on his half-trimmed beard, and slung his gun over his shoulder. Donovan stooped to the ground and took a hold on the back leg of his kill, the coarse hair stabbing into every inch of his calloused hands. 

 Pocketing the empty shell larger than his knife handle he began dragging the disemboweled carcass to his current residence. He left a stripe of blood across both lanes the old 96 highway, empty as could ever be, and walked through a decrepit neighborhood development.

 Dozens of old duplexes barely stood against the biting wind. The overcast sky menaced what little it could, casting a pall over the late afternoon sun. The poor lighting served only as a damper to Donovan's already poor perception of this neighborhood, and it's sheer venerability. He would never stay there, he thought, not even if the rest of the homes in the small town were destroyed.

 At the next major road, only half a mile from the highway, he knelt down, and seized his kill by all four limbs, and heaved the body over this shoulders. He had to get the animal off the ground, it's blood trail would only lead other, more foul creatures to his door.

 He jogged the next quarter mile back to the house he was staying at. Long, thick vines covered the surface of the building, and Donovan let out a sigh, he could not stay here tonight. He laid the carcass on the street and took double strides to the front door.

 He threw open the door, startling the young woman sitting on the worn couch in the corner. She came to her feet in a heartbeat, and the book she had been reading fell to the carpeted floor.

 "Mr. Nevil," she cried, shuddering as his steely eyes fell on her, "Did you get food?"

 Donovan almost smiled at her delusion of simplicity, "Yes," his out of use voice growled, "It's outside, we cannot stay here tonight, gather your things, and your brother."

 She opened her mouth, Donovan presumed so that she could ask why, but a look of fear came over her face and she nodded. Donovan watched her walk into a room at the back of the hall before he went to the closet of his own room. Nothing hung on the racks, nothing lay on the shelves.

 He scooped up the hiker's pack on the floor, one could only guess at the contents of the bulging faded fabric stretched over a frequently repaired frame. With a cursory glance over the room Donovan left it as it was.

 He walked back into the living room, and stared out the broad picture window. Weeds grew out of what he remembered as a well kept lawn, the street was cracked wild flowers grew in the pits. He let a sigh from his mouth, and ran his calloused fingers through his less than kempt hair. Eyes closed he envisioned the world of old… but yet again his musings cut short.

 "Mr. Nevil." The girl's soft voice cut through his thoughts as a razor, "We're all ready to go."

 Donovan opened his eyes, and turned to the young woman. He brother, little older than 4 years, clung to her, laying his head on her shoulder. She carried their possessions in a small tattered pack on her opposite shoulder. 

 Donovan sighed looking upon the 2 so ill prepared. He silently walked past them and pulled a heavy woolen blanket from a closet in the hall. Taking extra care to cover the child completely, Donovan wrapped the traveler in the folds of the blanket.

 Her expression was halfway quizzical as Donovan finished his task.

 "It's cold," he said, answering her question before she asked, "Keep it wrapped tight, Lydia, now, let's go."

 Having let down the shade over the picture window he opened the door, to be hit by a blast of biting cold wind.

Tiny bits of ice were falling from the sky, driving themselves against exposed skin. Donovan had seen worse, but the situation was deteriorating faster than he expected. Although it was barely October sheets of ice and snow blocked everything from sight.

But Donovan continued, the scared Lydia closely in tow.

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