Of rats and werewolves - Kiyosa

[Kiyosa]

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"Focus" he repeated, his voice as steady and stern as ever, yet carrying that very distinct caring tone with it. A tone reserved only for her, as she had recently noticed. She nodded hastily, unable to keep her gaze away from the gradually unfolding scenery on the horizon. The morning mists, prodded by gentle strokes of warm sunlight, had began to slowly lift their veil from the surrounding farmlands, the end of the winding road ahead revealed: a majestic gate, and behind it, a cityscape.

She was focused...! As focused as anyone her young age, embarking on their very first adventure, could be. He must have noticed her absent-mindedness, something he had become familiar with as of late, for he simply chuckled while looking at her. "Enjoy this day, Kiyosa" he said with a smile, his tone now almost affectionate. "It will be a memory to nestle in your mind until the end of your days". She nodded again, giving him a smile of her own.

Unease crept up on her not long after they entered the small forest standing between them and Arabel's gates. It was no longer her excitement raising her pulse, but the mists within the woods. They seemed anything but eager to dissipate, despite the commanding presence of the new dawn. She could sense Master Taneleer's wariness grow by the minute as they pressed on. The grip around his staff became firmer and his gaze troubled, sweeping over the gloomy surroundings under thick, furrowed eyebrows.

"Take my hand!" she heard him yell. His voice sounded weirdly distant for someone who was right next to her only a moment ago. She immediately obliged to his command, stopping in her tracks to jolt her hand up and to her left, expecting to find the firm grip of his. Tracing nothing but the void, she felt a surge of terror rifling through her chest. Turning to look in that direction, she saw nothing but dim, milky strains of haze twirling around her slender digits.

"Master!" she yelled in return, her heartbeat almost deafeningly loud in her ears, hands waving around frantically in search of anything but mist. It felt like being pulled away by a disembodied force, her desperate attempts to close the gap between herself and the cries of her name useless. With every step taken, the mists kept thickening and soon, the sound of her hasty breaths was the only thing to be heard.

Suddenly a grunt. There he was! Further away than she had expected, struggling to get close himself. She caught one last glimpse of him a moment before the mists swallowed her whole; the stoic, white bearded face, the accented cheekbones, the pronounced nose and wrinkles resting along a wide forehead. And she would never forget those blue eyes, usually filled with confidence and wisdom, now staring at her wide open in sheer desperation...

Wet grass beneath her back. An unfamiliar night sky above slowly coming into view between long fingers of recoiling fog. Not so distant sounds of music and chatter....

The Vistani camp.

[Kiyosa]

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What a bizarre land this was... The overwhelming sensation of despair and fear hovering over it, suffocating. It was written all over the faces of those unfortunate enough to be trapped in it, like she was. The locals and guards at the outskirts of Vallaki, a town not far from the Vistani camp, were an unfriendly sort, led by prejudice and anger towards non-humans and those who wielded magic. The unjust, often brutal, treatment, received by her and her peers was always disguised as part of maintaining the order, yet it was that glint of hatred in their eyes that spoke the truth.

She barely had any time to come to terms with how or why she was abducted by the Mists, as they called it, before she was bombarded with an even greater load of information she was not yet ready to fully grasp. Apparently, she was no longer in Faerûn, or on Toril for that matter. The young and inexperienced mind made absolutely no sense of any of it. The more she researched, asked and read, the clearer it became that the chances of returning home were practically inexistent.

Loneliness birthed sorrow and, eventually, they both began dragging her into the dark pit of despair. She spent a week hidden in the temple of the Morninglord. She observed people talk, argue, bleed and cry, while desperately seeking a way to make peace with this new reality. No longer able to linger outdoors in anticipation of the sunrise eventually began to take its toll. A ritual kept since her fifth year of age, broken. The absence of her mentor's guidance left her vulnerable, miserable, something that would no doubt get her killed sooner than later.

Her weak attempts to earn some coins for food were swiftly proven pointless when she was cornered and robbed; twice within the following week, no less. She barely escaped the claws of a man trying to lure her away from the public area with promises of safety and comfort, but with eyes that betrayed his foul appetites. Starving and barefoot, she shed the final shred of hope on that dirty mat, the last leaf off a dying tree. She stood up and set off southwards into the woods that gloomy morning. The silent wish for the pain to end no longer sought relief in a meal or sleep. The local wildlife's hunger had become an option. A way out.

It was spring, the air pregnant with the promise of a new beginning. A few, yet so delightfully warm sunrays broke through the rich forest canopy to reach her face. The blue eyes raised their heavy lids to peer between the swaying branches as scents of grass, seed and animal plied her nostrils. That gentle caress of His touch was enough to remind her of all she had almost forsaken in those days of darkness. All the wise words, spoken and written. His teachings and her mentor's training...

It took a moment. And then another. An hour. A day.

Meditation.

[Kiyosa]

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Three hundred gold fangs! "Sewer-hunting", she called it. It was proving to be much more profitable than she had first hoped. Admittedly, the task itself was disgusting and arduous, but it was a much better alternative than letting self-pity consume her. The stench was vomit-inducing after walking those dark, narrow tunnels for hours on end, and the rat corpses in the sack used to become too heavy for her to cope with for too long. Yet, every time she made it back out of that well, dirty and reeking, she felt as alive as ever; the clean air greeting her nostrils and the few, but warm sun rays stroking the smudged face. Besides, it was nothing a nice, hot bath and a good meal couldn't fix. She could now easily afford both, while also practicing her combat techniques on a daily basis. The vermin wasn't much of a challenge, but they were enough to keep her reflexes and flexibility in shape.

She had also began to make new acquaintances. Her still recent experiences with robbers and other lowlifes had left her wary, yet with enough determination to not entirely shut herself away from those around her. Sir Ashan was one of the first people she came across. A tall, intimidating man from Faerun, never seen without his helmet, but with manners and a voice that felt distantly familiar.

Natham, the gentle druid, who had seen quite a lot of life, both in his world and in this one. He was a kind soul, too kind for his own good at times. His guidance was valuable, as he was one of the first to help her stand on her own feet by showing her nearby places, making her smile with a joke, or buying her a meal and drinks from time to time. A man many a woman would enjoy having at their side, caring and considerate.

Sir Oswin and Sir Jacen, two knights, so similar and yet so different from one another. The bond with them was easy to form, for they were two capable companions to learn from. During the many short and long trips taken with the duo, she began to realize just how wondrous this new land was. They helped her rediscover her adventurous side; a facet of herself she had almost forgotten. A delightful sense of humor, patient support and a lot of travelling.

There were so many people around her worth a closer look. Rudolph Lanz, the stoic priest with an uneasy mind; Angel, the sweet halfling girl with that special smile on her face; master Gurdan, the dwarf merchant with too generous a heart to even be one; Fade, the cheeky elf girl ready to help anyone out of a sticky spot. More and more people kept being added to them as time went by. With some of them she got along from the very start. With others... not so much. But isn't that how it always is? After all, one cannot like or be liked by everyone. She was content with her few friends, using the word only for those who truly meant such to her.

One careful step after the other, she began living again. With hope once more nestling in her heart, her frowns gave way to smiles, something those around her began noticing and admitted to enjoy. Her purpose was still the same: to evolve mentally, spiritually and physically and one day become her Perfect Self. Only now, it was refined, bolstered with determination and focus. She wanted to share this experience with those gradually becoming precious parts of her life. If there was no way back home, then by Lathander, she would turn this new, grim land and those dear to her into just that.

[Kiyosa]

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Dusk found them chatting at that serene location near the Outskirts she so used to enjoy. It had been a quiet day and the warm air was announcing a pleasant night ahead. Barely had the sun sank into the horizon when she felt Natham's left hand get an almost painful hold of her forearm. Turning around startled, she saw the back of his tensed shoulders, right hand holding the mace so firmly, his knuckles turning white. He took a determined step back towards her and hissed "You can't have her..." all the while shielding her from whomever was standing in front of him. Unable to see who that was, her mind wandered to a dozen places, guess after guess of whom might had approached them without ever making a sound. Whoever it was, they were blocking the narrow passage back to the Outskirts, water all around them.

A low, guttural growl filled the air in response to both her guesses and his words, the blood in her veins suddenly running cold to a skipped heartbeat. "Back!" he yelled now, lifting the dire mace with both hands and allowing a glimpse at the enemy. Icey blue eyes darted right at her as she came into view again, razor sharp fangs flashed in the crepuscular light to the sound of another, much louder snarl, a threatening step taken in their direction. The werewolf ahead was a lot bigger than any she had seen and with a fur as white as the snow. They both could tell it was a female and after her in specific, refusing to look at her companion once its otherworldly gaze had fallen upon her.

Natham turned his head halfway to whisper "Run..." never leaving the beast out of his sight as he did so. She was about to protest when he screamed the same word, lunging himself at it with a ferocity she had never witnessed in him before.

The way was cleared as the druid and the werewolf clashed. She hesitated, yet began running as fast as her feet could carry her only a moment later, instinctively reacting to another of his yells for her to flee. She had barely ran any significant distance when she noticed several dark figures closing in from the sides; figures that unmistakably belonged to wolves. Dozens of them. Panic saw her head eastward instead, hoping to find refuge in the tunnels beneath the farmhouse. The hidden trapdoor easily spotted, she hastily slipped down through it, jaws snapping right behind her in a cacophony of growls and snarls.

Exhausted and terrified, she realized that her blows were having little to no effect against the sea of undead, which soon flooded the tunnels right after Natham's arrival. Despite his admirable efforts, the cursed ones were pouring in to their location in unbelievably large numbers, as if summoned by an invisible presence. Terror took hold. She dashed away and began running through the deluge of rotting flesh, broken fingernails, rusty swords and decaying teeth marring her own. She climbed that same, swinging rope back up to the surface, the druid's distant yells still urging her to go back. Once in safety, and after having made sure the wolves were no longer around, she looked down at the walking corpses, senseless attempts to reach up to her soon ceasing.

The worst was behind her, she though. The mild, evening breeze slowed down her racing heart as she kept the trapdoor open, anticipating Natham's return at any moment.

A twig breaking directly behind her.

A loud yelp of horrified surprise from her lips.

A pair of blue eyes in the shadows...

Darkness.

[Kiyosa]

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Old parchment. Aged wood. A dying candle at the other side of the small room. Her hazed mind placed her back at the monastery, in Master Taneleer's study. The delusion, alongside the fleeting wave of relief, fragile, short-lived. It was dispelled the very next moment by numb pain in her bottom lip, swiftly ushering a greater one which punished the left side of her ribcage for every breath taken. Her white attire was dappled with blood, its strong, metallic taste filling her mouth. Sitting up against the wall, she stole a last look around before the candle finally died with a quiet hiss. There was a closed door ahead. Light was invading the slits of its frame, making it clear to the glassy eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. Fear of confinement defied the pain it took to rise and walk, a whimper silenced with gritted teeth as she slowly made her way towards it.

"What do you make of this?" a man asked, just as her fingers touched the handle.
"I don't know. It looks like a gift but one can't be sure with Her..." another male voice replied.

The pain became excruciating to a breath involuntarily held back. Leaning against the door, she slowly slid down again, trembling knees abandoning her.

"What if they come looking for her? Does He even know about this?" the man asked again.
"I sent for him as soon as She left. He should be here soon".

The two continued talking about a "lair" and "prey" soon after, their tone carefree and confident as they exchanged jokes about a "white rabbit."

A distant door opened and heavy footsteps went down a wooden staircase, bringing their chuckles to an abrupt end. Hushed words were exchanged as she crawled back to the other side of the room, curling herself in the cobweb-ridden corner, without once losing sight of the bright doorframe. After what felt like an eternity of absolute silence, the handle turned and the door opened, revealing the imposing silhouette of a man standing a little over six feet. A pair of yellow eyes swept over the room and came to rest upon her. The wide grin spreading across His features was the last thing she could see before the door closed behind Him, sinking everything into darkness once more.

"White... How fitting" he murmured, his voice thick with a Barovian accent, yet deep and quiet, as if he was listening to the world around him when he spoke.
"My mate has outdone Herself this time. You are quite the gift".

Petrified, she heard and felt him closing in, crouching in front of her, warm air exhaled against her face after a few sharp sniffs.

"You smell wonderful..." he hummed, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. The scent of the woods filled her nostrils; that of trees, leaves and dirt. A scent she knew all too well. His scent carried the faint note of animal fur and something else though... something she can't define even to this day. Something feral and alluring.

"....you will smell even better once I've made you mine" he added, nuzzling a trickling tear off her cheek.

"...and just when you think you have learned the way to live, life changes." Her mentor's words suddenly popped in her mind. He used to say, that each time an obstacle would present itself, forcing her to adapt, to improve, it'd be for the best. He kept reminding her that Lathander is, and always would be, by her side, making sure she endures whatever blows fate decided to deliver.

So that she could, one day, grow to be the most she could be.

Her Perfect Self...

Is this why she had survived for this long then? Only to become the feast for someone's ravenous urges...?

Exhausted and broken, she surrendered to him, feeling betrayed by both man and deity, uncertain of whether she would be kept alive to experience the day after.

Uncertain of whether she wanted to be.

[Kiyosa]

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"...look at her, Taneleer. She's weak. She will never survive long enough to even reach her tenth year, let alone become what you ask of her."
"The child is strong. She is simply unaware of it."
"What if you're wrong? What if she can't fight it back? Are you willing to carry the blame for her death should she perish under your wing?"
"She will not."
"Gods above, brother... LOOK at her!"

Silence.

A sigh laced in frustration. Slow footsteps nearing, then drawing away again.

"We were given the gift of clarity and the ability to guide others for a reason. Do not let personal ambition and fondness cloud your mind. Most of us fail in our first attempt to tutor..."

Silence.

Prayer beads rustling. A stave touching the ground.

"Lathander makes sure to enrich our lives with whatever experience is most necessary for our inner evolution. It's not pleasant, it's not easy. She stumbled and is about to learn how to rise again."
"I hope you're right, more so for your sake than hers. I wash my hands clean of this."

Silence.

Door creaks open, then falls shut.

Silence.

Silence.

A whisper...

"Fight, Kiyosa. Fight..."



"Kiyosa..?" Natham's calm voice found her in the depths of her slumber, gently tugging her away from it. It took a while for her eyes to focus on his worry-ridden face. It took the fatigued mind even longer to realize where she was. The low, sizzling sounds of the braziers nearby, the priestess' murmurs, the intense stare of her companions weighing down on her. The druid smiled at her, a gesture too strained to be authentic. "It's going to be alright now, my little flower. We got you back..." he murmured, placing a grubby hand on her forehead. His comforting words drowned in a sob as he hung his head to a quiver of his shoulders. A tear rolled down his cheek to the sound of a muffled whimper, betraying the sorrow hidden beneath his cowl. The druid's anguish was tangible and painful to witness. The small bits of quiet conversation around her, even more so. It hurt too much to stay. She drifted away into sleep once more, only to be greeted by visions of glowing eyes in the woods.

[Kiyosa]

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It was a loud, persistent bang on the temple's door that woke her up. A man was desperately trying to get in, pleading those inside to unlock it. Weirdly enough, and unlike any other such occasions in the past, all those standing behind it backed away instead of complying. It didn't take long for the man's begging to stop.

Whimpering. Then a scream of agony. The sheer force used to slam him up against the door threatened to unhinge it. Sounds of gurgling and cracking bones saw the people staring at it take another step back, their eyes widening in pure terror.

"You have my female! Give her back!" a booming voice echoed. Any man or woman having heard the yell could tell it didn't come from the lips of a human being. Too guttural, akin to an animal snarling, filled with malice and the intent to kill. There was no room left to doubt the sincerity of the threats to follow.

"Give her back, or more of you will die!"

A loud crash. Countless colored shards scattered across the floor as the man's dead body was flung through the right hand window, the nearby walls splattered with his blood.

Unlike all the rest, she knew this voice. It was his voice. The very resonance of it stirred something inside her, like no other.

Anger, sorrow and yearning clashed, the people around her still and silent, a collection of statues fashioned by fear. Looking at their terrified faces, she felt guilt join the battle inside her. This was her doing. Even if involuntarily so. It was her doing.

She said nothing, hoping for all this to simply... vanish?

A loud growl reverberated in everyone's ears, reaching down to her core and stealing her breath.

"I have the midget!" the voice now said. "Give me my female, or this puny one dies!"

And with that, silence sunk in the temple once more.

A most hasty glance was cast around once everyone recovered enough to resume murmuring, speculations about whom or what that might have been and, more importantly, who it was they demanded back. She knew. And the knowledge was killing her.

No one noticed her slip through the back door to run north.

[Kiyosa]

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The woods smelled different that night. They sounded different, too. For some reason, each cricket and sleeping mink were all the easier to hear. The calling was resonating deep inside her, blindly egging her on into the mountains. The halfling ran past her in panic halfway, rushing back to Vallaki yet, for some reason, the sight stirred no need to enquire or pursue. She was close. She felt it. She felt him.

Absent a warning or prompt, she halted by the clearing to look ahead, soon spotting his silhouette in the moonlight.

"There you are..." he mused, his voice tender, affectionate. "I knew a light incentive would awaken you" he added, now slowly approaching her.

There was no fear, nor anger left inside her. A few small steps, driven by nothing but yearning, closed the distance between them.

"They will try to break us apart. You know that, yes?"

His query was met with a compliant nod, her head kept low as he reached to cup her cheek.

"Years and years have we suffered their presence..." he continued, gently caressing the flushed flesh. "It is time we strike back."

Another nod, that new hunger inside her sated with each word and gentle gesture of his.

"They possess weapons we cannot match, my love. You... are my weapon" he began again. "This black powder they use. That is the answer. You can fetch some for me, hm?" he asked, head tilting to the side as a half-smile made its appearance.

"I can do that" she replied, daring a glance up at his eyes. Whatever it was she felt for him before, those amber hues of his made all the stronger.

"A barrel. No more, no less" he explained, his face now but an inch away from hers, all the while his right hand slipped around her waist. "And after that... You make sure to lead them all to me. Up this same path, into the mountains..."

Doubt didn't exist in this time and place. Neither did morals. She agreed with a firm nod, a kiss earned in reward.

[Kiyosa]

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Meditation was becoming a struggle. Sleep was being elusive. Thoughts... Some of them scared her.

"Trauma-induced anxiety" Rudolph said. He had taken it upon himself to regularly examine her ever since her ordeal. Making sure all was well physically, mentally. Emotionally.

Nothing was well. Something was changing inside and all around her. Where she never before regarded anyone with bias, let alone disdain or hatred, she now often caught herself giving the one or other person a glare, even for the smallest of transgressions, or none at all. Notions of harming them flashed by occasionally.

Nothing was well. Her eyes began hurting after spending more than an hour in the sun. Her hearing, several times stronger than ever, barely allowed her any moments of silence. She could hear mice in the inn's attic stomping like elephants and people's whispers from across the room murmuring words about her too hurtful to remember.

Nothing was well. She awoke in the middle of the woods one night, no recollection of how or why she was there. A shredded deer lay dead at her feet, her clothes, hands and chin bathed in blood.

Nothing at all was well. She was becoming very good at pretending, was all. And pretend she did, each and every time Rudolph asked. Lies. So many lies. There were moments when she felt like drowning, moments when she hardly recognized herself anymore. But she never spoke of them. Never spoke of any of it. How could she. The looks her companions were giving her already screamed of distrust, suspicion or pity. She hated it. She wasn't about to make it any worse by speaking the truth.

No one would understand.

Petty and simple-minded, the lot of them.

Only he understood.

[Kiyosa]

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A sharp sniff.

"You're the one..." the voice murmured. There was a measure of held back surprise and malice in his tone as his cold lips brushed against hers. “You belong to him...” He grinned, the light push of his thumb against her chin tilting her head back. She still didn’t recognize the constellations overhead...

“Should you survive, tell him that his insolence will no longer be tolerated. Tell him to cease expanding and retreat back north, or the den will be bathed in blood” he commanded. Red eyes traced her trembling lips, chin and jugular, to eventually reach the side of her craned neck.

A breath was stolen as blistering fangs sank into the soft flesh. The bite burned, drowning a scream into a whimper. A jolt. A hiss. Long, jet black hair whipped her cheek as his gaze snapped to the side, nostrils plied by his scent; dying roses and clean silk, a fresh grave.

“That’s enough!” The voice was familiar, unlike the strange night sky above. The Knight raised his sword, its tip directed at her captor. Whatever concerns swirled in Jacen's mind in that moment, they remained expertly concealed behind the furrowed eyebrows of a glare. “Let her go!”

Unfazed, the once-human licked the trickling blood off her skin, his eyes harpooned on her companion. An act of open defiance, followed by a mocking chuckle that filled the night with a different kind of chill.

“Walk. Away.” Slowly slipping behind her, he coiled his left arm around her waist, the petite form now positioned between the two.

“Let her go!” Jacen yelled again, a step forward taken in response.

“This is not the time or place to play paladin, boy...” the vampire replied, amused, each word carried by a quiet rumble. “Mother Night does not bend the knee to your ilk.” The hand around her neck tightened its grip, making a point.

Suddenly the predator’s shield, she stood still; hot, fast breaths misting the air. It took several moments of silence for the shock to eb, slowly making room for rational thinking. She still had the vial on her. For all the fun she made of Rudoph for suggesting it, she had kept it. Holy water. A mere distraction, no doubt, but perhaps all that was needed.

“Take me instead…” Brave though the Knight’s offer was, it summoned but another derisive laughter from he who opposed him.

“If a feast is what you wish to become, then I shall return another evening. Even still, I'm claiming her tonight” the vampire huffed.

A shaking hand plucked the small container from her pocket.

"LEAVE!" the monster bellowed.

Nimble fingers uncorked the vial, a fleeting glance directed at Jacen.

What followed happened fast. Glass breaking. A screech. The flapping wings of a bat. Dizziness. Jacen's threats screamed into the night.


The Outskirts were becoming a battlefield and neither side was hers.

[Kiyosa]

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The gnome inspected the small, rust-ridden contraption through his magnifying lens for a time, thoughtful hmphs as he spared the occasional glance at her. She had become an odd sight to behold for sure, more so around those parts. Thinner than usual and with eyes the color of ancient gold, she had crossed the City of Lights on her way back to his workshop, a trail of mud and turned heads left in her wake. Those once pristine whites bore tears and stains of dried blood, betraying the untreated injuries beneath and a gross neglect towards the city’s brilliance and her own self alike. The long stares no longer bothered her. Neither did the lies leaving her lips with increasing ease.

“Don’t ever hide behind pain. Truth and honesty, always, towards yourself above all others…” Master Taneleer's teachings had become distant memories from a dream, only rarely resurfacing anymore. He, too, had lied, her anger pointed out. There was no balance to things and no one cared about whether she was truthful or not. Heck, speaking the truth had only gotten her in trouble. And inner peace? Amidst the chaos that was life? Deluded ramblings of an old fool. None of it mattered. All that mattered was completing the task at hand.

Another ponderous hmph saw Gearling finally nod his approval and carefully store the item away. “One barrel, was it?”

She nodded, too fatigued to even attempt a smile. How or why his invention had ended up in the bowels of the Reaver cave was something she’d normally have asked about, but not this time. She was just glad to have survived its recovery in exchange for the gunpowder.

Hauling the barrel back to Midway proved to be a challenge. Her bleeding feet hurt and so did the deep slashes in her side and back. She was stopped by several travelling parties, some curious about its contents and others concerned about her wellbeing. The last one to do so hadn’t cared about either, yet took the trouble to pretend in order to impress the pretty girl by his side. Hurried words of mock reassurance were offered, her mind never once straying from the rapidly waning daylight.

The sun was just about to dip behind the mountains when she arrived at the dock. Wary, the ferry captain stuffed the offered coins in a pouch and turned to prepare his boat for departure.

It wouldn’t be long. He’d be waiting near the fishing lodge to carry it up the mountain. He’d lick her wounds clean, feed her a fresh kill and warm her with affection throughout the night. He’d be pleased and she’d be happy.

And so it was, if only for a single night.

[Kiyosa]

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“Why wait?” the voice asked.

She had no answer other than the obligatory "It's not right..." It no longer felt genuine. No longer felt enough of a reason. She was losing the fight inside her head more often than not. The questions had become louder, clearer. She was now certain they weren’t a dream. She could hear them while watching Rudoph, the druid and the two knights murmur, concern and worry painting their expressions.

Staying put during preparations proved to be a task a lot more difficult than expected. Watching people buy and sell in the Outskirts, drunkards exiting the Lady’s Rest at first light and travelers passing through on their way to wherever had lost its charm, had become irritating. Everyone leered at her with that same gaze bred of mockery and fear.

“Bite, rake, tear…”

Direct sunlight meeting her eyes was excruciating. It was only after dark she could see clearly. She spent most of her now nocturnal life at that same spot where all began, away from the nuisance of the temple and inn. A much easier location for him to find her, too. Keeping him away from the others, however, was beginning to feel less and less like a priority. They were merely humans, after all…

“Slice through the neck… Swift, painless..”

The vampire neared her on not so silent steps.
 
“I know of your struggle” he hummed, his eyes catching some of the moonlight as he directed them to the sky above.

“Yearning?” she asked.

“Hunger” he replied softly, the certainty in his voice absolute.

His brethren had withdrawn as of late, no rhyme nor reason behind the sudden cease of hostilities. It felt calculated, strategic, but remained something she couldn't peer through.

“Enemy…” the voice inside protested with a growl. She closed her eyes, pleading for silence.

It was as if he’d heard the inner dialogue when he traversed her form with his otherworldly gaze.

“Your offspring is doomed to never see life beyond the womb” he continued. “I could…” He paused and, for a single moment, she could swear his voice cracked. Was it sympathy? Compassion? Pity?

“Is it the sins of my forefathers?”

“If only it were that simple, dove…”

The flutter of meaty wings left her on her own once more. It was snowing. She wouldn’t have been able to tell if she hadn’t seen it. She didn’t feel the cold at all. She barely felt anything but that yearning. Intense, smoldering, capable of melting the glaciers up north to the ground, all in the blink of an eye.

“Mother…”