It was silent durning this time of of night. No creature moved. The wind brushed through the quiet town and against the pale cheek of a young girl. She looked no older than 16. The gentle fabric of her dress was torn and moth eatten and her midnight black hair was filled with knots and tangles that would more than likely have to cut out. None of this mattered. Her eyes were settled on the tiny walking form that was coming closer to her at a very slow pace. Her soulless eyes never moved away from this single moving person.

A small smirk found her lips revealing a flash of pearly white fangs that touched her pale bottom lip. Slowly she began to move, her small delicate white slippers that adorned her feet making no sound against the slick pavement. The bumbling mortal in front of her never made a sound as she attacked. Her movements were quick and deadly as she bared the mans’ neck and sliced her fangs into the soft flesh. The sweet wine of his life slowly slipped away from him, and revived her old flesh.