Another gloomy day overshadows the rainy town of Forks.

Sleep evades me as the shadows of the night begin to recede out of their place from previous hour when light only started to arrive to make day.

The birds outside flaps its wings ready to find its feed. I should also do the same.

I dress myself into waterproof gear and hasten my way out of the house.

The misty morning air lingers at the tips of my hair as I feel them moistening towards the roots. My boots glide themselves on the layer of dew covering the vegetation as I journey towards the heart of the woods, looking for feed.

I pass many before I settle for the kill.

Many creature passes my way and runs away from me before I settle myself for the one that would sate me for this time.

A mellow fawn resting by the river and taking water from stream.

I pause to observe which way to approach.

Instinct could easily take over, but I restrain myself, knowing that its life force is about to be stolen away from it and there is no need to be hasty. Before it knows what is good for itself the animal steadies itself on to its four brittle limbs.

The deer runs from its spot in the edge of the soggy mud and stubbornly tries to run away. It knows that it will not outrun from its predator, but instinct and reflex is encouraging the act of flight from unknown danger.

The way to end the fawn's suffering is to do it quick and not play with the rhythm of its heart.

Do it before you give it hope.

Before I give it hope that it is succeeding in its escape, I run towards it, though I make sure that I don't hover in the air to alert it to its death. Tension is everything it does not want right this moment.

Before the mild animal have the chance to think, my fangs sink into its pulse as I greedily stroke the fawn hoping it would find peace soon enough and forget that it has been a victim.

Hoping that it doesn't have to be this way.