Grey clouds skid across a darkened Italian sky. The girl, Jane sees, is fumbling in the grass, obviously hoping to blindly light upon the cloth doll four inches to her left. How useful night vision was. She tilts her head, loose hair catching on her bottom lip, knowing the dull moon will never show her reddened eyes.
Jane smirks, a quick up-down of the corners of her mouth, when the girl finally looks up.
"My name is Jane," she coos, never breaking eye contact with her tiny, innocent prey, even as the girl rears backward, prize clutched in her fist. The girl's mouth works soundlessly for a moment, and Jane knows full well that such beauty in one her own age both terrifying and awesome to the child who could be her younger sister.
"Are you an angel?" she finally murmurs, the words revenant, and hesitantly reaches out to stroke the hem of Jane's pure white dress— a special gift from Aro, one that twirls around her knees and almost glows in the moonlight.
Jane feels the venom swirl around her tongue and bends down, brushing away the girl's fine dark hair from her collarbone. This is what she always does, lean in as though to share a secret when she truly seeks a fragile artery— but to her surprise, a real secret slips out instead.
"A fallen one," she whispers, and then snaps the girl's pretty neck.