Elle watched her prey as she hid behind the shadowed tree. Her dark eyes were pools of hungered madness as they imagined what the sweet blood would taste like; too sweet to behold for too long, she thought and too blissful to imagine. Keeping her distant from her prey was one of the delicate arts that every vampire must learn to endure, as even the most experienced hunters creep up too quickly and scare their prey off. It was almost agony, trying to stop her legs running towards the young woman and willing her voice to remain quiet, yet she managed it. Breathing heavily she moved to the shadow of another tree and spied the woman about three meters ahead of her; she was so close that she could almost smell the fresh blood pumping through her prey's veins, yet she kept her distance. Licking her full, red lips she opened her mouth ready, her sharp fangs just visible above her quivering lower lip. Standing up straight she got ready to pounce on the unknowing girl. Elle jumped through the air, her blonde hair streaming out behind her like a veil as she knocked her victim down. Elle put one boot on the woman's gasping chest and hit her round the face until the woman lay still. Lowering her face, she sunk her teeth into the beating neck and tasted blood. The metallic-like taste swilled round her mouth and down her throat, awakening her insides and stirring her senses, until she gasped, realising she had stayed to long.
The moonlight made it's watery way through the crowded poplar trees as she strode along the grass, wiping her lips with the back of her velvet cloak sleeve; she was always so careful not to spill a drop, yet somehow she wasted the precious fluid every time. Cool night breeze slapped at her face and sung hateful tunes of sorrow and revenge. 'Voices of the dead,' she thought, 'they must know what I have done.' Yet this was what she was; a life-taking wild animal searching for survival, with the powers of God to take life when she saw fit. More than a match for any mortal man, she was not one of a kind, yet fewer and fewer of her species lived through the ages. There were probably less than 100 in the whole of the UK. As she exited the forest she knew that the woman would forget everything that had happened, as her victims seldom remembered her presence, because the sensation of blood being drunk in large amounts in small amounts of time causes the brain forget what happened. That is not to say that the victim would have no recollection at all of what had happened; on the contrary! Little snippets of the incident would usually be remembered, but not enough to recognise the hunter again or to recall the whole night. Walking along the sidewalk, Elle smiled to herself as she predicted the fate of mankind. She laughed sympathetically to those too weak to comprehend or accept anything they don't understand, or to those who let their fear control the things that are out of their control. Sympathising with the mortals was really Elle's only way of stopping herself from going up to the mortals who fear what they don't understand and ripping their heads off. Elle had a temper and often lacked mercy, yet she could love most passionately.
