She stalks through the night, death all around her. She knows they're there. She senses them more than sees them. Hears them; smells them. She knows they're there. The taste of death fills her mouth but she doesn't react. Death is everywhere but she doesn't react. None of it matters because she is not dead. She is not dead and that is all that matters. There is no reason she isn't dead. No reason for her not to be dead. All there is, is a pure animal instinct to stay alive. She reacts with instinct. She fights off the death with instinct. All there is, is death, and she kills death. Her only purpose is to kill death. Unless death leaves her alone then her only purpose is to survive. Yet when death tries to kill her, her only purpose is to kill death. Because there is only ever one purpose. Never two. Just one. She must survive. Then she must kill death; and then she must survive. That is all there is.