Disclaimer: No, I still don't own it.

A/N: The book had Moira living before the Aztecs, but I liked the idea of her as an Aztec religious sacrifice, so I changed the timeline by a few years. Just to clear that up. Oh and sorry if my Moira's gone a bit Drusilla, I couldn't help it.

passes wolfdiamond a cookie

Chapter 2

(Moira opens her eyes; night has come again. Rainforest surrounds her, thick, knotted trees with luscious leaves blocking out the moonlight. This time, she likes the darkness, though the damp, woodsy smell is overpowering. She can see Fala, sitting beside her, watching and watching as though she has never seen anything more beautiful. Moira runs her tongue across her new, sharp fangs. She cannot remember ever feeling such a thirst as she does now.)

Moira: Why?

(She means, Why you? Why me?)

Fala: Because I saw you, and I thought of myself.

(She is not sure what she means by that)

Moira: I can smell them.

Fala: Who?

(The question is rhetorical; she knows the answer)

Moira: They smell like death. It's not right. I'm the one who should smell like death.

(She pouts a bit, and Fala laughs.)

Fala: You need to feed.

(She knows what she needs. She knows what she wants. There is power coursing through her veins now, and she has never had any power before. In life, she was like a sheep, or a goat, kicking and struggling but always ending up just where they wanted her. She was a number, a statistic, meant for everyone else's purposes but her own. When the new people had first come, she had ignored them, ignored them until they had said, we need a gift for the gods. She hadn't given a damn about their gods.

She hadn't given a damn until she herself was the gift, a cheap one, and they might as well have picked up a rock from the ground to give. But they would give her all the same, and that was when she had prayed to every god whose name she had every heard.

Now, she is the power, she has the control, and she wants to make them hurt. She is tired of being a sheep.)

Moira: I think I like you.

(She says it like she wants to add more, but doesn't.)

Fala: C'mon.

(Fala helps Moira gently to her feet, and they both sway a little, supporting each other.

Moira forgets gods and sheep, she forgets everything but the smell of blood, sweet and metallic, drifting lazily toward her; she follows it, weaving through the trees, Fala sharp on her heels. They are like a pair of panthers among the dense rainforest, black hair flying, creatures of the night, nothing to stop them.

There is a temple nearby, a stepped pyramid rising out of the undergrowth, a trail of ivy already beginning to creep up its stone sides. There is a half-built city forming behind it, a city that does not seem to belong, but they ignore it for the time being, approaching the temple like silent ghosts. A guard stands at its base, murmuring something quietly to himself, and Moira giggles slightly.

Fala starts for him, nodding Moira to follow, and then notices that the other has hesitated – whether from weakness or morality, she is not sure. She sighs, and the guard turns to see them. His eyes widen, but she grabs him from behind before he can shout for help, spins him around, kicks him where it hurts, and knocks him to the ground, holding him there with a bare foot on his neck.)

Fala: Wildcat?

(She is not sure what makes her call Moira that, but the girl responds instantly, leaping onto the man and drinking as though his blood is the elixir of life.)

Fala: Don't hesitate.

(Moira flips some of her still-knotted hair over her shoulder as she enters the temple. Her torn dress is slipping off, revealing more than she would have ever dared show as a human.)

Moira: Fala?

(Fala looks at her. In one fluid motion, Moira darts across the temple to a priest who has backed into a corner, and sinks her teeth into his neck. Fala watches approvingly, glancing around for more prey, but sees none.)

Moira: I don't like it here.

(She drops the dead priest, and Fala once again appreciates the bloody crimson of her lips.)

Fala: Me neither.

(And later that night, when Fala has lit a fire around the temple, consuming trees and nearby houses, so that the shouts and screams of everyone whom Moira once hated now are audible in the distance, Moira leans over and kisses her on the cheek with bloodstained lips.)

Moira: Look.

She lifts her hands to gesture toward the smoke-strewn sky.)

Moira: You've covered the stars.