Literature
In My Veins: Prelude
Pitch black night: it was thick and heavy, a blanket of darkness without the speckle of stars to comfort the sky. Each breath the hunter stole from the air, cold and stiff in her lungs, echoed in the silence that hung menacingly in the ears. It shouldn't have been this quiet, or dark. Not in the middle of the city, among the ever changing traffic lights, the speeding cars, the flickering street-lamps, the neon lights that slept through the day to wake as the sun set, and sleepless bystanders that swept across the sidewalks with unknown intent. But everything about her was anything but natural.
She could feel numbness seep into the victim's