| The forests were quiet, save an occasional rustle from a disturbed piece of fauna or a disgruntled murmur from a night animal, or one that had been awoken. Either way, it was quiet, peaceful, with the moonlight streaming through the trees from a cloudless night sky. The perfect evening, wouldn’t you think?
It had not been Talis’ evening, however. The urge for blood and to feed had risen again and he had been forced, as usual when this occurred, to sulk off into the forest, and feed off whatever poor person happens to be in there at that moment. That evening, that poor person happened to be a jogger, running through the woods for whatever reason Talis didn’t bother to stop and ask her for. She provided a meal, and that was that. Not only for him but also for the two mutt werewolves that were sulking around afterwards.
He found his way to the small clearing that, just a downhill’s way, led out of the forest and back towards the city. Leaning against a tree, Talis just stood and stared at the city lights, at the high-rises and skyscrapers that marked metropolitan Chicago. Living in the city made him feel worse about his situation. People in the city didn’t go out to the forests every couple of days or so, kill someone and use their blood as a life supplement, did they? No, they did not. He desired normality (as close to it as he could ever hope to get, anyway), which did not come from what he was doing.
Sometimes he wondered what would have been better: not being immortal and just have been staked somewhere along the line of the two hundred and fifty years he had been on Earth or just to be a ‘full-breed’, full human or full vampire. Anything had to be better than living between the two worlds; always with one foot on the other side to remind him he couldn’t live on just one.
At the sound of something in the distance, he turned and looked back into the forest, scanning the trees for anything or anyone that could be around. Seeing no one, he shrugged it off and looked back to the city. He used to be paranoid of someone following him, but, lately, it didn’t concern him. 99.9% of the time, it was just an animal or something. The other .1 percent? He’d rather not think about that experience.
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