It had been two weeks since she had arrived here; since the cart, the Moonlight, and the market.  She was slowly coming to terms with the new schedule that she was meant to keep.  Every evening, they had breakfast.  It was always light conversation that had to do with what may, or may not, have to do with the goings on in the hamlet.  Then there was a break, her new mother would pull her aside for lessons until lunch.  Stature and presence tended to be the things that she focused on the most.  Then it was a simple lunch, one that mostly held her over until it came time for more lessons.  Thankfully this second batch usually was about conversation and proper eating.  But the sweets and snacks they consumed usually left her wanting.  Dinner was always hearty, both the meal and the conversation.  

This final meal of the day was the true glue that held them all together.  This father was nothing like her first father.  Hal had never truly been a hateful father but he never seemed to be present in the way that Vidar was.  In these private meals, he would openly, and often, ask for her mother's opinion.  It left her always looking forward to dinner.  That, perhaps if there was a topic that she could manage, she would be able to speak on it as she had with the stock pit.

While that opportunity hadn't arrived just yet, she was happy to wait.  The only thing that happened that was better than the time spent at dinner were the odd times that she was excused from lessons.  There hadn't been a great many moments but when it did happen, she found herself wandering the property trying to hunt what little small game she could find near the house.

Sitting in the grass around the back of the house, she listened to the night and tried to calm the urges inside herself.  The constant strain of the lessons on her mind and body had been overwhelming.  At no moment was she allowed to truly rest and be herself.  Even now, she imagined that her new mother was watching from somewhere quiet and dark.  Assessing her every move as she played and had time to herself.

There was a rustle to the bushes that caught her attention.  A man, a human man stood in torn and ragged clothing.  Cuts and slashes adorned his exposed flesh showing plainly that he had forced his way through the thicker parts of the forest.  He looked to be nearly middle aged, perhaps in his forties, with shabby greying locks.  There was a wild look in his darkly colored eyes and they seemed to pull the dark rage within her to the front.

She wanted to be scared, wanted to be calling out to her family.  But she couldn't bring herself to do either as the hunger and rage, which she used to vent upon Tekor, forced itself to the forefront of her being.  Bearing her fangs, she slowly drew herself up from the grass and growled as lowly as she could manage.  But like a kitten, puffed up and arched, it did little to deter the man.  If anything, it seemed to make him bolder.

She watched as the man scanned the area looking for something before stepping out towards her.  He stood there a moment before rushing towards her with his hands raised.  It was then that she noticed that the man was not unarmed.  As he drew his arms up, a thick branch rose as well.  The murderous intent in the man was palpable as he closed the distance between them.

A twinge of fear shot through her at the sudden change of circumstance.  Though she knew it wasn't the same, for some reason the wolf of her first night here pushed its way to the front of her mind.  How scared she had been and how Vidar had held her.  She felt the fear start to ebb and leave her mind completely.  With each step of his approach, she felt her fear wither and die until there was nothing but the fire and the need to hunt.

The man swung wide with his club and she dropped to all fours to avoid it.  The musty grass filled her senses as she clawed into the dirt for purchase to dart around him.  She had used this technique on Tekor more than once and it appeared this human was just as stupid.  As he recovered from the swing, she leapt up upon his back and bit deeply into his shoulder.  She felt her small fang scrape bone and it sent a powerful shiver of pure bliss down her spine.

The man cried out and dropped his club as he reached back to grab at her.  His first attempts were weak and missed the mark which only encouraged her to shake her head and tear at what flesh she tasted. His screams took on a new fevered pitch as his fingers knotted into her hair and pulled for all he was worth.  Between his strength and the pain she gave him, he fell to his knees as she was brought over his shoulder and launched into the grass a short ways from him.

The impact was hard and heavy as she eventually rolled to a stop.  Wet grass and dirt smudged her clothes and clung to her.  With a little grunt, she flipped over onto her front and stared the man down.  It appeared as though the attack had robbed him of what little strength he had had left as he knelt panting upon the grass.  One hand was pressed tightly against his shoulder in an attempt to stem the blood that was quickly beginning to stream down his front.

Just as she was readying herself to attack again Arius broke free of the forest's edge.  She had little time to react as he was upon the man and forcing his much larger frame into the ground.  A rope appeared from somewhere on Arius' person and was quickly placed upon the man.  Once he was secured tightly, Arius flipped the man over and hissed in displeasure.

"Of all the things..." 

She watched as Arius gave her a sideways glance of displeasure.  Kneeling over the man, he went to work trying to stem the bleeding before the man died.  It was a messy process of tearing off what remained of the man’s shirt and fashioning a bandage out of it.  Once it was thoroughly tied, she watched him stand up with a sigh.  

“Do you have a death wish?”  His words were blunt and laced with exasperation.  “Or are you just stupid?”

She wanted to reply to his questions but her voice was a whisper lost in a gale of anger and bloodlust.  The man’s blood was still in her mouth and she wanted more.  Launching herself at Arius, she meant to disable the thing that was taking her hunt from her.  The grunt he let out on contact left her smirking as they tumbled into the grass; her upon his chest, pressing him into the ground.  Her little hands wrapped around his throat and she began trying to squeeze the life from him.  But her little hands simply didn’t have the strength.  

His hands wrapped around her wrists and wrenched her hands free of his neck.  Crying out in frustration she lunged forward to bite him as well; anything to disable him.  There were flashes of Tekor in her mind's eye; memories and dreams of this moment.  Glimpses of his form pressed beneath her as she tore at his throat while he writhed and screamed in pain.  

But Arius was doing neither and it caused her pause mere moments from going in for the bite.  The rage and bloodlust ebbed and she pulled back to look at him as she continued to seethe.  The images continued to play out in her mind but now she could see the reality.  This was not Tekor.  This was the boy from before that had brought her here.   

And like that, the flame within her to fight, murder, and consume was snuffed out.  This boy had been different like Belor was different.  He did not deserve her fangs; not yet anyways.  His grip loosened and she slid off of him, wiping at her mouth to clean the man’s blood from her face.  

“Don’t bother, it’s on your dress too.”

It was indeed.  It was as though someone had poured a small glass of blood down the front of her.  She heard him sit up and adjust his clothes a bit.

“You’re pretty strong for your age, I’ll give you that, but you got lucky.”  Arius spoke plainly as he dusted himself off and checked for any further wounds to his person.

She couldn't speak just yet as she was working her way through what remained of her previous feelings.  There was so much to take in and process, she felt like she might snap again.  Each breath she took was heavy and labored as she sat there still upon the grass.  

There was little more that she could do other than watch as Arius moved to ensure that the human hadn't died in the meantime.  Seemingly assured that the older man would survive, he hauled the grown man up to his feet and steadied him.

"Do this again, and I'll beat you bloody.  I don't care who your father is."  

She locked eyes with him angrily but nodded all the same.  The boy had a point after all.  Belor had warned her that this wasn't like the place she had grown up.  That people here acted differently than what she would be used to.

With a nod, Arius dragged the stumbling man back to his cell in town.  She watched him closely as he left.  Every step he took seemed to help calm her as the scent of blood lessened around her.  Eventually it was just her, the grass, and the breeze once more.

Flopping out onto her back, she looked up at the stars and sighed softly.  The man still lingered on her lips but the desire, the hunger, for it had lifted and left her content.  The drive to hunt and take had been appeased.  Pent up anger from lesson after lesson had finally had an outlet of sorts and it brought her a level of calm she couldn't remember ever having before.  

She was alone in her thoughts for a moment longer before the grass beside her was taken up by the form of Belor.  He had sat without making so much as a sound.

"You've gone and done it now haven't you."  There was no real question to his words.  "Mother saw the whole thing."  He motioned to the second story window.

Her gaze followed Belor's motioning to the window where she caught sight of her mother in the window staring down at them.  The older woman had her arms crossed and had a look that bordered on glaring.  For all intents and purposes, Sasha was pretty certain her mother was angry with her.

"She's happy you sorted it out."  It came casually from him as he laid back onto the grass beside her.  "Even if she doesn’t look it."  His second comment came just above a whisper, meant only for Sasha.

She looked to him wondering why he was telling her this.  It was obvious that their mother, with her standards, was displeased.  Not only had she bloodied and dirtied her clothes, but she had damaged their stock.  

“Why are you lying to me?”  

His eyes, gentle and calm, turned and looked into hers.  

“I’m not.”  His words came with a smile.  “It would have been easier for everyone if he had killed you.  But you didn’t even take a scratch.” Reaching out, he gently wiped the last bit of blood off her cheek.  “We respect that, but it doesn’t change the rules.  At dinner father will give you a punishment, you will accept it, whatever it is.”

She searched his face for any hint that he was lying as Tekor used to, but there was no hint of subversion.  His words rang with a deceptive firmness that did not match his youthful appearance.  It was as though Vidar were speaking through Belor at the moment and it made her heart race at the eeriness of it.

He shifted in the grass and eventually stood before her.  "Go clean your dress and I'll see you at dinner."

Turning, he left her there upon the grass.  Looking to the second story window once more, she locked eyes with her mother.  Stiff backed and still glaring, the older woman held her gaze for a moment before turning and disappearing somewhere into the room the window was attached to.  

Gathering herself enough to stand, she looked over the simple dress she had been given to wear.  The fabric, worn soft through processing, had absorbed the crismon liquid wholly wherever it had fallen.  The result of which was nearly dried smatters and splashes of blood down the front of her.

Hoping to wipe some of the excess off, she took to wiping at her front. But that only seemed to make it worse as what little was still damp smudged across her front.  It was then that she noticed just how deeply the blood had seeped into the fibers.  Even when scuffed, there was still red beneath it.

An idea formed, slowly and hesitant at first but eventually becoming fully formed.  Would she need to hide the blood stains if her dress was blood colored?

A slow smirk crawled across her face as she began working out just what she would need and how she could accomplish it by dinner.  As she mentally tallied the objects her feet began to move to the kitchen; there were handpots and basins to gather. 

The kitchen was quiet when she finally arrived.  Neatly arranged and cared for, it smelled of cedar and pine sap.  Grabbing a stool, she dragged it to the counter and climbed upon it.  Carefully, she began maneuvering several handpots from their home on the shelves and setting them upon the counter.  Once enough had been lined up, she got to work procuring the basin from its spot beside the water barrel near the door. 

In her mind, it was as simple enough task as she placed the basin upon the floor.  Sliding her way out of her over dress, and her under dress, she stood there in her underwear.  One at a time, she filled the basin with blood from several of the handpots.  

Taking up her dress, she squatted beside the basin and began to dunk her over dress in the crimson fluid.  The fibers took up the color just as they had before and seemed to hold it tightly.  Pleased with herself, she gave it a few more pushes into the basin before standing and holding it up before her.  Excess liquid dripped and splashed to and fro on the floor and back into the basin.  

Feeling nothing but pride, she let it drip a little longer before dragging the stool from before into the draining closet.  It wasn’t as large as the one in the palace but there were hooks in it all the same.  Carefully, she found a way to hang it so all the rest of the blood could drip off of it. 

Knowing well enough that mother would not like a dirty kitchen, she went to work emptying the basin of the extra blood and cleaning it.  The whole kitchen had to look like she had not used it.  Being punished by both of her parents at the same time was not something she ever wanted to experience.

Later, wearing her underdress, she sat on the floor outside the draining closet.  She counted the time between drips as she waited for it to stop altogether.  The steady tempo helped ease her mind into a place where she could see the outcome of her choices.  No doubt mother would be impressed, father as well.  There would be no need to punish her at all at this point.  She had not dirtied her dress, she had made it better.