He licks his fangs, watching a woman sitting on a towel across the pond. She’s singing to herself, an unfamiliar song she’s struggling to remember the words to. She shakes her head, her wet hair moving wildly and droplets of water fling free. Then she stops moving her head, bringing her hands up to her hair. She takes a hold of her wet hair, wringing it out. It gives him a perfect view of her beautiful neck he could so easily take a bite out of. He tunes his ears to the tantalizing sound of her heartbeat already tasting her delectable blood. To his side, he feels a push. Almost falling, he catches himself preventing the reveal of his hiding place behind medium-sized bushes.

“Don’t even think about it.” His assailant and sister warns, her tone reminiscent of a buzzing fly.

“What?” He says, annoyed that she always ruined his fun. “We haven’t had a drop of blood for days so don’t tell me you’re not hungry.”

“Course I am, but I’m also not stupid.”

“What do you mean?” He counters, his eyes still on his target.

“A beautiful woman sitting by a pond singing to herself but also weirdly pulling her hair up so her neck is on display. This doesn’t seem suspicious to you?”

“Suspicious how?”

She rolls her eyes. “Brother, look at her hands. What do you see?”

He narrows his eyes. “Callous fingers, maybe she plays an instrument.”

“Or she’s a vampire hunter, idiot.” She chastises.

“A hunter?”

He thought hunters were extinct or just urban legends older vampires told but they’re real?

“Yes, a vampire hunter. It’s a trap.”

“Who knew hunters could be so beautiful,” He comments, still enamored by the woman.

She scoffs. “Stop staring, she’s not yours you fool. We need to figure out how to get across this pond alive!”

“Well, we are already dead,” he jokes, earning a poisonous glare.

“If she’s here imagine how many others there are?”

“She could be alone.”

“Vampire hunters never hunt alone. They’re much like werewolves and witches in that way.”

“So what do we do?”

“Give me time to think.”

“Can you think quicker? I’m hungry and need to bathe.”

“Stop whining. You want me to think of a plan, don’t you?”

He starts to complain again but quiets himself.

“Alright, we’ll go back, turning left this time.”

“Finally, you make sense.”