Morgan Rice - Found

A child passed by Ruth and grabbed her back, yanking on her playfully, but too hard. Ruth turned and snapped, snarling and bearing her fangs. The child screamed, cried, and ran away. It was unlike Ruth to behave this way; usually, she was so tolerant. But it seemed the heat and the hunger was getting to her, too. She was also channeling Scarlet’s own rage and frustration.

As much as she tried, Scarlet didn’t know how to turn off her residual feelings of rage. It was as if something inside her had been unleashed, and she couldn’t reign it back in. She felt her veins pumping, the anger pulsing, and as she passed vendor after vendor, displaying all manner of food that she and Ruth could not afford, her anger grew. She was also beginning to realize that what she was experiencing, her intense hunger pains, weren’t just typical hunger. It was something else, she realized. Something deeper, more primal. She didn’t just want food. She wanted blood. She needed to feed.

Scarlet didn’t know what was happening to her, and she didn’t know how to handle it. She smelled a hunk of meat and squeezed her way through the crowd, right up to it, staring. Ruth squeezed in, beside her.

Scarlet elbowed her way right to the front, and as she did, a resentful man in the crowd shoved her back.

“Hey girl, watch where you’re going!” he snapped.

Without even thinking, Scarlet turned and shoved the man. He was more than twice her size, but he went flying backwards, knocking over several fruit stands as he fell to the ground.

He scrambled to his feet, shocked, looking back at Scarlet, trying to figure out how such a small girl could overpower him like that. Then, with a look of fear, he wisely turned and hurried away.

The vendor scowled down at Scarlet, sensing trouble.

“You want meat?” he snapped. “You have money to pay for it?”

But Ruth couldn’t contain herself. She lunged forward, sunk her fangs into the huge slab of meat, tore off a hunk, and swallowed it down. Before anyone could react, she lunged forward again, aiming for another hunk.

This time, the vendor brought down his hand, as hard as he could, aiming to smack Ruth hard on the nose.

But Scarlet sensed it coming. In fact, something new was happening to her sense of speed, her sense of timing. As the vendor’s hand began to descend, Scarlet found her own hand shooting up, almost without her, grabbing the vendor’s wrist right before he hit Ruth.

The vendor looked down at Scarlet, wide-eyed, shocked that such a small girl could have such a strong grip. Scarlet squeezed the man’s wrist, and tightened her grip until his entire arm started shaking. She found herself scowling back up at him, unable to control her rage.

“Don’t you dare touch my wolf,” Scarlet snarled back at the man.

“I’m… sorry,” the man said, arm shaking in pain, eyes wide with fear.

Finally, Scarlet released her grip, and hurried away from the stand, Ruth by her side. As she hurried to get as far away as she could, she heard a whistling behind her, then frantic shouts for guards to come.

“Let’s go, Ruth!” Scarlet said, and the two of them hurried off down the alleyway, getting lost in the crowd. At least Ruth had eaten.

But Scarlet’s own hunger was overwhelming, and she didn’t know if she could contain it any longer. She didn’t know what was happening to her, but as they walked down street after street, she found herself examining people’s throats. She zoomed in on their veins, saw the blood pulsing. She found herself licking her lips, wanting – needing – to sink her teeth in. She craved the idea of drinking their blood, and found herself imagining what it would feel like when the blood poured down her throat. She didn’t understand. Was she even human anymore? Was she becoming a wild animal?

Scarlet didn’t want to hurt anyone. Rationally, she tried to stop herself.

But physically, something was taking over her. It was rising, from her toes, her legs, through her torso, to the crown of her head and to the tips of her fingers. It was a desire. An unstoppable, unquenchable desire. It was overwhelming her thoughts, telling her what to think, how to act.

Suddenly, Scarlet detected something: in the distance, somewhere behind her, a group of Roman soldiers were chasing after her. Her new, hyper-sensitive hearing alerted her to the sound of their sandals slapping on the stone. She already knew, even though they were blocks away.

The sound of their sandals slapping against the stone only irritated her further; the noise mingled in her head with the sound of the vendors’ screaming, the children laughing, the dogs barking… It was all becoming too much for her. Her hearing was becoming too intense, and she was too annoyed by the cacophony of noise. The sun, too, was feeling stronger, as if it were bearing down just on her. It was all too much. She felt as if she were under the microscope of the world, and about to explode.

Suddenly, Scarlet leaned back, overflowing with rage, and felt a new sensation in her teeth. She felt her two incisor teeth expand, felt long, sharp fangs growing, protruding from them. She hardly knew what the feeling was, but she knew she was changing, into something she could hardly recognize or control. She suddenly spotted a large, fat, drunk man, stumbling through the alley. Scarlet knew that she either had to feed, or to die herself. And something inside of her wanted to survive.

Scarlet heard herself snarling, and was shocked. The noise, so primal, stunned even her. She felt as if she were outside her body as she pounced, leapt through the air, right for the man. She watched in slow motion as he turned to her, eyes open wide in fear. She felt her two front teeth sinking into his flesh, into the veins on his throat. And a moment later, she felt his hot blood pouring into her throat, filling her veins.

She heard the man scream, just for a moment. Because a second later, he was collapsed, on the ground, she on top of him, sucking out all of his blood. Slowly, she began to feel a new life, a new energy, infusing her body.

She wanted to stop feeding, to let this man go. But she couldn’t. She needed this. She needed to survive.

She needed to feed.

Sam sprinted through the alleys of Jerusalem, snarling, red with rage. He wanted to destroy, to tear apart everything in sight. As he ran past a row of vendors, he reached out and swiped their booths, knocking them over like dominoes. He bumped people deliberately, as hard as he could, sending them flying every which way. He was like a wrecking ball, out of control, hurling down the alley, knocking over everything in his way.

Chaos ensued; cries rose up. People began to take notice and started to flee, to jump out of his way. He was like a freight train of destruction.

The sun was driving him crazy. It beat down on his head like a living thing, filling him with more and more rage. He had never known what true rage was until now. Nothing seemed to satisfy him.

He saw a tall, thin man and he dove for him, sinking his fangs into his neck. He did this in a split second, sucking out the blood, then hurried on, sinking his fangs into another person’s neck. He went from person to person, sinking his fangs and sucking the blood. He moved so fast, none of them had time to react. They all slumped to the floor, one after the other, and he left a trail in his wake. He was in a feeding frenzy, and he felt his body begin to swell with their blood. Still, it was not enough.

The sun was driving him to the brink of insanity. He needed shade, and he needed it fast. He spotted a large building in the distance, a formal, elaborate palace, built of limestone, with pillars and huge arched doors. Without thinking, he burst across the square and charged it, kicking open the doors.