"Please, Michael, slow down," called Georgia.
Michael's pace didn't falter as they made their way through the wooded hillside. The pair had been travelling for nearly three weeks on foot, making their way to a den north of the border, both clad in black jeans and hooded jackets. Georgia, a fledgling vampire, looked to Michael for guidance. Despite his protests the Coven had instructed him to teach the young girl how to survive, demonstrating how to hunt, feed and protect herself.
Georgia had been turned by a rogue vampire. As she walked home from the library on a cold evening in January she was brutally attacked and left for dead; a single bite mark could be seen nestled above her collarbone, a bite which would send poison racing through her veins. Michael had later explained to her that it was necessary to kill a human when feeding to prevent them from changing and it was seen as abhorrent for a female to become one of the nightwalkers. "You are simply a target; you are a danger to us all," he'd said.
Thunder echoed in the distance and the sky was as dark as ash.
"Michael!" She cried, coursing through the trees. Her petite, slender frame was dwarfed by the towering evergreens surrounding her. Loose strands of dark, flowing hair wrapped around her throat, clinging to her pale skin which was now moist with the effort of chasing after her accomplice.
Abruptly, Michael stopped and turned to look at her, his piercing, crimson eyes finding hers as she climbed over the immense roots that had surfaced on the ground beneath her. Rain began to fall, lightly at first and then savagely, yet the two young vampires made no effort to find shelter. The temperature dropped and a mist of warm air escaped Georgia's lips as she panted heavily. She stood in front of him, her hands down by her sides, her fists clenched.
