The mist rolled over the cliffs.....

Prompt: The mist rolled over the cliffs, filling the valley below

The mist rolled over the cliffs, filling the valley below. The sounds wafted up the cliffs with the baaa’s of sheep and the voice of the shepherd, smells of animal and human intermingling. He awoke with the damp scent of flesh filling his nostrils.

Slowly he poked his head out of his hiding place in the rocks: sniffing, listening, looking for movement. The sun was lowering behind the farther hills, the darkness spreading quickly as the last of the sun’s rays were obscured with mist. It would be another night of smelling fear, another night of filling the hunger growing inside him.

Only a short bit of time was needed for him to wait until he would blend in with the darkness. No one would see him; the mist would confuse the senses of man and animal. He had only to wait.

The calls of the sheep told their every movement to ears that were designed for searching the darkness. Turning his head from side to side he honed in on the location of the herd, knowing his prey wasn’t far. He had taken this place of refuge, instinct instructing him to stay downwind of the trails. He would be careful not to travel past the scents. Nothing must alert his captives to his presence until the last possible moment. He knew the shepherd would carry some sort of protection, having once been careless and feeling its sting. He would not make that mistake again.

The air was a gray hue when he stood and crept into the open. As a precaution, a sweep of the surrounding area would have to be done before leaving the safety of the rocks. His sharpened senses would alert him to any danger he may have missed before. It was not common for stragglers to come over the hill once the mists have settled, but would be dangerous if the possibility was ignored.

Sensing nothing more than his target, he turned toward the source of nourishment, again taking in the scent of what will drive him forward. On silent limbs he started down the cliff, spotting the loose rocks that lay in his path. These would not be disturbed as he made his way down to the valley below. His vision had honed itself over time to see acutely in the dark. This was also a trek he had made many, many times before in search of food. He will remain here for as long as food can be readily found and hunting parties don’t come for him.

Putting his mind back to task he continued down, weaving his way this way and that as the bleating began to quiet down.  This, he knew, meant that the shepherd would soon be creating a fire against the cold and mist.

Hastening his steps, his mind cautioned him about moving in too quickly. This is where he had made his past mistake that had cost him more than just a meal. In the silent air around him, he must remain just as silent. The pain of an icy blade was something he had no desire to feel again.

He moved as though flying across the distance, the ground passing soundlessly underfoot, his hunger growing as the smell of flesh became stronger. He was getting close. Sight was not the only instinct he relied on when on the hunt, not until he was close enough to choose his victim. Vibrations on the air could tell him much about his surroundings. Whether wrought by God or demons, the survival instincts that were a part of him would lead him to his kill; he only needed to concentrate on the hunger, which grew with every step he made.

He came to a stop a short distance from the herd and looked around, sizing up the animals and any obstacles that might stop him from his quest. The shepherd would not be far, he knew, and nothing could be done until he was located. Raising his nose to the air, he sniffed. The only scent that reached him was that of the sheep. This meant that the human had taken refuge on the other side of them. This was not the ideal situation for him; he could not make his way through the herd. Any disturbance from them would alert the man to danger and weapons would be drawn before he could be reached.

As hunger gnawed at his stomach, he crouched on the ground, listening. He needed to locate the human. If a fire was allowed to be built then all his efforts will be for naught. Fire was the one thing that frightened him.

Slowly he crept his way to the right, staying only as close as he dared to the herd so that he couldn’t be heard or smelled. It was slow going as he attempted to remain as low to the ground as he could. When he was about half way around them he stopped, again listening for any sound of the human.

It wasn’t long before he heard the soft scuffing of a shoe and his head turned immediately to the source of the sound. Raising himself up to his full height, his eyes quickly scanned the area from where it came from. It was no more than about ten feet from the edge of the herd.

Feeling his mouth beginning to salivate, he ran his rough tongue against the fangs that would soon rip into flesh. His mind flashed back to his last taste of blood, fueling his desire for more. The taste, the smell of it is what he lives for. The violence, overpowering his victim and feeling the fear radiating in the air are a bonus. He is an animal and animals must feed to survive.

Allowing himself to give in to the wild instinct of insatiable hunger, he prepared his attack. He now knew where all the factors involved lay. The sheep were huddled, their weaker links to the center. The shepherd was alone, far enough from the pack so there would be no interference. They, foolishly, were far from their village and would not receive assistance.

The time for taking his prey was at hand. There was no turning back nor was there any desire to. The hunt was almost done. Satisfaction will soon be his.

Again he crouched as low to the ground as he could and still move toward his victim. Slowly, accurately, he moved, silent as the breeze. His eyes no longer had the worry in them, all his concentration was on his coming meal. To the edge of the congregation of sheep he crept, being careful so the animals couldn’t smell him.

Then his opportunity came. The human, he saw, had moved to take one last check on the sheep, a major mistake. This closed the distance between them by a few feet. As a demon springs from the earth, he did as well. He was at a run by the time he was to his full height, as lithe and fast as a cat.

The impact was immediate. The human had no idea what happened as he was taken hold of and knocked to the ground, barely having time to make a sound as the wild eyes looked down on him. The beast would wait a moment to feel the fear, but only a moment. Longer than that and the man may take hold of his senses and reach for the long knife strapped to his side.

Fear he did feel as the shepherd realized what had attacked him. There was no mistaking the look of realization in the man’s eyes, his mouth trying to form the word ‘Vampire’. But before a sound could be uttered, he opened his mouth and exposed the fangs hungry for flesh. In the next instant those fangs were sinking deep into the neck and artery of the shepherd and he was drinking in the food of life. This indeed was a night for a feast.


Word count: 1337