Meadowlark Prairie baby, you wouldn't last a minute on the creek

With each passing day's rise and fall, the need for blood grows only stronger. The beasts of the creek sated Zhenya's thirst for a while, though eventually, the craving for a purer line came back and this time, it has hit her stronger than ever. With her eyes peered and her ears pinned back, she creeps through the foliage on the prowl for her next meal.

There is another, though where exactly she is, Zhenya knows nought. Poking her head up to scan the horizon, she keeps her eyes open in an attempt to pick the prey from the thick layers of dry grass and piled snow.