Silverlight Terrace who first turned us to the ways of the beast

one terribly annoying aspect of living in the Between was that she still had to eat; Mildred had hoped that with death would come the end of having to hunt for every damned meal. it seemed most of her attempts ended in failure, and yet somehow she did not attribute this to her gauntness. rather, she believed her thinness to be another side effect of being dead, and that perhaps it was destined for only a small fraction of her hunts to succeed. 

nevertheless, disappointment still left her in the form of a ghastly moan when the mole she'd darted for disappeared beneath the earth. a great many things were disappointing, which resulted in, fortunately, a great many things to moan at. just for the hell of it, and because it was surely a requirement of a soul inhabiting the Between, another moan filtered from her maw. she'd grown remarkably adept at the perfect haunting moan, and perhaps some small part of herself was proud for it. 

it was the scent of a male that the ghoul picked up next, and she clung to his trail like a moth to light. she followed him without bothering to hide her coming, gaze settled somewhere on his rear when he came into sight, expression set in the haunting, forlorn look that seemed to come so easily to her features.