Seasons passed. The band grew. Some of the humans who followed them, the strongest and most vicious, were turned into monsters as she had been. And though Saraal was raped nightly, she never grew heavy with child. Kuluun made children his own way, picking the humans who pleased him most to turn into Sida. The new Sida were given the fattest captives to drink while Saaral was fed just enough to keep her alive. This was the way she learned that the best blood made the Sida stronger. She was never given the best blood.

As the new Sida were made, Saaral was given to each in turn. She was long past protesting their lust, even feebly. She lay nightly as the monsters took what they wanted of her body, then tossed her back to Kuluun’s tent like a dirty skin. If he had no other task for her, she was bound until the next night. Usually, she was put to work washing their blankets or cleaning their tents.

Saaral no longer thought of herself as human. She didn’t remember the name her mother had given her. She didn’t recognize the land they passed through. One day, she looked into a river on a moonlit night, noticed her reflection, and realized that she still looked the same as she had the summer after her son was born, though she’d seen more than ten winters under Kuluun’s hand. The only difference was her eyes, which were some light color she barely recognized. She couldn’t see clearly in the moonlight, but they were not the rich brown her human husband had admired.

Saaral was not surprised. She was no longer human. She was a monster, too.

She looked over her shoulder at one of the humans near the fire, her eyes seeing clearly in the dark.

Though she was thin and weak for a Sida, her senses had been honed. She no longer clenched hands over her ears when the animals were near. Her stomach did not turn at their scent. She had become accustomed to her new body, though Kuluun limited her to pony blood, keeping her just short of starving, so she did not become too strong.

But though she wasn’t strong, her senses were as keen as any other Sida as she watched the human.

Saaral remembered laying with him when he was only a young man, his black hair thick and shining in the lamplight. He had not been as cruel as some. Now, there was grey in his hair, and his shoulders were stooped. Soon, she knew Kuluun would give him to one of the new Sida, who would drain his blood until he was only a husk.

She put down the clay dish she was washing in the sand near the riverbank where they had camped.

The man looked up. “Saaral?”

She didn’t speak, but crouched down in front of him. She lifted a hand to his temple, tracing the silver she saw there as her eyes dipped to his neck.

“What do you want, Saaral? You know that Kuluun told the men not to touch you without his permission.” A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

Saaral still said nothing. She never did. As far as most of the men knew, she was mute. Kuluun was the only one who had heard her speak because he forced her to ask him for her nightly ration of pony blood. He liked to hear her beg, and blood was the only thing Saaral would beg for.

But now, she wondered why.

Why beg, when she could simply take it? She might not have been strong for a Sida, but she was still far stronger than the humans. There was no one around to see. Neither Kuluun nor his brothers was even close.

She leaned forward in a crouch, letting her senses absorb the delicious scent of fresh human blood. Her fangs were already down, aching to bite.

“Saaral?”

She wished he would be quiet. She had no desire to hear him talk. Or cry. Slowly, she brought her eyes to his. Then she put a finger over his lips and whispered, “Tssssshhhh.”

The rough sound left her mouth like a hiss. The human’s eyes widened for a moment, and he opened his mouth to speak. Saaral clenched her hand around the nape of the man’s neck, and she felt it.

Like a current of air, her will caught his and held.

Quiet.

She thought it, and the man fell silent. His watery gaze was locked on hers.

Interesting.

Give me your neck.

He leaned forward, offering up the wrinkled skin to her mouth. Saaral bent and took.

As the rich blood hit her tongue, the human arched his back and let out a grunt of pleasure.

She pulled her mouth away and scowled. She had no desire to please him. Had this human cared about pleasing her when he’d used her body like a vessel? Her hand tightened on his neck as she remembered the terror of her first years in the camp. The man’s grunts of pleasure turned into whines of pain. His mouth dropped open, so Saaral sent the thought again.

Quiet.

He said nothing, frozen in fear. She took his neck again, taking gulps of blood fresh from his body. Live blood. She could feel her body grow strong as the old man grew weak. Her energy mounted. Her senses came alive. She could feel tiny currents of air teasing her skin. Her hair. The night wind caressed her body with eager fingers. Her skin grew flush and pink as she drank.

The human’s heartbeat slowed.

Then stopped.

Saaral looked down in disgust. Surely he had more blood than that! Her hungry eyes swept the creek bed, only to see that none of the other humans was about. In the back of her mind, she knew Kuluun would not be pleased, but she ignored the fear for a moment, reveling in the rush of energy and strength. For a moment, her toes left the ground, and something she thought might be laughter bubbled in her chest.

Then her feet came back to earth, and she cocked her head, considering the lifeless human body that lay in the dirt. She bent down and threw it over her shoulder. Jumping easily across the stream, she worked her way back into the brush where the branches of the trees grew thick and no goats could graze. Then she found a small clearing and stopped. She tossed the old man’s body to the ground and began to dig.