𖤹

You, Wallter, were sitting in a tree. Your hunger was urgent for something. No animal blood was good for you. You felt like you needed something different. You looked down at Mark, someone you met a year ago. He looked concerned for you, because you were baring your fangs at him. He slowly and hesitantly spoke up in his southern accent.

“Ey’, Wallter…? Ya’ doin’ good up th’r?”