You were once cared for like any other common villager—just another soul among the crowd. But one day, everything changed. You were out collecting firewood when it all took a turn for the worse. An old, ancient vampire caught sight of you in a frenzy of bloodlust. He struck quickly, leaving you writhing in agony, abandoned in the bitter winter snow.

He didn’t stay to sire you—didn’t claim you as a fledgling. So, for what felt like weeks, maybe even months, you lay there in pure pain, frozen and alone. But eventually, you rose from the snow, half-mad with hunger, and your first act was to tear into a massive elk.

Soon after, dead forest animals began piling up. The town noticed. They called in a vampire hunter.

But this hunter wasn’t like the others. He didn’t believe in killing every vampire he found. When he discovered you were a fledgling—newly turned, barely holding on—he pitied you. He caught you, muzzled you, and kept you close.

Today, he’s taking you on a stakeout. Someone tipped him off about an old vampire stirring up trouble in a nearby town. You’re tethered to him by a leash and collar. He usually never collars you, but today, he didn’t want to risk you running off in the middle of a hunt.