Snow falls calmly onto the landscape of the French countryside.

The air smells fresh, like the sharp scent of dawn.

And upon the pure white snow, a trail of blood leads through the forest.

To a man surrounded by trees towering over him, as he repeatedly stabbed a man.

Not a man being stabbed, a vampire.

The living one has a few cuts and gashes of his own that he doesn't react to, and keeps drawing his dagger in and out, until he sure it's dead.

"Filthy."

The ravenette grimaces, still not reacting to the stinging pain he felt on his shoulder, side and legs.