For months, Thora had moved through the land, Sometimes staying in the forests, other times the villages. Both held nourishment, one for her hunger, the other for her thirst. With her skill at trapping and snaring, she never went hungry. But no matter how much she ate, she could not sate the Thirst. No, she could not. Every now and then, she found herself irresistibly drawn to a village or town, simply to sate the Thirst. She hated it. And she loved it. She never felt as alive as the day after she had had her fill. But the Thirst could not be controlled. If she stayed too long in one place, it inevitably took control. She had learned that lesson many times. She had had to flee just as many times.
She hated the Thirst. She loved the blood. The silky, pulsating, warm feel of it flowing in after she sank her teeth into her prey. There was nothing like it in the world. Of course, she had grown rather good at fleeing. For some reason people did not like it when their friends or family turn up dead. It was not as if she could help it. They were there, and they tasted wonderful. It was the way of life. But tell that to a grieving villager and see how far it gets you.
Ever since fleeing home, Thora had found herself steadily changing more and more. She could feel her body stretching, as if her very flesh wasn't enough to fill it. Deep in the forests, she had seen in moonlit pools how her limbs were changing. She loved the look. She hated the feel. The more she changed, the more stretched she felt. And then there was the sun. It hurt. Its glare made it hard to see. Her cloak helped, but even without direct contact, she found herself increasingly discomforted by it.
More than anything else, she did not understand what was happening or why it was happening. Nothing she knew could explain it. She dared not ask anyone, for she was sure any would see how different she was and hate her for it. People always hated those who weren't the same. She'd seen it all the time back home. Thus she withdrew from society, preying upon its members, but never joining it if she could avoid it.
Eventually her path led her to the city of Amaryth, in the Kingdom of Othea. Not that Thora knew this. She had never learned about the world outside home, nor could she read her name, let alone roadsigns or scrolls. For that matter, she did not care for knowing that either, so long as she was neither hungry nor Thirsty. Her life was simple.
Deep inside the city, she had made her way to the largest unguarded building she could find, concealing herself up inside its rafters, where there was hardly any light. Just the way she liked it. None of the hated sunlight. She stayed there till well after dark, only then moving outside to find nourishment. After a few days, it had become clear that cities were much better, despite the crowds. No matter how she fed, people did not take notice of it. When there are a few dozen living there, one or two missing is immediately noticed. When there are thousands, no one cares. Little did she know that the building she hid in during the day was the Royal Otharion Theater. It was only on the night before the day of the coronation that she figured out something like that, for then they started posting guards. She was stuck, with no way out. She hated it. But she loved the darkness. It comforted her.
