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You ask me why? feebly as you choke on the blood in your throat, gurgling from the place where I bit your neck. Because I’m hungry, I want to say, but I know that makes it sound too simple, too undignified. I am a mother, I consider, but then I realize that you might be a mother too and that would just derail my hunt, delay this thing I must do. You see, I ponder the problem of moonlight every time my milk runs dry and the howls of hungry babes threaten to give away our hiding places. I love them with a ferocity that makes this bloodstained snarl look like a peace offering. Pray to whatever gods you wish; this is the way of nature. I am to you what you are to the rabbits and the birds and the deer and I can never be sorry for that. Please, you beg again and I know it’s time to put an end to your suffering. I survive because I am not afraid to bite the hand that feeds. I am ruthless because my children will not be the ones who go to bed hungry.᠅