How many times had she done this before, hearing the splatting of warm, viscous liquid on stone and metal rending flesh to pieces? She did not care for the blood now staining her feet and hands, or even the ratty and dirty clothing. She ignored the cries for mercy as her feet moved forward as if by their own accord, dispersing the blood further as the scent of iron and copper filled the room. The weapon she held was so very simple, it was small, no more than a foot long when including the worn leather grip. The blade itself was short, dull and seemed to be painted many hues of red, from dull and old merlot, to fresh scarlet and crimson. Her skin was just as dirty as the crude stiletto she held.

            Her target seemed to be tenacious. They had yet to die from the loss of blood and continued to beg as if they were a mere dog. At last, her footsteps halted, and she stood in front of the nameless person in front of her blurred vision. “Tell me, why should I spare you when you had attempted to steal what little money the orphanage had?” she murmured in a sotto voce as she got down on her haunches and stared at them, tired cinnabar color eyes peeking through dirty hair and lashes.

            Something about this person had caught her attention; unlike the others she pierced with this blade, their wound had already closed, and they still lived. Her target stilled, looking at her in confusion before seemingly turning pensive as they pondered how to answer. She cleaned the blood from her hands, slowly licking it away as she pondered something herself. ‘Ichor, such a fitting name… don’t you agree little rabbit? Wherever I go, blood follows eventually.’ Came the flowing thought as the warm copper slid over her tongue and down her throat pleasantly. Yes! Came the concurring cry from the shadows.

            “I-I can get you a job at the new local cotton mill!” her target finally stammered, and she became aware that the one she had gone after was a local cotton mill worker, a female at that. Ichor tilted her head to the side, pondering her choices. “There’s a warm bed, clothes, bathing, and food guaranteed if you work at the mill!” came the girl’s hurried continuation. Ichor’s mind paused, all thoughts about the money forgotten at the mention of food being guaranteed. She blushed as her stomach answered for her and she sheathed her blade and hid it under the rags masquerading as clothes. “Promise?” Ichor asked childishly, eyes wide as she stared at the female in front of her. She got a rushed nod of the head in reply.

            “My name is Elizabeth,” she trailed off in fright, unsure of how to ask the creature in front of her what their name was. “My name,” silence reigned over the room for a few moments, “is Ichor.” The creature stood up, “is it dark inside of the mills?” Ichor asked softly as she helped Elizabeth up, it was a bit awkward though as she had not touched a living person in such a very long time. “Yes, it is…” Elizabeth trailed off before a look of panic crossed her face “no, no, no! I’m going to be late for curfew!” without thinking, she grabbed Ichor’s thin, boney and dirty wrist in her larger hand and ran off, disregarding her safety when Ichor had growled, or the whimper when she was exposed to what very little light there was from the setting sun. Ichor’s world spun before everything went black.

Ichor was a being that many did not believe existed; a Rhyfelkova.

            It was too quiet, silence reigning throughout the bleakness. Ichor could not hear the dripping of viscous liquid, or the puffing and panting of breathing in frigid air, nor the pounding of her heart and blood. She could not feel anything- it was as if she was floating in a void. Perhaps… was she dead? No, that would be ludicrous!

            “Maria! I need some help please!” came a panicked call from far off into the void. Was that the voice of the aliment she had failed to attain? Her train of thought came to a staggering halt as she felt the unpleasant heat on her skin, and she opened her eyes to a glaringly bright room. She looked around slowly in confusion, blinking multiple times in an attempt to clear her sight.

            “Ah! She’s awake!” came a new voice, it seemed slightly calmer than the chipper aliment- Ichor paused, clearing her thoughts and correcting herself. ‘E.. liz..a.. beth…’ she mentally mumbled, looking around in confusion before realizing that she had been tucked into a bed with a something wet on her forehead. ‘Wait, bed?’ Ichor thought as she abruptly became alert, the world coming into startling focus as she jerked, tossing herself off of the bed and towards from the unknowns, her lithe body pulled into an offensive stance and her breathing became alarming slow- was she even breathing? Elizabeth could not tell.

            Ichor gave a sonorous growl, blood crusted teeth and gums bared, her crude stiletto seemingly materializing in her hand as she pinned Elizabeth to the wall by the neck and the other pressed the knife threateningly against their jugular. Her feet were spread apart so she could not be toppled easily, arms poised so that her prey could not shake her grip. Her pupils were blown wide, nearly eclipsing the poisonous cinnabar.

            “Come on now Ichor,” came the hysterical voice of Elizabeth, “it’s okay, no one here is going to hurt you, it’s safe!” she was attempting to free herself from the surprisingly iron like grasp of the creature before her. Elizabeth’s golden tanned hands uselessly clawing at the arm of the monster.

            A guttural voice spoke, so similar yet frighteningly different from Ichor’s. “Where am I?”  Ichor asked as she slowly released her grip on Elizabeth, moving slowly and deliberately as if she were a predator in a house filled with prey that she could pounce on without so much as a moment’s notice. Though Ichor had yet to remove the crude stiletto from the other’s neck. Had Elizabeth brought a monster to this place? What had she cursed this place with?

            “You’re at Thunderwater Mill…” Elizabeth mumbled, carefully holding out a brown bowl of what appeared to be beef stew and a portion of bread that she had grabbed from a nearby table. “Want some food?” and like that, Ichor was gone from the other like lightning; the bowl of soup and bread suddenly gone from Elizabeth’s hands and was swiftly devoured by the eldritch being before her. In less than a minute, it was all gone.

            Elizabeth paused as she noticed how dirty Ichor was, “how about we get you cleaned up and in some better clothes before you meet the owner of the mill?” she pondered aloud as she subtly let the other one out. Only to feel slight despair at the blank expression she gained from the Eldritch being. “Come on, you’re much too dirty!”

            Ichor merely stared blankly as she was dragged along again; she was beginning to wonder if this was going to be a regular thing. Nevertheless, she accepted it, as she wanted more food, perhaps also some cruor? The next few hours were rather interesting, as she was taught how to use a bar of soap and how to wash her hair. However difficult, in the end, she came out of it with not a speck of dirt on her.

            She stared blankly as Elizabeth took the torture device called a ‘brush’ to her hair. Her hair had previously seemed to be a dark brown, but once washed and dried, it had turned out to be silver-white, and her skin a scarred alabaster. The only splash of color on her being was her eyes, forever a poisonous cinnabar color. She ignored Elizabeth’s ramblings about her hair being so soft and pretty, and that she “must be from a noble family” as she pulled the long, wavy locks into a low ponytail with a beige ribbon. although she could not complain about the new clothes that she was given: a deep blue cotton dress that started in a high collar, the sleeves ending at her wrist, and the hem at the bottom of the dress ended just a few inches off the ground. It was softer than what she had previously worn and neither hugged nor dwarfed her lithe form. It was comfortable and easy to move in, though she was without shoes as she discovered a dislike of them when Elizabeth attempted to have her put a pair on.

            Ichor had been pondering things during the torture session. ‘Humans… are so much more interesting than I thought. Maybe I can just find a human willing to let me have food? Their food… isn’t enough.’ She still craved sustenance, the soup and bread had not been enough, and she knew it would not.  ‘fufufu… Maybe just take the criminals that line the streets and give their money, along with my own, to the orphanage?’ there was the thought again, the orphanage.

            “Ichor! C’mon, time to go meet Mister Chester.” Elizabeth whined, finally catching the Rhyfelkova’s attention. And like that, Ichor was being dragged along again, and she couldn’t help but squint whenever the light became a bit too bright. She was a type of being that could not go out in the sunlight, as she was perfectly adapted caliginous hours of the night.

            “There you are Miss Moore, care to tell me why you were late for curfew?” came a raucous male voice, grating on Ichor’s sensitive hearing. His tone was extremely unpleasant and denoted that he believed he was higher than others and needed to be kicked off his high horse. Ichor paused, finally taking the time to observe their forms. Elizabeth had a light, but curvy build hidden by a slightly too big warm brown dress. Her height a bit shorter than average but she still towered over Ichor, she had short, curly chocolate brown hair that went well with her golden skin and large hazel eyes seemed to glow with life.

             However, the male towered over Elizabeth by a good two or three feet. He was well muscled, looking as if he could lift a tree from its soil without any trouble. His skin was a tawny beige, hair a deep ebony matched by his cruel ink filled eyes. He wore a frivolous dark blue suit and black gloves.

            Elizabeth could not help but stutter, “I’m sorry Mister Chester! I had gotten lost and Ichor here helped me find my way back, and after talking for a while, she wanted to join the mill!” she quickly spun the tale, putting a hand on the Rhyfelkova’s hair before she chirped “this is Ichor Vera.”, having made the last name up on a dime. Ichor merely nodded, curious as to what was going to happen.

            Chester sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his large fingers. “I will let you off this once since you are still new in town. Now why does Miss Vera wish to join the mill?” he questioned, seemingly hoping to find a hole in Elizabeth’s explanation. His tone had changed though, it seemed to drip with malice.

            Ichor looked to Elizabeth, tugging on her sleeve to get her attention. Elizabeth looked down before staging a gasp, “I forgot, Ichor is mute.” She said sheepishly, “I had learned to speak with my hands out of interest when I was younger, that was how we were able to talk.” She quickly explained to cover Ichor’s hesitance, hoping that Ichor could at least fake it. A short show and false explanation later, Ichor had been given a post as a bobbin girl in the mill. She had been ‘shy’ at first, hiding in places to avoid being found. The people working in the mill just assumed that she was skittish. At some point, she had found a hiding spot in the walls, travelling mostly freely through them, watching the different contraptions in awe. A loud crash suddenly echoed through the building, a series of shrieks and shrill shouts soon followed as she ran unknowingly into the bright sunlight. It had been the worst possible decision, as the light was not only glaringly bright, it felt was as if the sun itself was branding her skin before it was ripped off and repeated, time becoming meaningless before all went blissfully dark.

            It had been a few days since then, maybe about a week, and Ichor had recovered- no thanks to the doctors though they did not know what had afflicted her, they wanted to quarantine her, stating that she had a dangerous illness that could spread to others. Such a statement was obviously false, as no one else had it. It made her wonder about the intelligence of such creatures, thinking that something that was an integral part of herself was going to spread to others when you had to be born with it.

            Ichor, then deciding that it was a dull, boring, and dangerous lifestyle, treaded carefully; she did not want another mishap to happen. Moreover, as promised, sent the money she earned to the orphanage. She sighed as she got ready, it was four thirty in the morning, and she work began at five. It was so simple; all she did was take the cotton-filled bobbins off the machine when it was turned off and then set empty ones in their place. She then put the bobbins in place for the others who would take it to the weavers. She was free to amuse herself until the process repeated again. She and the others would then eat breakfast at fifteen minutes past seven for half an hour before going back to work until she got dinner at half past twelve for half an hour, and then continued working until it was dark outside, no school, no free time, it was straight to bed after a bath.

            It was when she realized how boring this place was that she decided to corner Elizabeth, and finally demand answers. Her prey was panicked when she had been cornered in a place where others would not find them. “Now tell me, frightened rabbit, why had you been attempting to steal money from the orphanage.” Ichor snarled, pinning the frightened girl to the wall.

            “I… I…I tried because-” Elizabeth began with a stuttering voice but was cut off by the ringing of church bells beckoning them. Ichor blinked, distracted by the resonating ringing sound. “No! We’re going to be late for church! I will explain later Ichor, I promise!” Elizabeth stammered so quickly that Ichor nearly missed it as she was once again dragged behind her prey.

            Ichor was confused, church was supposed to be in the morning on Sundays, but it was evening- the sky almost completely dark on this Saturday. And with that, a mass of girls of different ages converged on the local church. On the way there, Ichor saw people dressed in old and worn clothes lining the streets, attempting to sleep in somewhat sheltered places- not one person offered to help them; if anything, they were given looks of disgust as if they were muck on the bottom of their shoes. She could see many suffering from illnesses, and even if they could afford a doctor, they would not be given the correct treatment. It was then, inside the church, when the sermon had already begun, that her hat was knocked off and someone recognized her, shouting obscenities and calling her a demon that needed to be killed or burned at the stake.

            Ichor found this mildly annoying, but when a person dressed in exorbitant clothing with frills and bright color joined in and attempted to apprehend Ichor, her self-control broke.

            All the candles and lanterns went out, even those sheltered by glass and everyone was left in the murky abyss the room became. Everyone was silent, the scent of fear seemed the choke them. Fufufu, came a disembodied, cruel, laughter. “You pitiful rabbits, you think you’re the predator, don’t you?” the voice now had a source, but it seemed to move about the room fluidly, not staying in one spot. Everyone was fearfully gathering in the center of the room. “Oh? All of you know your place except for the two foolish rabbits,” there was a pause as more laughter filled the air. “It has been too long since I have eaten properly!” and with that, there were two screams, the sound of bones shattering, and flesh being rendered to pieces filled the room before dying down. No one dared to scream or move as they heard the sound of someone scarfing down something liquid and something more… solid.

            After several minutes a single lone candle managed to be relit by a brave soul, and it shed just enough light on the scene to make several, if not all the girls scream. There were two bloodied corpses draped across a wooden pew in the far back, closest to the door. Their limbs were mangled, chunks of flesh missing and splintered bones visibly poking through the flesh still left. Blood oozed from the wounds like a viscous river, it stained the pew and marble floor a vivid cherry wine hue. There, crouched on the pew by the fresh corpses, was a monster. Their hands lips tinted scarlet as rubies trailed down their scarred alabaster arms and onto the now ruined dress. White fox like ears tipped in deep red stood erect atop their head, nearly translucent pink scales on her cheeks. Their cinnabar eyes were half lidded in bliss as the copper and iron liquid flowed down her throat. Ichor paused, and seemed to become aware of what had just happened, her eyes grew wide in horror that she had lost control.

            The males in the church grabbed any weapon at hand and charged at her. Ichor fled, she should have known better than to think she could attempt living with humans no matter how stupid they seemed to her. After all, her existence was sanguinary in it of itself.

            Ichor ran through the nearby forest, hoping that they would not find her. Her limbs were shaking as she looked at her reflection in the stream she had found. ‘Why… why did I have to lose control little rabbit? After more than a thousand years… wouldn’t I have full control?’ she thought in despair, only to not receive a reply from the shadows.

It appeared luck was never on the Rhyfelkova’s side.