She flicked her sword in disgust, the blood flying off the blade to glitter darkly on the black grass. The moon cast a sheen on her deep red-black hair. It was the colour of ripe cherries, he thought as she narrowed the peircing, arctic gaze on him. Her look was predatorial, merciless. By now, he was resigned to his fate, his limbs scattered across the brow of this hill. He, proud, 700 years old, rogue in every sense of the word, had finally conceded defeat to this flawless beauty. She moved silently across the grass to stand over him, resting the point of her silvered Roman sword on his collarbone, pricking the skin slightly.
"Last chance." Her voice was almost musical, a symphony like her movement. It made him think of birdsong and sunlight. He let out a theatrical sigh, giving her a sarcastic smile he didn't feel.
"I'm too old to change my ways now cher." Pierre met that gaze again, feeling the chill of a Hunter enter him. She was as dangerous as she was beautiful. "At least I can carry a good memory with me." He winked and was rewarded with a flare of fury in those striking eyes. They burned, making her all the more lovely. "If only I had been a few hundred years older" He sighed again.
She took a deep breath. "Sleep then, little brother and may you find forgiveness on the other side." In one swift action, she removed his head and pierced his heart. He never saw the glimmer of sadness in her eye as she collected the pieces of him and burned them before the sunrise.
"Even a rogue deserves some respect." She murmured, as the breeze took the ashes and scattered them. She then looked down at herself and sighed in disgust.
"I hate getting messy." She muttered, melting into the shadows and stalking back to her current resting place. The next night, she would rise and hunt the next rogue, as she had done for the past hundred years, despite the war that the humans raged on her kind.
"If only you poor creatures knew." She murmured sadly, eyes on the small village below her only window. She secured her shutters, sealing away the outside world before cleaning herself and her weapons so that she could rest. She no longer reflected on her battles, fleeting as they were. In the beginning, she would have been impressed at Pierre's brave tenacity. That was when she took pleasure from her duty. Now, she could think of nothing else to occupy her days.
"Bona nox, pater, frater, mater." She touched the marble bust of her family lightly before going to her room.
Good night, father, brother, mother.