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Since his discovery of the Muirinn, he had become somewhat insatiable to have more. An addiction he was unaware of until he so haphazardly stumbled upon it. He was unwilling to part with her, but another perhaps could earn him quite the piece of coin, he couldn't deny, however, the whispers within the back of his mind that he would keep any and all of them that he crossed paths with. That he could not have enough of them. It was a side effect of whatever vampirism possessed him, he knew, and just like any other time, he was unable to deny that urge for too long. He had never come across another that begged him to indulge in such a whim though, not like the mere presence of Uslin did.

She wanted to go home, though. Many of them did, there was no denying that, and while he was quite confident that her skin would remain just out of her reach, he held a belief that someone may come looking for her. After all, she wasn't just some lonely woman he'd picked up. In their conversations, she'd claimed she was searching for something to save her people. None that knew him would be naive enough to think he would consider turning her free for such a tale, true or otherwise, it wasn't his problem. However, if there was an ounce of honesty in it, it meant that eventually, these people of hers may emerge from the sea as well, provoked to search her out.

He didn't want to chance missing it. So he had made habits of walking the seashore often in recent days. It added an extra bit of time to his trek home between the lands of Anderstel and Shanton, but it would prove well worth it should he happen to cross paths with another. After all, they were a delicacy, a confirmation made by one of his appraisers when he'd breached the subject. He'd been informed that in recent years the presence of the merfolk as he'd called them had been scarce to nothing, as such, the intoxicating properties of their blood would fill his coffers and then some. Even with that information to mull, he was unwilling to part with the blue seal safe within the walls of his own home.

His musings fell silent as he noticed a silhouette through the twilight. Mismatched eyes narrowing upon them sharply through the drift of the lazy fog. It billowed in the evening hours in morose waves, slowly trespassing ashore with the guidance and insistence of the steady breeze. His steps, however, never faltered as he continued on his path. Getting closer, he found the shadow give way to a diminutive stature, one petite and he would tilt his head. Finally, he would come to a halt, hands tensing faintly in his pockets as his presence was announced with a light grunt, followed by: "You lost?"

Niamh; 

Years had passed since the deaths of her parents. Months since she had left the safety of the village for the cold depths of the sea. Weeks still since the waters had grown steadily warmer, and all but two days since she had crawled to shore. She'd spent one of those days lounging in the sun and catching crabs along the shoreline, but the second day had been all about adventure.

There was a harbor nearby, which meant a town. And towns meant people. People were dangerous, according to father, liable to steal the skin off one's back without a second thought. Niamh was wary, but curious, and tired of eating fish - she could smell good things from the harbor, sweet things, and she wished to fill her belly with something other than stinky, salty seafood. And so off she went, away from the safety of warm waters and into the belly of the proverbial beast.

The scents, sights, and sounds of the town assaulted her the moment she stepped barefoot upon worn cobblestone, and for a moment, Niamh felt the overwhelming urge to turn and flee. There was just so much - too much - from the colorful people and the clothes they wore to the myriad of different tones and voices that carried in the wind, the smell of baked bread from the shop to the left, salted meat from the one on the right, of sweat from those bustling to and fro'. So much, too much, for her senses, used to the much calmer life beneath the ocean's surface, to properly take in.

The slight youth turned to the nearest hint of safety - a dark, shadowed corner, hidden from prying eyes. Once ensconced within the shadows of the unknown building's walls, she would crouch, wrapping her thin arms about knobby knees and ducking her head down to tuck into the space between the jut of her legs and her chest. Then she breathed in deep, steady breaths, counting to five with each inhale and exhale.

It takes a few tries before she finally gets her pounding heart under control. But once done, she uncoils, rising from her crouch to step from the darkness and peer cautiously around the corner of the building into the town proper. Luckily, it appears as if no one has noticed her -  and she creeps further onward, outward, into the full light of the midday sun. As she rounds the corner of the building, a new scent hits her nose - while she had been busy cowering and breathing, the baker had set out a new plate upon the windowsill, one filled with round little discs of something that smelled absolutely delicious. Niamh squinted pale eyes, leaning forward and attempting to get a better look - and yes, just as she thought.

They were cookies.

A delicacy she'd had only a handful of times in her life - literally, she could count the number of times she'd eaten the sweet treats on one hand. The ingredients had been hard to come by, in her small home village, and expensive to boot. The few times her mother had gotten her hands on them, she'd whipped up the single most sweetest, sugariest things Niamh had ever had the pleasure of eating.

Something warm and wet dripped down her chin, breaking her from memories of her mother in their little kitchen, humming songs and stirring dough. Niamh ran the back of one hand along her face, and found herself embarrassed when it came away wet with saliva - she'd been drooling, though unknowingly, and the fact filled her with shame. A quick look around proved that again, no one had noticed the strange little girl within their midst, everyone too busy with their own lives to care for her, even with her tattered, worn furs and bare feet.

Her eyes returned to the plate of cookies, and almost as if she were drawn to them by some magical force, her feet moved as if they had a mind of their own. On she walked, ducking past and under people, until she was standing at the open window, near enough to the cookies that if she reached out, she could touch one, take one, bite into its gooey softness and savor its sweet taste. Without conscious thought, her arm lifted, and she reached -

"Hey, kid!"

The shout startled her, and she jumped back. But the damage was done - her fingers caught the edge of the plate as she moved back, and she watched, distraught, as the whole thing fell, the porcelain of the plate breaking upon impact with the ground, some of the cookies similarly crumbling. Footsteps stomped her way, ever closer, and suddenly she was seized by the arm, and whirled about to face a man who was twice her size, both in height and in width. He was red in the face and puffed up like a pufferfish, but Niamh was too scared to laugh at that thought.

"What do you think you're doing, brat? I worked all day on those damn cookies! Now you've gone and ruined them!" He shook her, hard, by the arm, and she couldn't help the whimper that escaped her mouth. But he only seemed to get angrier at the sound, reddening even further, were that possible.

"How're you gonna' pay for this, huh, you little pissant?"

He shook her again, but Niamh had no answer. Her silence only served to further enrage him, and suddenly he raised one hand, swinging it down to fall against her cheek in a solid slap. The impact of it had her head swinging to the side, and that is what made her react - she twisted and turned and bit down on his hand. He let go of her with a yelp, and then she was off like a shot.

By the time she made it back to the harbor, the sun was going down, and she was crying.

"Humans really are the worst," She mumbled to herself, scrubbing angrily at her own face with both hands, like a child younger than her might. She should have listened to her parents - she should have never entered the town in the first place. All humans did was hurt others, and she'd faced it today firsthand.

It's as she's walking, so lost in her own thoughts, that the man comes up behind her. His voice breaks her from her reverie, and she turns, shoulders hunching around her ears and fingers clinging at each elbow.

"Go away," She mutters, tugging at the edge of her skin, pulling it closer around herself. "I don't want anymore humans bothering me today, thank you."

Unaware of what she'd given away, unaware of the danger she was in, she turned abruptly back around - unknowingly giving her back to a predator.

...