Mother needs to eat soon. Her last generation of offspring had all failed except for me, leaving her exhausted and starved from nursing. She spends most of the days curled up in her mound of home-soil conserving energy, but when she speaks she tells stories about her past that I can hardly imagine.

She used to have an army of children like me. We would travel through the forests in the evenings and carry out surprise raids against daywalker villages, which would always end quickly and brutally. We would then have feasts, right there on the battlefield, and we’d retreat before morning.

Times changed, though. Mother used to rule an entire fiefdom back in her glory days, living in a real live castle while her thousand offspring lived in the surrounding town. When daywalker society moved on, the kingdoms dissolved and were united. Soon they began joining together to trap, chase, stab, and burn us. The few survivors took Mother across the ocean, hidden below deck, to the land of America.

It was better there, though never as fruitful as before. We ate sparingly and moved frequently so the daywalkers wouldn’t get suspicious. Then, American society started to change too. Daywalkers became more interconnected and they began to take notice of us more easily. Since then food has been scarce and we’ve constantly been on the run.

It’s only me and Mother now. My siblings all died months ago. Five yet-nameless ones died in agony during the daywalker-to-nightwalker conversion process that we call “the evening”. Seamus later overdosed on tainted animal blood, despite Mother’s warnings. Gregor, Caroline, and Robin all roasted when a daywalker family whose boy we took burned down our shelter. Marie lost her home-soil in the fire and wasted away soon after. We knew the risk; we didn’t want to take him in the first place, but we were completely starved.

Sarah was the last to die. She had snuck into a daywalker farmer’s house to feed on his girl-child. He must have heard something because he ran into the room and stabbed Sarah in the back. She escaped back to our bivouac, but the damage was done. She was in her death-process when Mother and I moved on.

We’re currently hitchhiking east in a daywalker vehicle (oh the horror) with Mother pretending to be my sick wife. I’ve urged the man to arrive before morning, and so far he’s complying. I’ll feed him to Mother afterwards, of course, to sustain her for a few days and to tie loose ends. We’re going to a place called New York City. I’ve heard daywalkers from far and wide talking about it, so it should be fruitful. If this city is as well populated as I think, I’ll quickly nab a few to nourish Mother back to strength, caution be damned. Then I can start bringing them to her alive for conversion. After that, we’ll see. I have a good feeling about this place.