The centuries were long and many, as were the number of her victims - countless in times's eternal night. Soon it would be time again to rise and feed, to seek the sustenance of her existence. Like others of her kind, she had tried the substitutions, the variations, the alternatives to satisfy and appease her craving; but these were hollow truths that could not, did not sustain her long. Fresh blood alone, fresh kill alone, only this and this alone would fill and bring the nurture she required. Thus she stalked the dim byways, the alleys far removed, the desolate places where wretched dregs of the living lingered on in shallow, pained condition to at last find peace in the violent comfort of her embrace. It was a kindness in a way. An end to suffering. A symbiotic service, in which misery ceased and life was sustained. At least such a life as any she had known these dark and endless years.

The centuries were long and many, as were the number of her lovers - countless in times' eternal night. Hungry, lonely, ever craving the warmth and trembling, quivering touch of another's arms, no caress could ever wholly supply, DruUna lingered on. A shadow of a rose cast in moonlight, beautiful yet dark and thorned.