Lost souls always return home [Maia]

Her supper was frugal, meagre almost, but it was exactly enough for the young woman to be sated. Maia had managed to collect some fruits from the forest and had hungrily devoured them, peel and all, licking the juice from her lips and fingers. Hungry like a wolf. Like a beast. She didn’t know the true meaning of that proverb until a few years ago.
What would her parents say, seeing her eat sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor like this, like an animal? They always had demanded her to sit and eat at a table, upright, like a lady should eat. Don’t speak too loudly, don’t eat so messy, mind your language. All those silly little etiquette rules that Maia had memorized every single word of – and even those hadn’t saved her parents.

She was being watched. She could tell immediately. It was as if a dark, eerie aura had made its way to the villa and was now observing her – it was there, somewhere, outside.
It was an odd thing, being hunted as the hunter she was herself. Werewolves were part of the highest ranks of the food chains that was so crucial in forests like these, weren’t they? Her wolf would murder without mercy if the moon was full and the conditions were exactly right. The young woman couldn’t think of another creature that killed so ferociously, so ruthlessly. She remembered when she hated her wolf, when she even wanted to find some kind of cure to kill the creature that possessed her.

But now? She felt invincible. No one could touch her, right here in her crumbling castle by the sea. The last heiress of a family whose name was already forgotten by the masses.

Maia made her way across the hallway, barefoot, the black dress she wore - once beautiful but now torn and worn out - fluttering behind her like butterfly wings. The young woman kept walking until she stopped at the entry gate, as if the locked iron bars could protect her.
The bars made a beautiful pattern on the floor, caused by the oil lamps she had so carefully lit a few hours ago when the sun had begun to set. Maia had always loved lights, flames, candles – her only companions in the crumbling house that was inhabited only by her. The young woman stood between the zigzagging shadows, looking through the bars, almost standing on her tiptoes, aware the intruder probably wasn’t able to see her entire face.

She looked at him in silence.

Watching him, studying him. Like carnivores always did before they attacked their prey. The invader, vaguely visible as the sun had already set in the sea. A young man, sleek and sharp, his hair light although it seemed to blend in with the night. His full lips, his strongly defined cheekbones.
A vampire. Of course. A hunter of the night like she was herself. The stench of rotting flesh and decay that came from the creature was hard to miss – and harder to bear even. It made her already sensitive nose crinkle with disgust.
’Who are you?’ She asked, an attempt to break the silence, that was too tense for her own comfort. Her voice was stern – almost calm.