If the girl didn't speak, Calhoun would have assumed that the girl lacked the ability to talk. Until now, no one had done something so odd, and he could only believe that it was because she was a naive little girl. Her small hand was still on his mouth with the handkerchief. She was covering the left side of his lips that was bruised.
"What are you doing here alone by yourself? Where are your parents?" he asked the girl who was looking straight into his eyes. On his question, the girl turned her head in the direction from where she had walked through before looking back at him.
With the girl standing this close to him, Calhoun could smell the fresh blood running through her delicate veins. His fangs appeared in full form, and the girl looked at his fangs curiously. Calhoun doubted with her naivety, even if she carried hundreds of clover-leaf with her, she would end up as someone's meal.
