Shenouda sauntered into the main hall. With the exception of a few ghouls waiting patiently for mealtime, the rows of tables were empty. Ghaelvord’s majestic Blackwood throne sat empty at the end of the hall. Shenouda had felt the dull roar of the tingling hunger earlier. Now the dull roar rose to a pulsating prickling sensation that seemed to envelope her whole body. She surveyed the doors leading to the various wings built off of the main hall. She knew that fresh prisoners were billeted in each one.

Shenouda had stopped fighting to keep the tingling at bay. Something about it repulsed her. She had given into it many times now. The victims did not mind. She only fed on the new ones, the plump ones, before they became grim, empty ghouls, before they grew thin and pale. No, they did not mind at all. They merely fell asleep. When they awoke, they bore only the tiniest marks indicating that she had been there. She wondered to herself who all of these industrious laborers were and where they all came from. She did not concern herself with these matters, but she did wonder.

When her impulses reached a boiling point, she burst into action. The pistons in her legs exploded with force and she sprinted to the nearest door, tore it open, and pounced inside. Sometimes, she took her victims by stealth. Sometimes she sat with them, watched them, and even communicated with gestures and emotive sounds. Today, however, she only wanted to get it over with. Something about the process tugged at her conscience and sickened her.

Twenty minutes later she wanted fresh air. Her skin wanted to soak up the moonlight. She performed a handspring and launched her body out of a high window. As she exited the building, she spun around and caught the windowsill. Then, she coiled her legs and launched herself upwards. She caught the edge of the roof and pulled herself up onto it. Below her lay the entire operation. Smoke billowed from the forge where the blacksmith ghouls tirelessly plied their craft. No sound at all came from the textile hall. The ghouls toiled there in silence.

Outside the buildings, the ghouls roamed around, built bonfires, squabbled over scraps of food, and otherwise occupied their aimless interests. These ghouls wore the shiny armor of Ghaelvord’s army. Normally Malacoda trained them. He led them through countless, repetitive drills. He honed their reflexes. While they seemed mindless, their motor skills were not impaired, and neither were their learning capacities. In fact, they seemed to learn new skills with amazing ease. Malacoda trained some to lead others. He trained them to march, to fight, and to use the mystical energy weapons that Ghaelvord had brought from his lair back in Egypt. Today, however, with Malacoda and Ghaelvord away on an errand, the soldiers roamed about listlessly.

Ghaelvord asked her to keep an eye on them before he left with Malacoda, but did not give her any other instructions. She did not even know how to communicate with these creatures. They seemed to revere her though. They bowed in her presence and stood at attention as if waiting for commands.

As she surveyed the hustle and bustle from her lofty perch, she heard a rustling in the bushes to her right. Her sensitive ears picked up even the tiniest sounds and segregated them from the surrounding noise. Her eyes darted to the place. A bush shook and then she saw the glint of an eye in the moonlight. In a flash, she leapt to the branches of a nearby tree. She bounced from limb to limb in Tarzan-like fashion. Eventually, she found herself directly above the bush. She looked down on a small, brown person curled up and as still as the night itself.

Puzzled, she cocked her head to the side and observed. Her curiosity soon got the better of her and she dropped to the ground. She landed in a crouch mere inches from the child’s face. Her grey eyes stared into the brown eyes of a young teenage girl. The girl’s irises grew wide as the graceful form of Shenouda’s supple body appeared before her.

“Shhhhhh.” The girl shushed Shenouda and put a finger to her lips.

Shenouda played along and nodded her head. She pointed towards the woods and the girl began crawling slowly in that direction. When they reached what the girl considered a safe distance, the girl turned and spoke.

“Are you one of them?” The girl asked.

The girl’s voice startled Shenouda. The girl’s accent struck Shenouda as strange, but she understood the words. Shenouda had become adept at numerous languages, but she did not know why or how. She suspected that it had something to do with her dazed recovery from her leg injury and from her transformation at Ghaelvord’s hands into whatever she had become.

“Maybe. I don’t know what I am.” Shenouda replied honestly.

The girl eyed her suspiciously, but gave up and with a shrug said, “I escaped when one of the soldiers opened the door to our room. He wanted food, and I had rice to give him. He left the door open and I walked right out. I am the last one left. They took the others.”

“Where did they take them?” Shenouda asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“Don’t you know?” The girl asked.

“I might.” Shenouda replied.

“It is okay. They are gone. They have gone on to join the jungle god. He is building an army you know. He is building an army that will protect our tribe and bring down the wrath of the gods on the pillagers and the raiders. Our tribe will grow strong and we will take back our woods and our homes and our lives. I should have waited. I should have joined them, but I went outside and saw them. I saw their faces and I just ran. I ran and hid and then I saw you. Are you an angel?”

“An angel…” Shenouda’s voice trailed off. “I am…” Her mind raced. “Shenouda. I am Shenouda.”

The girl smiled and said, “I am pleased to meet you. I don’t always know who I am either, especially now. I do not know where I am going or what I will do when I get there.”

Something about those words resonated with Shenouda. Shenouda realized that she had never really known those things herself either.

“I know who you are. You are my guest.” Shenouda said with a smile.

Shenouda wanted a friend. She wanted to connect with this young girl. She saw a hint of herself in this naïve young woman’s attitude. She wanted a friend. She would make one. She took the girl back to the main hall. They strode past the ghouls with confidence. She turned up her chin and they bowed before her. She led the girl into Ghaelvord’s private quarters. She found a nearby ghoul and asked him to have food and drink brought. His lips had withered from his face and his white teeth gleamed menacingly at her. He simply nodded his head, however, and left. Soon afterwards, other ghouls brought food and drink. They brought stew made with Cane Rat, a delicacy in that part of the world. They also brought a fermented grain brew, commissioned by Ghaelvord for his and Malacoda’s consumption. Shenouda watched the girl enjoy the feast. She ate hungrily. They chattered the night away.

“I love your long black hair. It’s so silky and smooth. Can I touch it?” The girl said between bites.

“Yes.” Shenouda leaned her head in and allowed the girl to stroke her hair.

“And I love your necklace.” Shenouda said, complimenting the girl on the multicolored beads that hung around her neck.

“I strung them myself.” The girl replied.

Shenouda enjoyed the company. This conversation comprised the only human contact that Shenouda had participated in since her leg had healed.