Tasarla RomaneyPontianak stirred her coffee without blinking.
“You know,” she said softly, “humans fear me because I hunt at night.”
Across from her, the Burrunjor lowered its enormous head.
The entire booth creaked with the movement.
A slow growl rolled from its chest. “I hunt whenever I want.”
The Pontianak smiled for the first time all evening.
For the next hour they exchanged hunting stories while every customer quietly paid their bill and left.
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Ancient Origins
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