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far into their throats that they could not possibly dislodge
them. Before he left them, Wren severed the arms from the
fledgling vampires, who were continuously vomiting over
themselves as they lay impaled, courtesy of the garlic, so
they could not pull it from them maws. The garlic would
hinder their healing processes.
The child screamed again in the distance.
‘Oh, yeah,’ remembered Wren. ‘Don’t eat all that
garlic at once, ok?’ he said, pointing at the vampires. As he
turned, he said the vampires herding the small child into
an alley between two buildings. He immediately picked up
his sword and sprinted after the helpless kid.
‘Fuck, fuck!’ he grumbled to himself as he ran,
covered in blood and dirt with strands of his hair hanging
down over his face. As he sprinted through the town
centre, dispatching fledgling vampires with strikes of his
sword as he did, he wiped the blood from his eyes and tried
to not let the feeling of his empty lungs hinder him. He
gripped his sword tightly and cautiously entered the
alleyway, his nocturnal eyes scanning the area, bringing to