Slogging back to camp with a lifeless, bloodless sack of deer meat is always a tedious task. Fortunately, it’s a financially rewarding one. Well, not that rewarding; as is painfully clear to anyone who sees the the wimpy motor scooter now loaded down with several slabs of fresh-cut meat. The bike’s weak springs clatter constantly under the weight of the heavy load.

Their relentless rattling has me dreaming of a day when I’ll be able to cruise back to our Colony on a big black chopper instead of this tiny red scooter. Its booming exhaust would rumble off the outer walls and make the ladies swoon. Well, maybe I’m getting a bit ahead of myself on that one… I mean, I’m dead, or whatever people consider vampires these days, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fantasize a little...

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