I'd say we didn't mean to lose her but that'd be a lie. It wasn't that we didn't love her, it was because we loved her that we took that trip out east and left her in the wake of that storm. We still love her but damned if we'll go back there again - damned if we'll stay in the country much longer at this rate.
They say she's still out there, howling in wastelands and wondering where we went. I say she can keep howling til the dirt and dust fill her lungs like sandbags, til her tongue shrivels up and til she drops dead for the second, and hopefully last, time.
I say if they're that concerned they can take her home themselves and shoulder her burden like our family has the past nine hundred years. Unsurprisingly there's been no takers and anyone who's been unfortunate enough to wander too close to her meets the same conclusion we came to - there's nothing in God's green earth that can help her.
We don't know what she was called when she was human, those records have long since been lost to time, but we've always called her Maríe. Not that she cares for anything as human as a name, honestly it was more for us to help with the burden of keeping her from the world and keeping her well-fed.
There's not a name for what she is - not that we've ever been able to find at least. She doesn't age but has a pulse. Hates the sun but is terrified of the dark. Only eats raw meat but it must be rotting... must be human. We've killed dozens of people for her over the years, til we couldn't stand the guilt any longer.
Now she's free and we're free.
And lord have mercy on whoever finds her.
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