I throw my head back and laugh a merciless laugh. The sound is rich, gurgling up from my throat, to penetrate the frigid night air. I cast a glance at my prey, helpless at my feet. The young child is curled up in a ball, whimpering and rocking herself. I roll my eyes as I pull the dagger my own papa gave me before he was cruelly murdered. The handle, carved of pearl, shines in the darkness as the blade glints in the moonlight. I kneel by the child and harshly grab her arm. Pulling her perfect, white, unmarked arm to me I push the knife into her perfect, noble flesh. I carve into her arm, ignoring her pleas and cries of distress, just like her father ignored mine when he murdered my father. I lick my teeth as I work, silently carving the message into his sweet daughters flesh, marking the noble princess. Revenge is sweet when simmered for years.