Charlotte ran her fingers over the book she held in her hand, taking a moment to indulge herself with the feel of cracked leather and the smell of the old paper. It was a good book, heavy with the accumulated knowledge contained within. She lingered for a moment, then carefully placed it down with its fellows in the box at her feet, and taped it closed.

Her haven was empty, now. Her books and computer were packed away, the piles of notes carefully indexed and filed for future reference or destroyed. The map of South Sacramento she had used to plot her feeding patterns had been rolled up and placed on top of the duffel bags full of carefully packed clothes. Upstairs, she could hear her Father finishing his own packing, gathering up the last of his personal affects.

Probably deciding what music he wants to put on for the journey.

The thought brought a touch of a smile to her thin face. They were leaving town. Charlotte knew it was for the best - the brush with the Hunters had been a little too close for comfort - but she found herself strangely saddened by the prospect. South Sacramento was a run-down husk of a place, but it had a certain...vibrancy. Her mind kept drifting back to the other Kindred she had met - Vorgian sitting as the Prince of his own little domain in Trax, Gareth Hacket and the plans she had which would now never come to pass, and the strange, enigmatic Larkin Trask. There had been a refreshing honesty about them all, a far cry from the gentrified circles she had walked in beside her Sire.

She would miss them. The handful of Mortals she had gotten to know as well, which surprised her. The Mekhet had begun putting down roots, and had found the act of pulling them up again strangely upsetting. And, so like her, had taken down some notes about the experience so she could study how her emotional reactions changed over the years. They were packed away with the rest, to be looked at when she could review them with a more analytic eye.

The stairs creaked, and her Father appeared.

"All ready to go?"

"Yea, that's the last of the books packed. I was just...reminiscing. I suppose I'll have to box myself up next."

Neither of them laughed. They both knew how much Charlotte hated traveling, hated being packed away during the daylight hours in the back of the van, like so much cargo. Her father came closer and placed an arm around her shoulder.

"I know. It's not a lot of fun. But it'll be worth it in the end, right? We're going home."

Home. Back to L.A, where she had been born and raised, then died and been born for a second time. Charlotte nodded, gave her father a brief hug, then pulled away.

"Of course." She said. "Can you help me with the boxes?"

And later, with her father's van packed and on its way out of the city, Charlotte took comfort by reminding herself that her time in Sacramento had given her more of the thing she treasured most; knowledge. About how to survive with almost no help or support from other Kindred. How to feed often enough to support herself and her Ghoul. Ways of dealing with reckless Kindred breaking the Masquerade, of surviving Hunter attacks. Charlotte left Sacramento with her head held high, ready to compose the next strain of her requiem.