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Edward's eyes were black - a sign that he needed to hunt, that his thirst could be dangerous if blood was spilled. And that's what he intended to do - hunt, that is, not spill blood.
He walked out of the cathedral, and stopped to scent the air, latching onto the scent of blood. His guess was that the scent he had caught was most likely a squirrel, perhaps a few of them. Not enough to sustain him, of course, he would find more. Breaking into a sprint, he began to tail it, and when he got closer, he slowed, preparing to pounce, make the killing bite. He did - lunged for the back of the neck and sucked it clean, before proceeding to bury it. If anyone found it, they'd be quiet disturbed; the creature was literally drained of all the blood that had once run through it's veins. Upon burying it, he tasted the air again - searching for something else. This time, it was a turkey - a rare, but nice find. That would keep him filled.
The process began again - scent, track, sprint, stalk, pounce, bite, kill, bury.
Feeling satisfied, his eyes returned to their normal, golden state, and the vampire male began to head back to camp.