Excerpt: Fuel

Night settled over Haithe like a great thick blanket. Very few insects could be heard at night and fewer animals. Even the winds and rains tended to calm at night. It was as if the whole valley simply gave up at the end of the day. But there was one that was awake and active after dark.
The streets were all but deserted at dusk, and not a soul dared to go into the streets when full dark hit. The city had no need for street lamps or anything to light the way, so on the night of a new moon the city looked like it had been drowned in ink. There was a light in every window, but they were all a blue tint that only enhanced the sense that the city was under a dark cloth at night.
Down on the cobblestones between buildings whatever slight sound was being made by his footfalls was carried away on the light breeze. He gazed longingly into a few windows, but never stayed long in one place.
Work to do, so much work to do.
A cat jumped down into the street in front of him. It hissed and arched its back when he took a step toward it, then fled when he took a second. Just as well, they both had better things to do than play.
He turned a corner and began heading north. Even in the overwhelming darkness he knew where he was going. His footing on the cobblestones was sure and stable, like any creature in its element.
Hungry, always hungry. Work to do. Work before food.
He came across a garbage bin that had been overturned either by someone or something before he got to it. He rummaged through it looking for anything he could eat, but was distracted again by a burning pain behind his eyes.
Working, working. So hungry.
At the town square he came to a halt and looked curiously out into the open air. He was used to navigating the back streets, places where he could hide easily from anyone or anything he didn’t trust. Not that there was anything out there he did trust. Either a wrong turn or wrong luck had brought him to a point where he needed to cross the great unsheltered main square to get to his destination. He let out a low whine in frustration and shrank back in the direction he had come.
Work! Finish your work!
The pain behind his eyes grew worse and he made a second more drawn out whine. If he knew how, he would have cursed the pain. Carefully, and with all the stealth he could manage, he darted into the square.
With no moon in the sky to illuminate him he might as well have been a leaf blowing through the square, or an overzealous shadow. He felt too exposed, a turtle turned on its back. But soon enough he had made it to the other side where he could rest a moment, once again hidden by the surrounding buildings.
Next to him on the ground was a puddle left after some townsperson had thrown out their dish water earlier. From the faint blue light in the windows above him he could just make out his own reflection in the water. At first he could only see the very top of his head but as he leaned forward slowly the rest of his face came into view. He started at the sight of his visage and made a sound of anguish. Residents might later think that some unlucky animal was being flayed apart while still alive, for the sound was inhuman in both pitch and duration.