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LUKE
Iam a monster.
The voice in the back of my mind screams it, but I don’t care.
Each blade of grass is cold and crisp between my paw pads and the ground seems to spring up to meet my massive body with each leap.
I catch the scent of my prey.
The thrum of its heartbeat pounds like it’s running for its life.
That throbbing heart is dead right. I’m coming for it, and there is no escape. I can already taste the tang of blood, pumping down my throat, feel the exquisite wrench of its limbs beneath me as I drink in its life force to feed my own, juices running down my chin.
The forest reveals itself with the hush of every leaf in the wind, and the scent released by each tiny paw that touches the drenched earth.
My eyesight is weaker in this form.
Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s just that my other senses kick up so much that I don’t care about vision anymore.
I want to touch, to taste. I want to hear the music of the forest and drink in the heady fragrance of fear that follows wherever I go.
The other creatures are innocent. Their terror is intoxicating to a monster like me.
My prey is tiring now, I can feel it beginning to slow.
I can sympathize with how it must feel to be toyed with and chased until its chest aches and it forgets anything but the sound of my paws beating the ground behind it, always closer, but never pouncing.
I take no pleasure from this, not really. I’ve been doing it so long there is no challenge.
Hunger, hunt, chase, tire, kill.
We’ve reached the clearing by the pond. This is as good a place as any.
Soft light dapples my fur and I leap, jaws wide, paws splayed.
I sink my teeth into soft fur and softer flesh and the rabbit crumples under my weight, blood already pumping down my throat as I hold down those convulsing limbs.
The velvet of its blood coats my insides, lights me up, receptors flashing. It’s almost like happiness.
But a tiny piece of my soul stays in the dark.
When the prey goes limp and weightless, I lose interest and lift my nose to the winds.
Something is coming.
The wind changes slightly, carrying something new.
Not something.
Someone.
A new hunger sweeps over me, unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
The tantalizing scent moves closer to the forest. So close, I can practically taste it.
In the back of my mind, my other self is finally silent.
He senses it too. He shares my hunger.
It will be sated, I promise him.
And soon.
