reached for the rifle leaning against the tree beside him.
Baring my teeth in an excited grin, I let him get the rifle up to his shoulder before I burst out of the brush, hitting him like a ton of bricks, and knocking him flat on his back. The thunder crack of the rifle going off next to my ear was jarring, but it didn’t slow me down. Blood spurted, hot and sweet with fear, from the jagged gash in his neck, covering my muzzle with gore. A gurgling cry was all he managed before he went still, eyes staring unblinking at the dark sky. Back by the truck, his friends scrambled for their own guns.
In his haste and fear, Tim dropped his rifle at his feet, gnarled hands shaking as he reached for it. His fingers didn’t even brush the smooth wood of the stock before I slammed into him, driving him back into the side of the truck where his head impacted with a meaty thump. I watched as his limbs went limp and he flopped down to the ground, listing to one side.
I smelled the powdery fragrance of Dale’s cheap soap before I even heard the grate of gravel beneath his shuffling steps. “G-get away from him,” he stammered, his nasally voice shaking with fear. “Get away or I’ll shoot!”
Turning, I rounded on him with a wide toothy grin, delighting in the way the color drained from his face at the same time a dark spot grew on the front of his camouflage pants. The air was suddenly redolent with the bitter scent of his piss.
“I’ll do it, I’ll shoot!” he threatened, though his hands shook so violently I doubted he’d have been able to hit the broad side of a barn. “I’ll do it! I swear I will!”
Growing tired of his chatter, I leapt at him, knocking him to the ground. The rifle fell from his slack hands before he could get off a shot, tumbling away out of reach. I stood over him, my breath ruffling the salt and pepper hair clinging to his sweaty brow, and studied the fearful glint in his eyes.
I’d wondered a dozen times what it would be like to be on that side of the eternal struggle between hunter and hunted. Did his heart pound out a furious rhythm in his chest like mine did? Did time seem to stop, becoming crystalline and immaterial as the world narrowed down to a single moment?
I could have shifted back to human to ask him, but the hunger was too great, I needed to have his blood, hot and full of life, against my tongue, needed to experience his death. I needed it to quiet the frenzy in my mind and soul. Rearing back to strike, I was stopped by a burning pain in my shoulder, the force of the stinging impact rocking me back several steps.
Snarling, I turned in the direction of the shot to see Tim still slumped against the side of the truck, fumbling to work the bolt on his rifle, tears hanging in his rheumy eyes. A well placed paw left Dale clutching at the ruin of his throat, blood bubbling up between his grasping fingers as he fought for breath that wouldn’t come.
I stalked towards the older man, letting the sound of each languorous step seep into his brain, ratcheting up his fear until the air was perfumed with it, and I was all but drunk on its intoxicating aroma. The sound of his scream was music to my ears, full of agony and terror. His death was the sweetest, the wide arc of blood splattering down around us like scarlet rain, painting the snow crimson. His scream continued on, echoing amongst the trees as it drifted up to the wide open sky, fading into a bright melodic trill...
The insistent, high pitched jingle of a phone on the nightstand cut through the silence, rousing me from dark and violent dreams before it fell silent again. Swimming up into consciousness, I drew a deep breath, drawing in the scent of warm molasses and bare skin. The steady thump of Holbrook’s heart was a comforting beat against my ear as I nestled deeper into the crook of his shoulder, seeking out his warmth to chase away the ugly remnants of my dreams.
Cracking my eyes open, I squinted against the pale early morning
Baring my teeth in an excited grin, I let him get the rifle up to his shoulder before I burst out of the brush, hitting him like a ton of bricks, and knocking him flat on his back. The thunder crack of the rifle going off next to my ear was jarring, but it didn’t slow me down. Blood spurted, hot and sweet with fear, from the jagged gash in his neck, covering my muzzle with gore. A gurgling cry was all he managed before he went still, eyes staring unblinking at the dark sky. Back by the truck, his friends scrambled for their own guns.
In his haste and fear, Tim dropped his rifle at his feet, gnarled hands shaking as he reached for it. His fingers didn’t even brush the smooth wood of the stock before I slammed into him, driving him back into the side of the truck where his head impacted with a meaty thump. I watched as his limbs went limp and he flopped down to the ground, listing to one side.
I smelled the powdery fragrance of Dale’s cheap soap before I even heard the grate of gravel beneath his shuffling steps. “G-get away from him,” he stammered, his nasally voice shaking with fear. “Get away or I’ll shoot!”
Turning, I rounded on him with a wide toothy grin, delighting in the way the color drained from his face at the same time a dark spot grew on the front of his camouflage pants. The air was suddenly redolent with the bitter scent of his piss.
“I’ll do it, I’ll shoot!” he threatened, though his hands shook so violently I doubted he’d have been able to hit the broad side of a barn. “I’ll do it! I swear I will!”
Growing tired of his chatter, I leapt at him, knocking him to the ground. The rifle fell from his slack hands before he could get off a shot, tumbling away out of reach. I stood over him, my breath ruffling the salt and pepper hair clinging to his sweaty brow, and studied the fearful glint in his eyes.
I’d wondered a dozen times what it would be like to be on that side of the eternal struggle between hunter and hunted. Did his heart pound out a furious rhythm in his chest like mine did? Did time seem to stop, becoming crystalline and immaterial as the world narrowed down to a single moment?
I could have shifted back to human to ask him, but the hunger was too great, I needed to have his blood, hot and full of life, against my tongue, needed to experience his death. I needed it to quiet the frenzy in my mind and soul. Rearing back to strike, I was stopped by a burning pain in my shoulder, the force of the stinging impact rocking me back several steps.
Snarling, I turned in the direction of the shot to see Tim still slumped against the side of the truck, fumbling to work the bolt on his rifle, tears hanging in his rheumy eyes. A well placed paw left Dale clutching at the ruin of his throat, blood bubbling up between his grasping fingers as he fought for breath that wouldn’t come.
I stalked towards the older man, letting the sound of each languorous step seep into his brain, ratcheting up his fear until the air was perfumed with it, and I was all but drunk on its intoxicating aroma. The sound of his scream was music to my ears, full of agony and terror. His death was the sweetest, the wide arc of blood splattering down around us like scarlet rain, painting the snow crimson. His scream continued on, echoing amongst the trees as it drifted up to the wide open sky, fading into a bright melodic trill...
The insistent, high pitched jingle of a phone on the nightstand cut through the silence, rousing me from dark and violent dreams before it fell silent again. Swimming up into consciousness, I drew a deep breath, drawing in the scent of warm molasses and bare skin. The steady thump of Holbrook’s heart was a comforting beat against my ear as I nestled deeper into the crook of his shoulder, seeking out his warmth to chase away the ugly remnants of my dreams.
Cracking my eyes open, I squinted against the pale early morning
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