Page 5 of Stolen By The Beast
Over the eons, my brethren had faded away until I’d been the only one left. The more I’d sunk into the black abyss inside of me, the less I’d needed from the world around me.
For whatever reason, I found myself roused to the point of searching for food.
The secluded location of my domain meant I was going to have to leave the comfort of my sanctuary to find food.
Even the forest creatures didn’t dare tread where I called home, but I caught the scent of a stag that I tracked at a steady pace.
There was no doubt it knew I was there, but it had no hope of outrunning me. The further I chased it, the more the trees thinned, and I knew what that meant.
Human establishments are nearby.
I would’ve done away with them long ago, but where there was one, five more lurked. Perhaps if my brethren were still around, we could’ve banded together to fight them.
Now they were just a food source I rarely indulged in.
While the forest creatures would suffice, humans provided an almost addictive banquet—a feast of emotions that no other animal was capable of expressing—flavoring my meal as I consumed their flesh.
Those who lived around me simply existed. The only thing they felt beyond their basic need for survival was the fear bred into their bones meant to keep them alive.
But humans were much different.
For a time, I’d watched them—studied them.
They expressed themselves in ways I’d never seen before in any other creature. Some things I’d understood, like hunger, but most were foreign concepts to me.
At times, they’d seemed almost at peace with their surroundings. The closest I had experienced to this was being sated after eating.
But even my introspection wasn’t tranquil, merely a reflection of the dialogue with the darkness that roiled inside me.
I wondered about the emotion that evoked strange sounds from humans and caused their lips to curl upward, baring their teeth.
It didn’t smell like fear.
My curiosity, though, wasn’t overcome by my dislike of the fleshy creatures, and I resigned myself to the fact that some knowledge may never be mine.
The deer feinted right, picking up speed, and I loped after it. Through the trees, the horizon became brighter.
Distracted, I paid no heed as my meal skittered away. Instead, my legs carried me forward, kicking up a cloud of fireflies.
All around me, they swarmed, their tail ends pulsing with light bright enough to pierce the darkness, but not so anything could see me.
Not that the creature who caught my eye would notice such nuances. The thing squinted into the woods, seemingly staring right at me, but I knew the tiny human only spied the glowing orbs of my eyes.
It swayed on its funny, spiked feet, as if lulled by the sight, before turning abruptly and running away. Instinct rose within me like a savage beast, demanding I chase and catch my quarry until I heard it.
Another human.
Taller and wider; a male of the species, I assumed. He called after the tiny one who had fled. The sudden thirst to hunt transformed into something altogether forgotten—the urge to protect.
The creature snarled, kicking the log structure it had come out of. He shouted after the other human, but didn’t dare cross over into the woods.
Good.
It’s the only thing sparing his life at the moment.
The predator in me easily recognized the same in him. Whatever he wanted with the smaller human raised my hackles.
I eased back into the forest, never turning away from the male until he was no longer in my sight. Then I adjusted my path to follow the other one with funny feet.
