The Final Showdown

[Ezekiel de le Poer]

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The savage in man is never
quite eradicated

Word Count »

He had been content, doing something or another that required only the mechanical repetition of his hands. Thus, when the cry first came, he almost ignored it. Instead he lowered the project and rose—only to be met with Alma’s face, full of panic. She sputtered out something that made his blood turn hot. Puppies. His sister’s? The others?

A savage snarl rippled across his face. His pupils shrank to pinpoints. “Take me there,” he ordered, grabbing his bow. While in his Optime form, the man was a natural runner; he would keep up.

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