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Nostrils drew unscented air down into ravaged lungs. The absence of taste lacked the promise he so desired, but hope still burned within the murderer’s devilish orbs. Sanity was a state of mind that he could never know, for he had been born into fire and pain, and that was a brand that would forever scotch and burn whatever soul there was left in him. The body of the unfortunate male wolf that he had dug into with the poor guidance of his live grandson hadn’t lasted more than a few days. The soul had turned to ash in the demon’s mouth, and the body had leaped to reject his unholy presence even before he had been given time to devour its original owner. His presence wasn’t meant for the common mortal vessels. But the magic resided within his bloodline, he was certain.
The pale girl had been judged unworthy the very moment he had placed his terrible gaze upon her innocence, but she had proven most useful. Spirits were supposed to be untouchable, but he had destroyed soul in the past and ached to do so again. After all, they were the only nutrition known to soothe the burning fire within his hollow frame, and like the destroyed addict he was known to be, it was impossible to stop to pursuit sense. All this damaged mind could focus on was his next meal; his next victim. He had taken her life once, and soon he would bring her a final end. It wasn’t an act of kindness, for that word alone was incomprehensible to a creature such as he. All he wished was to soothe his boiling self. All his actions were made out of greed.
Scarred muzzle sharply turned as his prey was discovered. Had his dark presence been that obvious? Stained teeth laughed at the panicky form of the fleeing girl; his daughter through flesh and blood. Terrible blue seemed to roll within their sockets as the madman laughed, insane as previously seen by those who he had greedily feasted on in the past. Flesh and blood and decay. He could smell it now; the adrenaline spiked blood leaping with the pulse he loved to still. The impulse to race after the fleeing optime wasn’t questioned. Elongated claws left deep tracks in the dry soil behind him as ruined muscles were pushed to their limit. Laughter had stilled within his ruined throat, for he was a quiet hunter, only pausing to let his madness ripple through the air once his victims had fallen. And this one had yet to be caught. How wonderful.
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