A Cold, Pale Heart

Chase

This is all his fault.

You can see him. You can see him with your sharp eyes, far ahead of you- but not too far. You can smell him with your keen nose- a rank, musty odor, with the coppery scent of blood still clinging to him, even now. With your tall, pointed ears, you can hear each whooshing beat of his wings as he flees you.

It makes you so angry.

You forget how long you have been chasing him. Days, weeks, months? Years? You can't remember. Too long, and not long at all. It doesn't matter. You can still remember vividly every reason you are chasing him. Every reason was etched permanently into your mind by none other than him.

Oh, how you hate him.

Your own wings beat tirelessly as you pursue him. He must get the delivery he deserves. He must be brought to justice. And you will be the one to bring it to him, you are certain of that. After all, who else is there but you?

Everyone else is dead.

You do not allow yourself to entertain yourself with any thoughts but those of justice. Anything else is a distraction and must be disregarded. Justice is the only thing that matters now. It is the only thing that has mattered for a long time. Nothing is more important.

So you will kill him.

Once he has atoned for his crimes, you will be free.  You will take the ring from his finger, and you will destroy it. And that will be it. You will be done. Justice will have been served, and the memories of those he killed will finally be put to rest.

And you will be alone.

The thought pops into your head uninvited. You feel a snarl bubble into your throat as you cast away that useless thought. It doesn't matter. You will kill him. You will bring him to justice. That is what matters now. It is the only thing that matters now.

You can smell his fear.

Justice is good. Justice is right. It is liberty. Freedom. Perfection. Nobility. Fairness. Truth. Integrity. Justice is pure. Unstoppable. It is the delivery you are bringing to him, and as everyone knows, nothing- nothing- stops the mail. No matter what. You would not allow it.

And you will not stop.

Stopping- giving up- it is completely unthinkable. You would disregard the notion before it even fully formed. You will not stop. You can not stop. You will pursue him to the end of time, until one or both of you are dead. Everything he has done- everything he must stand trial for- it is burned into your mind. And it hurts.

You are so tired.

You have grown so cold.

And this is all his fault.