Opal

17 ☾ Wild animal

Opal POV

      My nose twitches while my stomach twists with a wrench of pain. I'm starving. The instincts running through my veins are screaming at me to stalk. To find. To kill.

     I put one paw in front of another, following a scent of something with a heart and blood and meat. The snow blows this way and that way, just another distraction from my real mission. It pulls the scent all over me, washing me with its pungent, delicious odor.

      There are no thoughts in my empty skull expcept for the thoughts of a wild animal. I can feel myself slipping away as someone else entirely takes control. Maybe this new me is good. Maybe this is where I'm meant to be.

     I quicken my steps, panting as my body feels heavier than normal despite how thin I've become.

     Food is scarce, and it's a fight to survive.

    My ears perk when the sound of wood cracking reverberates through the trees. It's a new noise, something to break the silence. My limbs freeze in place as I scan the horizon, curious as to what I'm about to eat for dinner.

     A yellow blurb crosses the snow with the tiniest sound of paw pads hitting the ground. A cat. A large housecat walking with no worries. It's collar jingles against its neck. Unsuspecting. Weak. Delicious. Plump.

      Part of my brain reacts, this rational part of my mind knows that this is someone's pet. A member of someone's family. They're expecting this animal to come home to them. They would be devastated if it were to go missing.

      But the instincts to eat and satisfy myself overrun this small desire to preserve someone's feelings. My stomach is ruling me, the inner animal controlling my body and making my decisions for me.

      I haven't eaten in weeks. It's time.

      So, I prepare. I crouch done low in the brush, tucking my tail and my ears as I watch every slight move from the round feline.

      It stops for a moment, looking around and swishing the tip of it's tail. Before it can think to take off, I spring towards it.

      The cat yowls as my jaw brushes it's leg. It hops out of my teeth before I can close them. The thing is quick as it bolts away. I give chase as soon as it makes a break for it. It's not going to get away. Not on my watch.

       I need this meal, desperately. Out in the wild, it's a fight to stay alive, a fight I plan on winning.

      But the cat is much faster than I anticipated. Soon, it breaks through the tree line, and I'm not paying attention when I sprint after it.

      All I can focus on is the yellow, fluffy tail of the animal I want to eat. My feet scrape across something hard and scratchy. But I don't stop. I'm blindled by the hunt. Controlled by my stomach.