Thomas The Hellhound

~

It was a windy day as little Thomas walked along the beach. He hated it there, even though he loved to swim. The sand bothered him, like he was Anakin Skywalker or someone. He preferred the forest, where he could run without worry of someone seeing him.

You see, he was a hellhound. He was like a werewolf, but better. Infinitely better. He was vicious to his enemies, but a great friend over all. He protected them, keeping them safe from the hazard of humans and Reapers.

Humans and Reapers alike hunted and killed Hellhounds. They did this for several reasons, the prime being that they were a bunch of butt-hurt wimps. The minor being that humans killed what they didn't understand and Reapers killed what opposed them (humans do this as well, but only to common animals and other humans).

But, that's a history lesson for another day. This day, Thomas was going to visit his friend Martina. She wasn't a Hellhound though, and was unaware of their existence. It pained Thomas to have to lie to his dear friend, but he did it to protect her.

Cruel people in this world, human, Reaper, demon and Hellhound alike, enjoyed the suffering of others. As long as Martina remained unknowing, she was safe.

He was just a quarter mile from the beach front hotdog and ice cream shack when the day went from perfect to terrible.

The sky darkened, clouds rolled in from the sea, and the waves crashed violently.

Something, or someone, is on its way... thought Thomas, who clenched his fist till blood dropped onto the sugar sand.

A flash of white light--hot and quick--shot from the nimbus. Out of the smoking black crafted coated in rapid fire cooling glass stepped a Reaper. Dressed all in black, it was a terrifying sight. Their face was nearly impossible to see, but Thomas could make out the outline of a deathly grin.

"Hello, tiny pup." They laughed sadisticly. He swung out his scythe, but Thomas easily jumped over it.

"Is that all you got?" He howled once before effortlessly shifting into his half wolf-half human form. He leapt at the Reaper's throat, eyes clouded over with blood lust.

"I'm no pup," he growled, before ending the Reaper's life. In this world, it was eat or be eaten, kill or be killed.

And Thomas was fully set on killing and eating, if that's what he had to do to survive.