The Rabbit ran, as fast as its legs could carry it, over the hill and through the valley that seemed to stretch on forever and ever. Its paws carried it across the ground, so quickly that the scenery blurred around it. Every once and a while it would dart to the left or right, or circle back on itself and continue to sprint.
The long grasses were soft and sweet, tickling its brown-furred body as it flew through them, its white-bobbed tail flickering between the stems. Dirt kicked up in its path, deep paw prints in the ground were left behind, but quickly stomped out from the pursuit of another animal—a much larger, much fiercer one. The wolf. Its massive form was closing in by the second, the rabbit could feel the heat of its breath on its kicking legs.
Daggers ripped through its flesh and fur, the scent of blood sprayed the air as the rabbit skidded, a massive paw slammed into its side. It tumbled across the ground, clawing to try and catch its balance but to no prevail, its efforts were futile. In this endless expanse of fields, ones it knew would never end no matter how fast it ran or how long it tried, in the end the wolf would have its meal.
The rabbit faltered. Fear. Fear. Afraid, terror, run! Pain, pain, hurts, hurts! It padded back against the soft soil. The crunch of bone crackled in the air as the wolf bit down on the rabbit's severed tail. The scent of gore, the aching in its paws, the fearsome gleam in the predator's hypnotic eyes, all spiraled together to cloud its mind with an unbridled, torturous horror.
"Dear Rabbit," the wolf growled, its voice deep and gravelly as if it had swallowed smoke, "why do you run from me?" The blood mixed with its saliva, the disgusting concoction dripping down its maws and staining the scarlet-drenched soil beneath its massive paws. "Let me come, let me feel your fur, my pet." The rabbit quivered, pressing itself against the ground. Its ears fell back against its skull, trying to tune out the sounds, trying to escape into its mind.
The wolf's hot breath tickled its face. Death. Decay. Blood. Help. Help! "Let me taste your soft skin," it murmured softly, "let me make you mine."
The rabbit's squeal was abruptly cut off as huge teeth wrapped around its throat, crushing its windpipe and cutting off all oxygen. The rabbit kicked, but its struggle was futile. Its spine began to crush, its head screamed from the agonizing pain behind its eyes as the life was ripped away from its body. The wolf shook its head, the rabbit fell to the ground, heaving for air but finding none. As the blood began to fill its lungs, its eyes stared at the sky, its vision began to blur.
Why?
It wondered.
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Wake of the Dead | Three
General FictionStolen away by the Reapers, Killian must quickly adjust to his new surroundings in order to survive. It isn't easy when your captor seems to have a constant eye on you, as well as the rest of his people. Now referred to as 'Rabbit' and used as nothi...
