~Feral~ C.G

Ch.1

It was early morning. The sun just now breaking over the horizon. The soft groans began to start up, the creatures awakening from their 'Sleep'. She stumbled up, looking around the forest. Creatures began to shuffle past her, milk white eyes staring blankly ahead. She shuddered. They all freaked her out, always sniffing at her and growling. She knew they accepted her as one of them, but she didn't want to be one of them. They were lifeless shells of humans. Strangers and ones she once knew.. She hated them.

Taking a shaky step forward, one walked past her. Slightly bumping her shoulder. Glaring, she stepped away. It groaned at her and stopped. She stared it down, her own milky eyes locking with it's. It simply just wheezed and trudged along. She sighed and jerked her head into a shake. Continuing to follow the others.

They soon came up to the side of the road. The others stumbling through the hole in the barriers. Pushing against each other, growling and shoving. She frowned. They were all animals. Then a tangy scent began to waft through the air. She could feel her mouth water. She hated this, hated eating what they did.. She missed the foods she loved. But in this state, they provided her with nothing, just more hunger.

But when the food started screaming and running, it triggered something. A primal urge to chase, to feed. All of them had it. She felt a sick satisfaction from digging into its flesh, feeling the warm blood rush over her cold hands. making her fingers stick together. Her nails would always have remains of the flesh, the scent even lingered. Causing her to want more.

It was disgusting, animalistic. Degrading even. But sometimes, she couldn't control it. After it was done she'd stagger back, her growls and screeches going silent. The others would look at her, even if they didn't show it. She could feel their judgement. She wasn't like them, and they knew. She wouldn't eat for days after that, refusing to even leave her spot. Simply settling for letting the moss grow on her skin and the crows pick at her hands. It was a cycle, a cruel one at that.