That night, Dominick dreamed.
He dreamed and when he woke up, all that was left was only glances, sensations, emotions.
Only left were eyes red like rubies, trumpets like the howling wind and hooves like lighting striking down. Only left were shouts of joy and euphoric laughter. Only left was the adrenaline of running through the forest, the smell of the wet earth and the cold of the rain hitting the trees.
Only the feeling of having more than just a place to hide from all that hurts him.
But in the meantime, his eyes stayed closed, and he dreamed.
He dreamed how he ran through the nightly forest, dark and deep, but he didn't need a light. His eyes were perfect to find his prey within the shadows. How he howled at the moon and the stars, and others answered with roars that weren't neither human nor beast.
He dreamed of the fear of his prey, running for their lives with no hope to escape. Their cries, their pelts, their pumping hearts, their eyes, not buttons nor glass, but full of light.
Of life.
He dreamed of the blood that stained his hands, that got under his nails, his claws, of bodies that turned cold under his control.
He dreamed of white fangs and a name he was not allowed to know.
He dreamed of a never-ending hunt.
And him being another hunter.
YOU ARE READING
The Wild Hunt
RomanceTrapped in a home where he doesn't belong and surrounded by a town that views him as a freak, Dominick finds solace in the forest outside of his small town, becoming little by little one more of the creatures in them. But when he traps something he...
