Cry to the Moon

The Hunt

Disclaimer: This a work within the universe of Warcraft, owned by Blizzard. The characters are all original, the universe however is not. Anything recognisable, like locations, names and so forth is exclusively owned by Blizzard and I make no profit on the behalf of their work. This is a fanmade vent-story.

The eerie silence of the haunted, darkened woods was unnerving to say the least. The only sound within this part of the woods was the occasional slithering of horrible pests, which made this hushed bank their home, and her shallow, rapid breath. How had she managed to get herself into yet another mess that involved worgens? Then again, Amaline always liked to play with fire, it made her feel alive; but perhaps this time, she had simply gone too far with challenging the temperamental, former worgen-hunter.

A loud rifle shot had her nearly shrieking in fear and despair, yet even in that dire moment the agile, albeit short female kept her voice to its chords, drawing a sharp breath instead and moving immediately, knowing very well that he knew; he knew where she was, he knew how she fought, he knew she was the hunted one. He knew, very much so, that she was afraid.

She ran and ran, through the darkness, the light of the full moon seeping through the gaps of the dense-leafed, tall trees being her only source of light. Her trained, light blue eyes looked around carefully, her rifle armed, having been rid of the safety long now, she clutched it onto her chest and waited, unsure of what, she simply observed and listened closely, to her own racing heart, her ragged breath and then there it was, an ever so faint shuffling.

Her back slammed against the tree and she slid down across the harsh trunk, the sand-colored hair disheveled and full of twigs and leaves as she merely closed her eyes and drew a few breaths, concentrating. It was then that she saw the wolf head adorning a tall, muscular man’s face in her head; he was rigid, standing straight and observing about, his deep graveled voice sounding in her head.

 “The beast will always be faster than you, punt. You cannot outrun four legs and don’t even try climbing a tree, they know the trick. You can only lay traps and hope you are not a wimp enough to step into them.”

A faint grin spread across her torn, bleeding lips upon remembering his scornful tone and then realization dawned upon her as she slammed down her backpack and pulled the huge bear traps out, arming them one after the other around her. A delicate hand reached to her pouch at a vial of poison and she hesitated, she did not wish to kill or harm him, only to calm him down. Was there even calming the beast inside him down on a full moon’s night?

“They can hear and smell their victims from half a mile away. You reek of fear, punt… I could smell you from a mile away, such a wimp and you wish to hunt the beasts?!”

Her tongue ran across her bottom lip, wetting the dried, bloodied skin as she thought and clutched her rifle once more before closing her eyes, taking a deep, decisive breath. It was a long, risky plan she had, but he had a beast within him and she would exploit it to her best interests in this dangerous Russian roulette game.

He did not know for how long he was seated there, at that specific spot, simply holding his rifle in place, looking through the scope at the only entrance to that part of the forest. Was she even going to dare and hunt him? Of course she would, she was that type of person, the infuriating, stubborn sort. No matter how hard he thought, analyzed and tried to reason with this woman’s behavioral patterns, he always reached dead-end; she made absolutely no sense. But it mattered not, he was going to finish this unreasonable quarrel and with that, her pitiful existence that mocked the very meaning of the word hunter.

A crooked, sardonic smirk spread across his lips as he thought of how he’d make her beg for mercy, how he’d make her pay for the distress and confusion she had caused him; he imagined the fear on those defiant eyes of her as she would choke in her own blood, slowly dying and seeing only a wolf’s head as she sunk to oblivion. His vision was so vivid that he made him feel a few years younger.