She crawled throught he mud, her black pelt hiding her in the shadows cast by the darkening sky. She padded slowly, carefully; her thick fur sheltering her from the cold bite of the winter air. The sun's last rays disappeared in the horizon; the moons soft glow the only light seen for miles.
The wolf stalked closer to her prey, the rodent's light pelt shrouded in moonlight and its long velvety ears draped around its neck. its beady eyes were closed; its chest rising and falling at a steady rythm. Her sharp green gaze studied the small creature for a few heartbeats, before she crept closer.
Her huge paws were quiet on the soft ground as she crouched a few tail-lengths away from it, downwind. She flicked her ears, listening. Her large eyes, once full of life, now scanned her surroundings emptily before returning to the sleeping form of her prey.
She took a deep breath. Her muscles tensed, itching to sink her teeth into its soft flesh, to feel the thrill of the hunt. She bared her teeth and pounced. The rodent's beady eyes shot open as her long claws sank into the flesh on its back.
She was the hunter and it was her prey. She felt like she was finally in control of something, even if only temporarily. The she-wolf reached for the creature's neck with her jaws as it struggled to free itself; its black eyes glinting in the soft moonlight as it let out one last terrified squeal as her jaws closed around its spine, snapping it with a loud, satisfying crack - The only sound apart from the cold wind pushing the branches of the trees with its gentle hands, caressing them, the branches creaking and groaning as they swayed.
She watched as the life slowly drained from the creature's eyes, much like her pack's as they fell one by one. She finally couldn't take it. She sighed sadly, looking up at the stars, shining with the souls of the fallen.
Sarka howled, a long, echoing sound full of unspoken emotions & broken promises, as the moon and the wind quieted, listening to her story as it was written with unspoken words, watching with sorrow and empathy for the rogue. They watched as the life slowly ebbed from her green eyes, much like the creature lying at her feet, but her heart... it still beat. She just wasn't living anymore.
...
...
...
...
...
...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A.N: Heyo, I just wanted to ask you guys to comment what you think, and to please vote if you liked it! I might make a book out of this but I'm not sure yet.. What do you guys think? PLEASE COMMENT BELOW!!!!!!!!!! <<< If you wouldn't mind. *throws delicious french fries at random readers* Cause I mean why not.
Oh and yes. This is the same person that wrote that up there /\ /\ /\
I have adark cause after all, "Its the demons that make us beautiful" isn't it?
And yes. I also made up that quote. I mean it probably already exsisted but I'd never heard it before i'd thought of it so.. *eats half a french fry and dumps rest of bowl on reader's head*
YOU ARE READING
The Hunt
Historia CortaIt's funny how the past can come back to haunt you isn't it? Memories pounce on the predator, making you their prey, but I guess that's what makes us human isn't it?
