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A Modern Magicians Book

I ran, the four sharply armed feet below me carrying me quickly towards the smell of magiced blood. A magician was hurt.

For this, I had chosen to be a beast. A tall, terrifying monster of a creature, known only by myth to the rest of the world. Out of my many forms, this one was my favorite. My greatest creation, but not efficient when hiding.

My long arms left the ground, grabbing onto a branch above me and swinging my huge body over a fallen tree trunk.

I made a sudden turn to the scent.

In front of me, was a fallen magician, bleeding, with two Black Hands approaching slowly. A found a growl growing deep in my chest. Ignoring the notion of brutally slaughtering them, I leapt.