Let Us Prey

He'd had little appetite for longer than he could easily remember, his thoughts dark and filled with violence as he prowled along the edges of the Settlement and across the fields. The animals of the Hollowed Grounds were lean things, unappetizing, uninspiring. The people, now... that was a different kind of hunt, one that he would need his full strength to undertake.

And to reach his full strength he needed meat. Flesh. Raw and pulsing with life'sblood and vitality, red and hot and sweet. Just the thought of it had him salivating black bile, though every swallow of it only made him more hungry, more feral, more desperate. He crossed the outskirts on fox feet, small and nimble, but the death of a mere mouse or vole would not satisfy him today. He wanted something he could sink his fingers into, a feast, not a morsel. He wanted something big enough to tear apart and savor as it screamed.

He regained a man's shape as he passed into the Greatwood, though he retained a fox's ears and claws as evening fell across the land, blood-red sun painting the snow in beautiful shades of gore. It was a good omen, and lips lifted away from sharpened teeth in a snarling smile as he prowled through the Wildwood, the forest's magic useless against a beast's simple mind.

A small gryphon flew overhead, sharp eyes scanning the world below for signs of prey as her companion's hunger drove and twisted within her, cheerful heart turned wild and unpredictable as she sought the food they needed.

There. A flock of turkeys were bumbling their way to a night's roost in a copse of hemlock trees, clucking quietly to each other as they did. They were large and fat in spite of the Greatwood's sickness, but wary as they settled beneath the branches, clucking softly to each other as they blended brown feathers into brown bark and shadowed boughs.

Melita

I am my mother's child, I'll love you till my breathing stops
I'll love you till you call the cops on me

The ferocity burned between her veins, her marrow, her bones, pushed against onslaught after onslaught, curling, coiling, and contorting along her senses until she was no longer Melita, but some other feral, wild child. Whatever compassion or beneficence instilled in her heart had been eroded and decayed, wilted, withered, in the spread of the blight. And now she was hungry. Nothing that mere eating could satiate or satisfy; she wanted to ravage, to plunder, to pillage until something broke apart and fizzled in her hands, the life gone and shattered because of her actions, her treachery, her debacles. More monster than human, she maneuvered without Fangorn, the gourd left at home (anxious, apprehensive, incapable of keeping up with her serpentine movements and bestial inclinations), passing through woods, boughs, and ice, finally managing to find some fur to nestle within. Her senses were alive and overwhelmed, head lifted as if she could sniff out prey – Instead, her eyes flickered over to a man with fox ears – to ivory hair and blue eyes that should’ve been more than recognition, more than familiarity. Instead, she simply seared and sneered, a growl in her breath, crouched low to the ground, gaze following Jigano’s as the soft sounds of local fowl crooned beneath branches. It only took her a moment to launch - didn’t think of him, but of the meat, the frenzy, the fury, the barbaric wake annihilating her membrane – rampaging, leaping, bounding, hurtling so her hands could wrap around a large, fat bird. M e l i t a But in our darkest hours, I stumbled on a secret power I'll find a way to be without you, babe

It was almost more a sense than a proper sound as he glanced over his shoulder to spot a ginger-curled head approaching along his lengthened shadow. He knew her he knew her he knew her, and she was dear to him, this laughing summer's daughter but he did not care. In that moment she was competition, not packmate and certainly not friend. What did that word even mean? He should have known, but it was hazy and hidden in darkness. He bared sharp teeth at her, warning her away in a silent snarl as he crouched, moving with stealth, preparing himself to spring.

She sprang first, too soon and too low. Perhaps it was Isuma's shadow passing overhead or simply a shift in the wind that brought the sound of their posturing into the copse, but by the time Melita had made her attack the birds were already calling alarm and flapping broad wings to lift fat bodies off the ground. They weren't so fast that she came away empty-handed: a fistful of bloody feathers were torn from one bird as it screeched and scrambled to reach the higher branches.

Jigano moved a moment after the girl, taking that space between racing heartbeats to see which way the birds were rising. He flung himself into the flock but his hesitation had its price. He closed clawed fingers around a bird's leg and yanked viciously down, dragging it from the sky, but it was more scared than injured and it fought back with buffeting wings and vicious jabs of its sharp beak as the white-haired blightbeast sought to get control of it.

I am my mother's child, I'll love you till my breathing stops
I'll love you till you call the cops on me

Melita had never been gifted or granted magical or shifting powers of any kind; and now, only now, now, now did she have the opportunity to experience the animalistic ventures, the carnivore endeavors, the twist and turns of upheaval by inherent design. If she’d had claws she would’ve torn asunder. If she’d had fangs she would’ve sunk them into flesh. Instead, it called and clung to her like a second skin, all too human, all too immoral, plunging hellbound for feathers, inherent and ridiculous, forgetting friends, forgetting allies, forgetting comrades. Why would she need them when she should’ve had sustenance? Why would she need them when she should’ve had devouring spells and the dying strands of a fowl in her hands? Instead, they were empty, save for bloody plumage, plucked straight out of the turkey’s frame with malevolent force, free regardless of her actions, scrambling its way into copses and treelines, safe for the moment. Her eyes watched it, the rage of disappointment sinking into her gut – a waste of energy when the blight had taken completely over, sinking and sucking out any ounce of preservation – then gaze swung towards Jigano as he intended to make his mark. His fingers sink grab a leg, and there was half a moment where she thought to laugh at the bewildering picture – the creature fighting off its attacker, hooking and harpooning its sharp beak into flesh. But oh no – that wouldn’t do, not when she could assault and siege on her own. It was an opportunity, and she took it. Lunging and launching again, she traipsed for the bird in his grasp, palms aching for its neck while her legs kicked out at it, fighting for a piece, for a chance, for an opening, hissing, growling, sputtering, ruthless in her approach. She’d learned naught from her prior attacks, and simply aimed to bludgeon, contorting her fiendish actions into any portion of force; a ferocious, fervent, feverish display of aggression and potential. What she could’ve been all along. M e l i t a But in our darkest hours, I stumbled on a secret power I'll find a way to be without you, babe

It would have been better if he could have grabbed a wing, perhaps, to tear and shred and render the bird flightless, to be stalked and taunted and dismembered at his leisure. Instead the leg he had grabbed opened him up to retribution from the frantic fowl as it struggled to get away, and the buffeting of its wings left bruises, even as its beak opened fresh wounds upon the arm he struck with, trying to land a killing blow while his other hand was full of jerking leg and raked by claws.

Then, too, there was his rival to contend with, that insolent child who dogged his heels and tried to steal his kill. He bunched blight-fueled muscles in a rage as he dug his feet into the snow and twisted his body sharply, trying to beat Melita with the struggling bird. Luck was with her, for though it was enough to make her miss her feral attack, striking naught but feathers and padded flesh, she was spared any more than a bruise from being bludgeoned with the weapon most fowl.

The bird was not so lucky. Stunned by its impact with Melita, it went momentarily limp as it reached the nadir of Jigano's swing, and its head impacted the ground with a sickening crunch as its skull met a rock hidden just beneath the thin covering of snow.

I am my mother's child, I'll love you till my breathing stops
I'll love you till you call the cops on me

She snarled and snapped; if she’d had long fangs they would’ve slipped past her mouth, her jaw clutched thereafter, sheltering a menacing, feral growl, completely at a loss with whatever human instincts she’d had. The youth was a twisted machination instead, coiled and contorted in boundless entropy and acrimony, no reserve for her treachery, no regret for her annihilations, beaten back and away from the bird, but only just so – her mind was not on the distant pain, the promised bruise, but on life and death and how she could court the former into the latter. The crunch resounded against her senses, a maddening declaration of potential demise. She didn’t hesitate, launching again, diving, diving, diving for the turkey’s feathers and legs and whatever else she could snatch upon. Her intention was to take it all for herself, he couldn’t have it, no, no, no, aiming to stake her claim, intending to rip more than just plumage. The blight wanted flesh. The blight wanted disaster. The blight wanted irreverence. It had poured into its demands and assertions too, clutching them both in havoc and disregard; as if they were nothing more than the rest of the wildlife, beasts and fiends, monsters and thieves. M e l i t a But in our darkest hours, I stumbled on a secret power I'll find a way to be without you, babe

Sharks circling prey, fighting for the first bite and the second and all of the bites couldn't have been more vicious in their behavior than the two blighted friends foes who fought over the turkey as it went limp between them. Jigano had a hold on the leg, but Melita grabbed onto the bird's wing and the bard snarled at her temerity, jerking at the leg he held and taking a swipe at the honeybee black-blooded young woman with fox-clawed fingers that dripped red with blood.

The bird was warm though its heart had ceased to beat as they wrestled over it, fighting for the sweet flesh hidden beneath soft feathers while its brethren made their panicked escape into the falling night, calling fearfully to each other. The sun was fading into the west, shadows lengthening and darkening as it did, but even as the red reflection faded from the snow, fresh red blood took its place as the carcass that had become the rope in a macabre game of tug-of-war tore and bled freely under the rough handling of the beasts that fought over it.

There was no longer any sense of friendship between them, no camaraderie of lost souls or packmate hunters. They were rivals now, enemies who recognized only the interference of the other, blight-stricken and beastly in their worst impulses.

I am my mother's child, I'll love you till my breathing stops
I'll love you till you call the cops on me

Her mind could only stretch into simplistic measures; gone was any wiry, cunning tangibles, threading into only primordial, ancient values of instinct and inherent abilities. Mine, her growls, her hisses, her rumbles, seemed to say, nails like grasping, rapacious claws, diving out of the way as the pale man strived to take a swipe at her; not to be deterred, not now, not ever, a value once considered persevering and enduring in her humane, altruistic form – presently, it was a twisted, condemned thing, bleeding and beating into the surface of crimson-streaked snow and a poor, hapless bird who’d been unlucky in its final moments of life. She grabbed and pulled again, aching to feel all the weight of the bird in her hands. As if by more claiming insinuations, she reached and aimed to ensnare her mouth towards the wing – despite an utter lack of meat, all feathers and plumage, ripping, ripping, ripping, vicious in her distortion, wild in her motions, completely, utterly unhinged from anything and everything she used to be. Melita was gone, and in her place was something strange and malignant, a blighted, brutal force that should’ve given anyone pause, if it hadn’t been normal circumstances, if it didn’t keep occurring anywhere and everywhere in between. M e l i t a But in our darkest hours, I stumbled on a secret power I'll find a way to be without you, babe

His swipe missed and, worse, it seemed to give Melita only more determination to hold and tear, snarl and cling to the hunt, the kill, the prey that was rightfully his and his alone. He howled his rage to the setting sun, sinking his clawed hand into the turkey's back and holding fast as summer's daughter the blight-stricken beast across from him sank bluntly human teeth into the feathers and skin of the turkey's wing. He heaved a final, desperate gamble to regain his stolen, tainted prize and with a sickening wet ripping sound the wing and a large chunk of muscled breast pulled away into the wicked child's possession.

Blood did not so much spray, for the heart no longer beat, but it splashed from a hundred torn veins and arteries, a treasure in garnets shining upon the white silk of snow beneath them. Jigano stumbled back at the sudden lack of resistance, slamming his back into a tall, straight pine with a grunt, but he wasted no further breath upon the interloper who had nearly ruined his hunt. He tore off a handful of feathers, burying his face into the skin of the bird and ripping at it with teeth he didn't bother to shift to a fox's sharper fangs, enjoying the feel of resistance and rending that accompanied his bites as sweet, thick blood filled his mouth and he gulped down gobbets of flesh swiftly cooling in the winter evening air.

I am my mother's child, I'll love you till my breathing stops
I'll love you till you call the cops on me

Were she whole, were she real, were she not transcended onto some other bewitched, enigmatic plain, Melita would’ve been ashamed, humiliated, by her current antics. But the blight’s measures were too much, too much, too much, and instead of ridiculing herself for the eerie condemnation, for the beastly conjectures, she was triumphant, pulling apart wing and breast, chunks of raw, bleeding meat, a wicked, tarnished smile wrapped around her teeth. She longed for them to be fangs. She growled and ripped into the flesh, marrow, and tissue, a conquest worth savoring, raising her hackles again at the fellow beast – completely indistinct, both unrecognizable, gone and gone and gone again, nothing to be cherished or relished in those fine, fickle moments. But she didn’t want to remain there much longer, not when a threat still existed, not when she’d earned her well-fought prize. The youth sneered at him again, then placed the portions of her kill back into her mouth, some contortions left in her hands, bloodied and ruined and sanctified by naught – leaping, bounding, and hastening off from whence she’d come, intending to enjoy her meal in privacy. M e l i t a But in our darkest hours, I stumbled on a secret power I'll find a way to be without you, babe

Flesh, fresh and hot and bloody, didn't sate the blight within, but it gave an illusion of lessening the pulsing drive for more violence, more blood, more destruction, more death. Black eyes watched Melita with burning hatred over a mouth that dripped black saliva down his chin, mixing with the bird's blood on his tunic as he stuffed as much meat down his maw as he could manage, heedless of the raw, chewy texture of it, intent only on making sure that she did not get it.

She was a mirror of him, if only he knew, as they bristled and snarled through their unholy meal. They moved at nearly the same time, each driven by the need to hoard as much of their ill-gotten treasure as possible from each other, and as Melita sneered and stuffed her stolen meal into her mouth, Jigano hissed back at her and dropped to a crouch, spinning around the tree and racing into the shadows of the fallen night, realizing only when no sound of crunching feet over snow followed behind that he had lost her. He threw back his head, letting out a bone-chilling victory howl that silenced the creatures of the fields and woods around him before he dropped to a crouch and turned his attention to gorging on the bleeding meat still in his hands, taking strength from it for further wickedness to come.