Always running his mouth, yeah he's got a few scars
There was no real plan behind his pursuit, no overarching itch to be scratched by casual cruelty, all that fuelled Nate now was anger, and he was a beast well used to its grip. His eyes were sharper in the dense forest, still dark despite the best efforts of the moon above, and his ears too were well tuned, picking up the sound of a desperate crashing through the underbrush.
Pinning him to the ground would have been a good plan, with anyone else, any other race. But Nate was made bolder by the pain he didn’t feel, more prone to stalk and chase even with the injury. He followed the sounds of panicked flight, his own motions quieter, though not completely hidden. He was still a man rushing through an unfamiliar jungle. There was simply more intention to his motions, the directions he chose. And he could feel, with each passing step, that he was coming closer to his quarry, to something that he could call revenge, despite the way his own actions had driven them to this place.
Pinning him to the ground would have been a good plan, with anyone else, any other race. But Nate was made bolder by the pain he didn’t feel, more prone to stalk and chase even with the injury. He followed the sounds of panicked flight, his own motions quieter, though not completely hidden. He was still a man rushing through an unfamiliar jungle. There was simply more intention to his motions, the directions he chose. And he could feel, with each passing step, that he was coming closer to his quarry, to something that he could call revenge, despite the way his own actions had driven them to this place.
NATE
