Fangs of Fury

Chapter 2

Prologue

The thunder rolls across the darkened sky, lightning flashes earthwards splitting a tree in half, smoke rising from the ruined remains and the rain hammers down on the parched soil of Africa. The creature sits on its haunches as it takes refuge in a shallow gully as night covers the valley like a blanket, the rain hitting its body like a volley of pin pricks, but it pays no heed to the sting from the rain as it tests the air for the scent.

The scent of the She is strong… it hangs in the air pulling the creature like a magnet and then another scent assaults its nostrils… a scent that brings a guttural growl from deep within its massive chest, exposing its killing fangs in a snarl, its hairs rise on its back and rage surges through its body. Its muscles tense and it makes ready to attack… to kill… to rent and rip… the unmistakable scent of the one they called Father… the one that was different from them, the one that had to be obeyed, the one that was a creature called human.

Standing erect, it moves along the length of the gully, the wind whipping the rain down in a torrent, the branches from the trees slapping at its hideous form, but it pays Mother Nature no heed. The scent has whipped all thought of the She from its mind… all it will do is attack and kill, to rid the stench of human that taunts it on the wind.

It moves with stealth and cunning for it has the mind of a killer. The gully ends in thick shrub and its evil yellow eyes take in the scene below it. A cluster of mud huts, the scent of the hated human stronger now, but no visual source of the smell that offends it. It sits back on its haunches, puzzled and slowly a memory surfaces… a memory of the lair where Father kept it, the lair that it escaped from and the memory of the She.

With a harsh bark of rage that echoes across the village below it, the blood lust rises and its fangs longing for the coppery taste of human blood. The creature now becomes the watcher as it sits and waits for it knows the humans are safe in their lairs, but soon they will emerge to be greeted, not only by the calls of the wild but by a creature that was not made by nature… a creature that was made by the hands of man… a creature that will kill for the pure pleasure and enjoyment of killing.

The songs of the birds greeting the day are muted by the screams of terror and horror that fill the village at the creature’s swift and lethal attack… its fangs tearing out the throat of one of the villagers, its bark of rage filling the villager's ears as they run, only to be brought down and killed, tossed aside as another victim catches the killers attention, and with lightning speed is overhauled and dispatched by those razor sharp instruments of death… the head of the corpse torn from its shoulders by a powerful silverback gorilla’s hands.

Silence descends on the village… the smell of death hangs in the air, and finally, the creature feeds, its hands and fangs tearing flesh from the bodies that litter the ground, their blood staining the earth beneath them.