Nathaniel
The copper taste of blood spills into my mouth as I sink my fangs into the warm flesh, I feel it tearing, fiber by fiber.
I hear the heartbeat of the animal, the pleads of its body to spear it, to stop. To free it, to give it a chance to live and to keep the fire in its physical shape longer.
It’s too late for this. The hold of my teeth won’t loosen. I tear a piece of the deer and he makes a pained sound before it exhales for the last time.
The blood spread to his fur coat, then tricked into the ground.
The hold of my fans relaxes, the kill making me feel alive. For now, it never lasts for too long. We believe the soul of the prey becomes ours once its living flesh perishes. We are one now.
I take a step away from the animal and its dead crystal eyes are fixed on me.
