@beheadedtm because we love Suffering
it’s not often that the hunter becomes the hunted, but this time the creature has assumed the role of its own volition--a fresh kill has left the monster’s guard momentarily down, and while the intrusion of a brave soul is not uncommon on these nights, this attempted predator is not only a familiar face, but the absolute worst one that could possibly hunt it down in a state like this.
the face it wears now--its true one--won’t be familiar to him.
it’s impossible to miss the glint of silver that casts off of a long, thin blade caught in the moonlight when one possesses so many eyes, and though it has allowed the hunter this close so far due to its own negligence, the creature is immediately up in arms the moment it detects a threat. wild, glowing red eyes all shift and focus on the aggressor as it lets out a deep, guttural growl, hackles raised and rotted teeth baring from within a bloodied maw, but when its vision focuses and pupils narrow to tiny dots in a sea of crimson, the creature stops. it stares, unmoving, even the loose and amorphous edges of its body seeming to settle and still in the tense night air.
the hunter is bold--he it already knows this--and he doesn’t waste any time making his move. where weapons would usually fail, his blade cuts easily through the black mass of the creature’s body and it screeches, a horrible, broken sound that echoes in the clearing that surrounds them; instead of fighting back, though, it turns tail and it runs. disappearing into the thicket, its body shifts and changes to allow it to move with relative ease, but the injury still slows it down. dark, thick blood and a viscous black liquid seep from its wound and soak the ground in a trail behind it, but the mess evaporates into smoke just as soon as it settles, disappearing just as quickly as the white tips of tails slipping away within the foliage. as it runs, though, the creature begins to lose its solid form, wisps of black smog floating away in the darkness, bone and sinew and fur dropping off of its body and dissipating just as its blood does.
glaring red eyes vanish in the night, the heavy, bounding footsteps of the monster giving way to a lighter and quicker step, a very human sounding labored breath. the shape of a man rushes through the forest now, stumbling and tripping over his own feet but trying desperately to keep running, a long, deep gash running diagonally across his chest from one shoulder to the opposite side.
somewhere along the way he falls, losing his footing over the ripped up root of a tree stump and crumpling to the ground with a pained cry. he tries to get up, but the sharp pain that shoots up his leg from a sprained ankle prevents it, blood staining the dirt beneath him as his injury bleeds profusely with his elevated heart rate. dizzy, lightheaded, and out of breath, felix curses loudly and slams his fist into the dirt, then tries with shaking fingers to put pressure on a wound far too big for his hands.
