Shadows of Light

Run.

My heart pumps blood through my veins. I see the trees blur as I go faster and faster. The wind whistles in my ears. My ears prickle as I hear the sound of pumping hooves against the forest ground. The sheer urge, the insatiable thirst for blood drives me on through the thick undergrowth. A flitting shadow among the bushes ahead tells me my prey is near. I can hear its heartbeat thumping in my head. Fast and irregular. It is nervous. Afraid. It knows that it has not the slightest chance to survive this chase, let alone this night. I hear a whimper and drops of a mixture of blood and sweat splatter across my lips. I think it has grazed its hide against a thorny bush. The rich sweet-salty flavor of sweat and blood makes my head spin, the urge to feed pressing against my very being, pushing me to finish the chase. I resist.

Too many trees. My fleet-footed prey has a natural advantage here and it knows that. Its survival instincts are too strong. I know it will never leave the protection of the forest cover. I jump upwards, the sheer power my legs pushing against the ground kicking up a whirlwind of leaves and dust. My arms grab onto a thick branch and swing me to the next one.

My predatory instinct has taken over my body. It knows where it has to go and what it has to do. I need to think of nothing but the exhilaration of the chase. The chase it what makes it worth the kill. My heightened senses picking up the smallest of details in my surroundings, the smell of fear from my prey and its knowledge of sure death. Without a chase, the kill means nothing to me. My legs and arms work in tandem, swinging me from branch to branch, the flexible branches of the evergreen trees giving just enough spring to propel me to the next one. I look up midair as I pass an empty patch of forest cover. The moon, the glorious moon, the sun of my night, shining down on me from its bed of stars. Tonight she appears brighter than usual to me, sharing my sense of power. As I grab onto the next branch and swing myself upwards, I see my prey right below me. It has slowed down. Confused. It seems to think I have given up the chase. It can’t sense me, stalking it from above. It relaxes a bit, kicking the ground few times, as if in pride at having outrun me.

It’s the perfect opportunity. The silence of the night engulfing us, I move ahead, ready for the kill. Silently I drop down, right in front of my prey. She’s a young doe and a beautiful one too. The moonlight shines down through the trees giving her lean figure a soft white halo. I stop, just for a moment to admire the beauty of the very creature that shall satiate my hunger in a few minutes. She is startled. Her ears flit in my direction and her eyes grow wide. Fear keeps her rooted to her spot. She knows she cannot run, and she cannot hide. In this forest, I am the supreme predator and she is but a mere morsel that shall appease me for the briefest of periods. I leap forward and she utters a single low, a desperate cry for help, as my fingers clamp down on her throat, crushing her windpipe. With a dull thump her body falls down on the soft forest ground. It’s done.

I crouch beside her, running my fingers over her soft hide. I feel the warmth of the blood still running through her veins, as her heart slowly ceases to beat. It will be a short while before the blood runs cold and rigomotor mortis kicks in. Enough time to have my fill of course. I Bend down and clamp my jaws down on her neck for that is where the skin is the softest. I would have, of course, preferred the heart, if it weren’t for the ribs. Too difficult to get through and not quite worth the effort. As my canines puncture her neck, the warmth of her blood drenches my parched throat with sweet satiation. The sensation is orgasmic. I immerse myself in it completely as I have my fill. The odor of fresh meat wafts through the forest air, tempting, inviting other predators to investigate. I should finish off quickly, for even with all the strength I possess, it would take more than one of my kind to take on a mountain lion or a pack of wolves. I dig my hand into the doe’s breast, my fingernails tearing through the hide as if it were putty. As I pull her hide apart, exposing the ribs, fresh blood spills over my hands, and I stop for a moment to lick it off. I can see the heart and lungs, now completely deflated. I tear out chunks of meat, tender and fresh, and bite some off. Meat may not suit my palate, but it is a necessity, for even with an immortal soul, my body is still that of a mere mortal. I hear howls in the distance. The wolves are coming. It may not be advisable for me to stick around anymore. I tear out two more chunks of meat from the body, and leap up to a branch, leaving trails of blood dripping from the meat as the wolves come bounding through the trees, no doubt attracted by the scent of my kill.

My hunger satiated and thirst quenched, I walk through the forest towards my rocky abode at the foot of the hills. There I shall sleep, sleep through the day, awaiting nightfall, so that I can emerge again, the supreme predator. Hungry. Unbiased. Merciless.