The Hunt
09 May 2019Today’s prompt: “You track down an old boyfriend/girlfriend.”
Jamie’s scent is unmistakable, musky with just a hint of blackberry and clove. And even when the breeze wafts it away from its source, it doesn’t take long to find a shoeprint in the damp forest floor.
You raise your snout toward the full moon, the cold night air whistling across your furry jowls. It’s a beautiful night for a hunt.
A part of your brain whispers that Jamie deserves better than this. That sure, the breakup was bad, but your time together meant something. Jamie doesn’t deserve to die.
It’s entirely drowned out by predatory instinct, filling your brain with snarls and bared teeth and the thrill of tracking prey and the warm ferrous taste of blood.
The sneaker prints become more careless. You see where they trip, just catch themselves, and move on. Jamie is becoming exhausted. You quicken your pace.
The scent is getting stronger now, the warm musky blackberry scent that once haunted your pillows. Your paws churn the earth to follow.
You hear gasps for breath. And then Jamie’s there, in a clearing, stumbling. You leap, bite, tear, rend. Jamie screams, pushes you off. You roll across the forest floor and right yourself. Vicious red streaks adorn Jamie’s shoulder.
You ready yourself for another charge, and Jamie’s hand darts to a holster. You’re midway through another leap for the throat when there’s a flash of silver. Your heart explodes. The lupine bleeds out into the soil. Your human form returns, leaving you shuddering, naked, and dying in the forest.