I pull him back into my hovel. My killing-ground.
I lift him. He is light.
I smash him. Down. On the floor. The earth shakes.
He is not dead. He is winded. He gasps.
I raise my foot. My clawed, heavy foot.
I stomp.
On his chest.
CRACK.
His scent of terror is gone.
Two.
I want more.
The red haze demands it.
Screams. Fire. Smoke. Threats. Everywhere.
I move through the doorway. The village is burning. Men. Raiders. They are killing. They are burning the huts.
They are threats to her.
A raider sees me. He is holding a torch. He is about to throw it on a roof.
His eyes go wide. Good.
He screams. Good.
I charge. He throws the torch. At me.
Foolish.
The fire kisses my hide. It is hot. It is nothing. I am rage. I burn from the inside.
I backhand him. A flick of my wrist. My claws take his face. He spins into the air. He is gone.
Three.
"BEAST! IT'S A FUCKING BEAST!"
A shout.
Two more. They have swords. They run at me. Together.
Prey. Running to the predator.
The red haze laughs in my skull.
The first one swings. He is fast. I let it hit.
A sharp, cold bite in my shoulder. The blade sticks in my muscle.
