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Rustling in the Bushes

A typical, light evening breeze blew the fallen leaves off of a distinct roof. This particular roof, his mentor’s usual spot of choosing victims, barely served for its original purpose of sheltering humans. The abandoned building stood in a composed way; almost as if it chose solitude over inhabitants. He blinked. His mentor stood in position, straight, like a pillar. His guru was probably the only breathing being, besides the rats and spiders, who even made use of the place. He sighed; the student had a hunch this would turn into a tiring chase.

His teacher hadn’t noticed him; yet. Sooner or later he would. As always. However, for the time being the student was in the clear. Usually, he exposed himself during the of the chase. He would miss an exit, or his foot would slip, or he would get lost in thoughts and breathe too loudly. It was safe to say he had a lot to learn still.

The student flinched; there was movement.

The guru scoffed as he lowered his body. He bent his knees and shifted his weight onto the heels of his feet. His dilated pupils followed one isolated slave. The next victim; who had the audacity to slack off while he hid in a small corner of an alley. The slave picked his nose. He lazily stared at his finger as he eyed the green prize that stuck to it.

The student suppressed a snort as his mentor narrowed his eyes in disgust. The former wasn’t surprised seeing the slave busy himself with such trivial matters. It was after all a prisoner from the lower class. In fact, all inhabitant from this city were part of the lower class. Masters and slaves; there wasn’t a real difference between them. Well, besides the obvious chains the latter group wore.

In all these years on earth the student hadn’t come across a human from this district whom he could call an intellectual. They were empty vessels. There were times he had doubted whether these humans even possessed free will.

He despised them. All they seemed to do was work, eat, and sleep. He had spied on them for several years; eying their movements, listening to their conversations, measuring their physical strengths. What that resulted in wasn’t much… These humans only seemed to have a care about which woman they would steal, which food they would consume, and how many hours they would sleep. Taking after his guru the student had grown hostile towards the useless maggots. And, thus, he had taken it upon himself to follow his mentor’s mission.

He would wipe them all out.

The night would soon be upon them and the masters would hide in their pathetic excuses for houses. The slaves, on the other hand, were not as fortunate. Day or night; it didn’t matter. They were obligated to fulfill their errands. For the hunters it was the perfect opportunity to torture the mentally weak. Show them who possessed the true power and make them understand how insignificant they were.

As expected, not long after that the sun left the town, and took the feeling of safeness with it. Now, it was their time to shine. The guru stood up and jumped from one roof to the other. He didn’t shed a single bead of sweat as his light body effortlessly moved in the dark; navigating with his strong sense of smell. The student, on the other hand, struggled- yet was close behind him.

Finally, both of them spotted the chosen victim. The tall, well-built slave carried a total of three pots. One of them on his neck and the two others on each shoulder. The student figured the pots were filled with water. He eyed the chosen one as the latter muttered to himself and struggled to keep his balance.

Something suddenly shifted in the air and the guru stopped jumping. He looked behind him and showed his student a determined smirk. The later sighed and dropped his shoulders. This time the mentor discovered him before the action had even taken place.

“Do you smell his fear?”

The student came to a halt next to the teacher and firmly took his place on the rooftop. He flexed his arm and took a closer look at the slave; the latter was frightened. And indeed he could smell it. He grimaced. “Honestly, it smells horrible.”

“It’s an acquired taste- similar to eating bheeves.”

The student pulled a face, bheeves… the fruit his mother made him eat all the time when he was younger.

“Well, let’s start then.”

The student flinched as his mentor swiftly jumped off the roof. Just like that. He didn’t hear a single sound when the latter’s feet landed on the soil beneath them. The mentor made sure to remain unnoticed- moving with calculated steps. He trailed the slave until they both reached a darker part of the street. The part where the moonlight couldn’t reach.

The student remained in his place. It could happen any moment and from experience he knew it would become ugly… I don’t want to wash my clothes tonight, he thought to himself as he took a handful of his salvar in his hands.

In the meantime, the slave became suspicious. He could tell something had changed in the air as well. He trembled as he looked in every direction; hastily searching for anything out of place. The hunter smirked. His eyes took in his surroundings. The doors and windows of the houses on the street were tightly closed. There were no lights burning in the small homes. A visible shiver ran up the slave’s spine. The guru knew the slave had become aware of his presence now. That single shiver turned into rapid shaking of the entire body. The guru smiled wickedly as he thought of all the possible ways of painting his new canvas.

The prey accidentally let one pot fall. The sound of the dried clay smashing onto the hard soil caused him to scream his lungs out. His high pitched voice echoed in the street before it slowly died out.

The student sighed; that was pathetic. For such a well-built slave he screamed higher than a woman.

The slave slowly bent down to safely put the other pots on the hard soil. Then he tried to pick up the broken pieces with shaking hands. The student lifted an eyebrow; why would a terrified slave bother picking up pieces of broken clay? Did the fear of punishment weigh heavier than the fear of losing one’s life? The student squinted his eyes. He noticed a single bead of sweat roll down the slave’s . It left a big, wet trail.

The student leaned his head back with a smirk. He saw it all happen- how the slave followed the path of the spilled water, to how he noticed the huge shadow standing behind him, to how he dropped everything in his hands.

The guru stood with confidence in front of the slave. His tall, intimidating figure emitted a suffocating smoke. His pointy nails stretched and nearly touched the slaves nose. He grinned, however it went unnoticed by both the student and the slave. The guru had taken advantage of the darkness by hiding his face in it.

‘’Please, Please don’t. I have a family…please...’’

The student rolled his eyes; begging was futile. His mentor would never listen to the pleas of the prey.

The guru moved forward; closer to the scared slave who had yet to move an inch. The student studied the paralyzed body of the human. He had already come to learn that the humans were unable to flee when they reached a certain degree of fear. And, usually they would start crying as well.

Ah… there it is. The thick, hot tears started to appear on the face of the slave. His knees shook so mu