When he was hungry, he always found food.

Always. Only one swipe of his claw away.

His stomach erupted with demand to get up and fill.

Fill it with sweet, juicy ignorance.

He obeyed, scampering off through the trees, sniffing out for the best thing he could find. Forget the small animals, they won’t sate his hunger.

Be greedy, beast, be as greedy as you can get. You deserve it.

His mouth watered at the thought of something large, something fat.

Blood.

Blood was so tasty.

Flesh.

Flesh was so tasty.

The earth below him, soggy and wet, squished under his paws as he ran, taking different directions to find any smell at all. Maybe he was too far away from the living, again. Maybe his sense of direction really was as ty as it was supposed to be.

He could hear squirrels in the distance, chuckling away, cracking their acorns, as they observed him from far. No, they were of no matter. Those little devils weren’t worth the time.

He wanted flesh. Fast. Quickly. Now. Give it to him—give it up now!

He stopped his for legs for a moment, frustrated with his senses, dragging his claws down a tree trunk out of anger, sharpening his claws to make any fight he had quick and painless. He just wanted food. That’s all the beast needed.

The bark cried as he kept scraping his claws, the tips slowly growing sharper, shinier, and perfect for the kill.

He prowled around aimlessly, snaring at himself, nipping at his own fur in frustration. Where were the souls, the worthless living that he needed to prey on? He usually found them everywhere and anywhere. So why weren’t they venturing out this far? They were all pretty cocky animals.

His ear twitched, picking up on leaves and sticks crunching beneath foot a good half mile away to his left. He could hear humming from said animal, and from the sound, it was a nice, blood-filled human.

The beast’s mouth curved upward the best it could, stealthily rushing his way to the noise silently.

Expert in hunting, expert in silence (when it could be quite the loud-mouth), expert of kill.

He slowed his pace according to his distance with the human, prowling amongst the large leaves as he hid himself behind two trees, listening in as he heard the river just beyond him.

His eyes as he watched the human male, dressed in quite commoner attire, take a gander of the stream, slowly rocking himself sideways with his arms wrapped around himself.

The beast’s face screwed up in discrimination, finding this human really weird to be out alone and committing actions a child would do. This man had to be at least sixteen.

The beast readied himself to lunge at the man, not wanting to watch any further. He let his head slowly poke through the leaves, eyes on the prey.

The man removed his hat slowly, letting it fall to the ground, his short hair falling around his ears.

The beast stopped, staring.

Short hair?

That was a disgrace at this time and age for a man to have.

As much as the beast’s stomach demanded him to chase the human, he moved back into the bushes, not sure what was taking over him to make him want to watch.

The man undid his robe, slowly and gracefully, revealing he wore more clothing underneath that wasn’t necessary. He folded the robe, placing it next to his hat, slowly turning around to move both objects further from the water.

The wind picked up, and it left the beast on edge as the scent of this man came in flames towards him. He smelled so incredibly good that it was found odd to the beast.

The beast imagined at least a woman would smell just as good, but this was a . . . man.

No, kill, beast.

You are here to kill.

But the beast kept put as he watched the face look up and into the open, his thin, cat-eyes scanning the area cautiously, probably trying to assure himself a beast like the one watching him wasn’t there to catch him from behind.

The beast stared, his stomach’s demand becoming smaller in his mind, the voice of something else growing larger instead, and it hadn’t known what it was. It was foreign, to say in the most cliché way.

The man’s face was a beauty, alright. The sharp jawline, soft button nose, cute cupid’s-bow of his lips, eye brows thick like any man, pale in the flawless way.

The beast kept watch.

The man began stripping himself down, giving the beast a show of his torso. He wasn’t strongly built, but it wasn’t as womanly, either. It was . . . the beast hadn’t known.

When the man was bare, the beast his lips as he let his eyes wander to his slender legs—so nice looking he could almost taste it . . .

But the beast shook its head. Just in what way did he want to taste them? Because it certainly wasn’t what his stomach was accustomed to.

The man let himself into the stream, keeping still as he just looked around, peaceful, beautifully.

There was some internal stomp in the beast, a snap, and his fur began retracting, his body temperature rising, his heavy, animalistic breathing growing smaller.

The beast realized it. It clenched its jaw and started walking backwards reluctantly. But if the beast stayed longer, he’d transform into his other body, and that isn’t what he needed even though he wanted to stay.

He had to go find some other animal quickly. No, he wouldn’t kill this one, at least not yet. He wanted to keep looking at this creature. This definition of rebelling difference.

The beast stepped on a twig, alarming the human. He turned around, wildly searching into the trees the best he could, the panicked look on his face giving the beast a heart attack.

So the beast ran away, knowing it was making much noise to scare the human. But it was better to scare him than to give him a better reason to be frightened.

And it would be worth to see that human be frightened when he’d come back.

----Note~----

This is why I want to call this an 'introductory' or 'prologue' to this corner of the story. Because it's really short and vague, I wouldn't consider it a chapter.

Anyhow. I guess we all know who this is.

How's this gonna go down? >:D

I wanna know what you're thinking, if you're willing to give a comment. :P

Bye. c:

~FlaMinhoe