The wind carries their howls. It carries their bloodlust and intent.
They are hunting us, even as we hunt them.
They are the only prey we do not eat though; such flesh as theirs must never pass our throats. We hunt them purely for survival.
They hunt us for sport, for slaughter and dark joy; a need for torn flesh in their teeth, blood spilt in moonlight.
They are stronger, but we are cunning. We are wolf.
They have lost nature’s subtlety, there is too much of man in them; too much of the men they were, in the daylight.
Echoes of Underworld here John, nicely, and darkly worded.
ReplyDeleteI love the entire story; every bit of it. But I was enchanted by the placement of the word "were". Wow!
ReplyDeleteThanks so much, both of you. =)
ReplyDelete"They hunt us for sport, for slaughter and dark joy; a need for torn flesh in their teeth, blood spilt in moonlight."
ReplyDeleteI can feel their pain and contempt through your words.
Thanks, GK. Some things are abhorred by man and nature alike...
ReplyDeleteReally like this. Packs so much into so few words.
ReplyDeleteOnly nitpick is that it should be "prey", not "pray".
Of course it should! Schoolboy error... *¬_¬*
ReplyDelete*edits*
Thank you. =)