they were all so wary - so watchful - and careful of him that they did not take the time to note the complete lack of care that was written on the dark hairs of his face. apathy was a devil and he carried it on his back with care and devotion, as if to contradict his own mentality. there was not another creature alive that concerned him, for he was already dead and he did not know what more there was to fear but the hell that he had found himself in. 

the ghoul mustered a gurgled sound from the back of his throat before he trudged toward her. she was different and he wondered if she actually belonged in the terrors of the suffering world at all. the wraith had never seen a dog; he did not know that her blood was tainted by domestication. it mattered very little, anyway. with a wet slapping of his lips, the ghoul marched at her and aimed to close all the distance that stretched between them. 

want? 

want was such a simple word. the world seemed to revolve around the premise of what others wanted. the ghoul didn't care for wants or wishes. he was a visceral butcher, and it mattered very little what he wanted. instead, he was more inclined to act on those things he was skilled in. he was working to earn his soul back, after all. he needed the devil to be pleased with his actions. 

not answering her, the ghoul trudged forward and slathered a thick glob of crimson paste from the side of his mouth. it trailed through the dark hairs of his muzzle and then splattered against a pale stone. he coughed - a wet sound - and then lunged without another thought on the matter. his yellowed fangs and dark purple tongue were aimed to snap around the flesh of her shoulder. 

the fear had a smell - a taste on the air - as he cut the space between them. there were no hopes on his part. though he was there to reap, there was not an innate need to quell the life of the world. he would take the lives he could and grant them to the devil as payment. he would be released when he had offered all that he owed. the ghoul felt a satisfaction when he was able to contribute to the great debt. this would either go toward his freedom, or it would flee in the dead of the evening. 

a sickening crunch as his body made contact with the other. his teeth were fine and snapped down with precision, meeting their mark without fail. he gripped at the shoulder of the wolfdog with a reckless snapping and pulling. when she whirled on him and aimed to snap her teeth to his crown, she too met her mark. he could feel her teeth close around his ear and he wheezed into her dark coat, shaking his head violently from side to side. the pain of it was exciting. he shuddered against the grueling snap of her fangs but did not release his own hold. 

the ragged, choking, gasps of his maw were starting to strangle him. were it not for her attempt to latch to his foot, the ghoul likely could have choked to death on his own spittle while attempting to reap her. the stygian fiend was a creature that lacked a great deal of care for his own well being, but he knew the difficulty of a limb attack. it would slow him down and weigh heavy on his already sickly figure; if she were to latch hold of his leg, he would likely die. 

the ghoul released his hold on her and jumped back, stumbling against the movements of his own body and feeling the stones tear away at chunks of flesh on his feet while he attempted to regain his balance. once he had allowed for space to be between them, he felt he was at a disadvantage. the ghoul bared rotten yellowed fangs to the wolfdog and uttered a gutteral growl that slicked from the back of his throat like a threat from hell. 

he had not done well in securing his target. she had found an opening where he had little means of protecting, and she had risked everything in an attempt to scurry toward it. the ghoul followed her with a flash of his inkjet gaze. though she had suffered damage, she did not appear to falter because of it. the hell hound released a wicked sound from the back of his throat that snapped in the air like a strangled cough. before he could move to pursue, she had already put enough space between them to make any attempt folly. 

the reaper felt shame and knew that the devil was playing tricks with him. he felt the burning in the base of his belly and allowed the warmth to flood his system. he had allowed that creature to escape when he could have stolen its life. he had allowed its fangs to tear into his very flesh. the ghoul cursed silently and followed the hybrid until he could not see her anymore. the drops of blood left behind were met with a dark tongue to collect them from the rocks where they had landed. 

not long after the wolfdog had left, the ghoul turned away and vanished into the shadows. his breathing was still ragged and strained; his eyes were searching for a new target.