Overture Downs Let's raise some hell, shall we?

The more Nunataq ate, the stronger the hunger inside her grew, which was odd, because usually things happen the other way round. Had she known or been able to tell the difference between the physical hunger (ache and rumbling of her stomach, empty feel) and the several kinds of, how her brain could be famished, she would have realized that the adrenaline and bloodlust was still circulating and that the smell of the still warm and fresh blood was that kept the wheels of her predatory mind spinning, craving for more. The same instinct that makes stray dogs kill a herd of sheep, rather than taking down just one and devour it.

By the time she had an audience (which she had not caught sight off yet) of a big cat, who enjoyed fighting, dismembering wolves and assembling one of his own from the various body parts he had torn off in the process, the girl had almost finished with her meal. Her stomach heavy with all of the food it had to process (quite a job, since Nuna did not chew much), while she was still going through the grass and earth that had served as a plate for the food, licking up every last bit of blood that was left there. Then it happened - a sickeningly sweet, cooing voice from the darkness, needy and pleading, but with a hint of fake in it as well. The girl stopped, what she had been doing, looked up and listened intently.

She was not a particularly empathic person, therefore she was more baffled by the invisible caller itself than inclined to go right away and see, who needed help. Her mind processed, what facts it had already picked up (odd, false, suspicious), came to a conclusion that there was something very wrong about this, turned on her heel and began to walk towards Lost Creek Hollow, stopping often and looking over her shoulder, in order to find out, whether the mysterious person was following her.