the thread where alarian finally fucking dies

Moath · (This post was last modified: March 09, 2019, 10:10 AM by Moath.)

There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...

Where most would learn to stop such carnage, where their wounds and aches would pain them and warn them to stop, to live and heal, Moath had no such concept. He would wander yet again, today, seeking the fulfillment of a bottomless void that resides in him.
Fresh urine caught him in midstride, and with a lowered top he inhaled the stringy wet information. Male, healthy. Middle aged. With the wetness came the scent attached to the pawprints, misshapen tracks that had an untimed beat to their rhythm. The metronome was unsteady.
But the thread was there.

And this he began to follow.

A silver figure was further up. A drag came with it, steam whirling about the slender figure as it made a 1-2 uneven march around the territory. This was too close to the Family.
This food was too close to the Family.
Food.

And then the urge arose.

And in silence, he waited.