Mature Content Warning
This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Graphic content; gore, dismemberment, etc.
They crept through the dark together, hungry bellies pressed to the dirt and eyes wide, roaming and wild. It was not two sets of eyes but several; a company, slinking between the trees of their once-home and then deep in to the valley. If they could not find solace in the glade tonight then other accommodations would be made; but they did not know their way, and their nervous chattering soon filled the eaves.
Something pursued this skulk of immigrants from the foxwood; it was larger than them by some measure, gaunt, as wild and as hungry and as insistent about living as they were. Where they ducked to weave between the trees, it followed. They did the trickery known to every tod, finding a narrow creek and then doubling back, hoping to mask their scents; but they were young—mere children by wolf standards—and the growing panic in their scent would draw the ghost to them regardless.
A shriek pierced the night, something unholy, and it set the skulk in to a deeper state of frenzy; a pair of vixens writhed together in the darkness as they sought shelter, and would not be seen again—and the youngest, a tod, was stranded for some time by his fear, which rooted him to the spot a moment too long. There was nothing around him that was familiar; then, the strike. A crunch. The befouling of the air came next, not from the foxes but from their discarded viscera—seepage that would turn the dry dirt black like tar.
Over this last body the lean creature lingered; hunched, picking at the flesh, peeling it away to expose more and more, though no piece satisfied them.
Something pursued this skulk of immigrants from the foxwood; it was larger than them by some measure, gaunt, as wild and as hungry and as insistent about living as they were. Where they ducked to weave between the trees, it followed. They did the trickery known to every tod, finding a narrow creek and then doubling back, hoping to mask their scents; but they were young—mere children by wolf standards—and the growing panic in their scent would draw the ghost to them regardless.
A shriek pierced the night, something unholy, and it set the skulk in to a deeper state of frenzy; a pair of vixens writhed together in the darkness as they sought shelter, and would not be seen again—and the youngest, a tod, was stranded for some time by his fear, which rooted him to the spot a moment too long. There was nothing around him that was familiar; then, the strike. A crunch. The befouling of the air came next, not from the foxes but from their discarded viscera—seepage that would turn the dry dirt black like tar.
Over this last body the lean creature lingered; hunched, picking at the flesh, peeling it away to expose more and more, though no piece satisfied them.
For @Merrick; written by JB.
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
Messages In This Thread
La mystique divine, naturelle, et diabolique. . . - by ThE nArRaToR - July 20, 2020, 05:57 PM
RE: La mystique divine, naturelle, et diabolique. . . - by Merrick - July 21, 2020, 12:36 AM