[ P ] Carried Away By a Moonlight Shadow

F

rom the darkness, the beast stalked, orbs of blood red glaring through the darkness of the night like tarnished rubies, twin gems that no longer gleamed and glittered. Muscles screamed beneath a ragged, ebony pelt, in readiness tinged with weariness as she waited for her prey to appear. The dull, nagging sensation of starvation motivated the lone animal to keep going, to keep fighting, no matter the cost.


If only it were as simple as waiting for the next doe to happen along the path, but it was early spring, and the prey animals were thus inspired by their own intuition to continue forth in their wretched lives. She had had no luck in hunting for days. No, this youth had already learned an easier target was her own kind -- not their flesh, but what they often carried with them. It did not matter to Rue who they were or why they were there. All that mattered was her success, which would mean satiated hunger for at least the reminder of this night.


And so Rue waited for a lone lupine traveler in the night from where she lurked, nostrils searching for clues, dull crimson eyes restlessly seeking her next intended victim. She scarcely breathed, for fear that she would draw unwanted attention to herself. Despite weeks of uncertainty and hunger, the adolescent continued to grow taller, stronger, more desperate and willing to take chances. It was not that she necessarily enjoyed a life of thievery, but that was the reality that had become Rue’s existence, and the girl’s dark tail flicked behind her impatiently as she remained still.


@Lorcan

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art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

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Iron jaws grasp a thick haunch of red deer. The taste of iron seeps onto the behemoth's palate. His mouth waters in anticipation of the moment he will tear into this, but first he must find a suitable spot to feast. He had taken his rations for the night and disappeared into the forest, away from the others, where he can enjoy himself in solitude.

Lorcan spends little time at the barracks fraternizing — he is simply here to work and to fill his belly — instead spending his nights alone in the wilds, where he makes his futile attempts to sleep... which he inevitably gives up on to go patrol and watch for crime instead. It is a dull life, but better than the life of a rogue who hungers for sustenance and a purpose.

Rusty ears twitch to every subtle sound. The black-phase brute stays stays keen to the scents on the air, as watchful amber eyes glance about his surroundings, for he is never one to drop his guard.

@Rue

he wears the smell of blood and death like a perfume

there is fire in his eyes and ice in his veins

he is a star, burning with the light of a thousand suns

S

oon, very soon, her next target appeared from the darkness like a phantom. Rue’s breath hitched in her throat as she observed - she was too hungry to feel much intimidation, and her gaze rested upon the meat the stranger held. He could be anyone - a king or a pauper, Rue did not know, nor did she care. He was the target of the day, whether he was in poverty or riches. The name, the title of the brute was inconsequential. It was nothing personal, really. Her head lowered toward the ground, mind swiftly considering a course of action. She could not afford another loss.


She stalked forward before quickly changing her pace, elongated, gangly adolescent limbs carrying her toward the male, who she intended to pounce and take by surprise, if she was careful enough. But desperation did not always breed success. Her head was ducked low to protect her vulnerable throat, which had previously been attacked in a less-than successful theft, and was still tender and healing.


@Lorcan

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art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

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