3. The Hunt
The Hunt
MURDOCH
I sprint t’rough the forest, me claws tearin’ intu the earth wit’ each leap.
Trees whip past in red hazy blurs as me ’eart slams in me chest like a war drum.
I canna t’ink o’ anyt’in’ otha t’an blood an’ rage….
Me howl rips t’rough the forest, shaking the tree I hang on. The sound tears out o’ me raw, ragged, the voice o’ a creature hollowed out by madness, an’ t’at slowly ’as taken ova me mind…
Banes root.
Fer t’ree years, the poison ’as coiled t’rough me blood, thick an’ burnin’, ovatakin’ me day by feckin’ day. I’d t’ought the Hunt would ’elp, t’at it would give me time, but instead, it’s only fed the t’in’ eatin’ me up inside.
As I ’ang from the tree, I huff, snout in the air sniffin’ as scents ’it me thick an’ fast. Sharp, sweet, sickenin’. Omega heats….
The air is full o’ their pheromones… their fear… their lust, their deaths, but I dinna care.
I let go o’ the branch I’m holdin’ ontu an’ drop down ’ead first intu the statue in the ruined part o’ the forest where t’ere are rarely any trees… I stay t’ere fer a bit, baskin’ in the moon glowin’ red behind me because in the forest the sun an’ the moon hardly peek t’ro ugh
T’en I flip, landin’ on me two feet wit’ a loud thud, crackin’ the ground. I tear t’rough the trees, nearly immediately comin’ upon an Omega… a young man sprawled beneath the roots o’ a tree, eyes wide an’ glazed ova. Used… dead. Now jus’ a trap fer Alphas who hunger for power an’ money.
But only weak, greedy Alphas fall fer the ruse. Me howeva, the Hunt is’na about the prize.
Na really. Na fer most of us The checkpoint is an aftert’ought. Fer me, the money is meanin’less. T’is is about the Hunt itself . The kill. The dominance. The blood. More importantly, it’s about drownin’ t’is madness in violence befer it eats me alive.
I pause in me track an’ I sense ’em befer I see ’em, Alphas, who are tryin’ tu hunt me as they ’ave fer the last t’ree years. T’ey always t’ink I’m the beast tu best. Tu some, the t’ought o’ takin’ down a dominant Lycan is better than huntin’ an Omega.
I snarl, twistin’ me mouth, bloodlust flarin’ when ten o’ ’em arise, a pack o’ Ghouls, a dragon, Elks, goblins all barin’ t’ere teeth bared.
I meet ’em head on, claws out, grinnin’ as blood sprays, bones snap, an’ me teeth sink intu a t’roat befer I sling it an’ lunge fer the otha’s, graspin’ one by the ’ead, punchin’ a hole t’rough its stomach an’ crackin’ anotha’s back on stone.
In a daze, I kill ’em all until the only t’in’ remainin’ in the air is death.
I throw me ’ead back an’ howl. T’is time much louder, the sound echoin’ t’rough the forest like thunder.
Suddenly, a new scent on the wind makes me cock me ’ead tu the side. It’s na jus’ any heat. Na like the others… it’s mo re potent… Wilder. BURNING . It punches t’rough the ’aze in me ’ead, sharp an’ electric, makin’ me breath hitch.
Mine…
Another howl tears free, deeper, desperate, as I run toward whoeva she is… whateva she is. I will find ’er. It does’na matter… I’ll ’ave ’er.