|
The Cocklebur King: A Tawdry Tale of Two Tallywackers |
|
|
|
|
|
|
No moonlight glistened off the mighty beast’s luscious fur as it padded silently through the brush with limber limbs that would make a panther jealous. Smooth as a silk spider weaving its web, haunting eyes searched for another meal to fill its hungry belly. A snap of twigs caught its attention, violently swerving its head with disturbing swiftness in the direction of the sound. It was a silent night, so quiet even the sharp intake of a human breath was as loud as if the being shouted.
White piercing canines flashed in a smile—if one could say a canid was capable of grinning. Its tongue lolled out in expectation of an easy meal…maneater indeed. They were the only ones to come out of the village, who dare to challenge the beast’s authority and capabilities as a ferocious hunter. The creature leaned forward, paws splayed as the tantalizing scent wafted into its nostrils....it could practically taste the man before even spotting him through the thick underbrush. A seasoned hunter, young enough to be supple in dodging obstacles in the forest and old enough to walk with experience. It could smell the sweat dripping from the tired man’s body, glistening on skin that was not garbed with homespun wool. Just a few steps, and it would have eyes on its prey. An easy mark for sure. That is, until it saw his face.
Harte, unaware of the monster tracking him tracking a full grown elk, paused to turn as the back of his hairs pricked up. Dark amber eyes sparkled in the moonlight as he frowned, stopping mere inches away from the hidden beast’s claws. A sense of uncertainty ran through him, running up and down his spine like a bolt of electricity. Large calloused hands grasped at a hunting knife, battered and despite being clean, had shown bloodstains from successful kills. Something was close. He could feel his heart fluttering with excitement as the lust for danger swept through his bloodstream. Harte didn’t know what it was, but he’d be damned if he let the animal go.
The creature hardly breathed, captivated by those soulful, but fierce eyes. Eyes of a killer, but there was something else…a tenderness that almost convinced it to leap out as Harte began walking away with a guarded stride, having picked up on the elk trail again; but tense enough to worry if he had competition for the elk he was closing in on.
It salivated at the thought of a competitor, a majestic creature with perhaps enough talent to steal kills from it. To devour from the same kill, working together to taking down the mightiest of animals the forest has to offer…just as long as it could look into those eyes and feel the ferocity reflected back on it. I must have the man, the beast thought, snarling to itself. The more it pondered what marvelous things it could do with the man, the greater the longing grew. Loneliness and aching sank into its bones as the beast paced wildly around the forest floor, feeling as if its heart was going to explode. It needed to see the man, to be with him, to be consoled and challenged by another fierce companion.
But the beast knew it could not see the man like this, not in this form. It would be killed on sight; a monstrous creature with corded muscles like ropes, claws that easily rendered flesh from bone, covered in thick dark fur that camouflaged it during hunts. No living creature had dared to look in its eyes and live to tell the tale. Leaves blew past the beast as the wind began to blow, sending a sudden chill through it. In the distance, the death cries of an elk pierced the silence. A feral smile crept upon the creature’s face, picturing the gory carnage and lapping up blood in victory at a fine kill. After all, it wasn’t the only wild being in these parts...
To read further into the series, click on the links:
➁
➂
➃
➄
➅
➆
➇
 Slick Southpaw · Sat Mar 22, 2014 @ 06:29am · 7 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
