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Cade's Journal


Cade's Journal

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1 entry this month
 

Awake (a tale)

21:30 Dec 04 2011
Times Read: 593


I circle the creature again...this close, I can almost nip at it's flank with little effort. It is slow, but loud; the shrieks it wailed as the others like it forced the creature into my attention were deafening. Now, it just seems to whelp whenever I bare my teeth, cowering in on itself with it's legs pulled tightly against it's chest. All I smell from it is fear, delicious fear, but I picked that from almost a span away, while the creatures were venturing close. From the smoothness between it's legs, it must be female...although it has too little fur and too few nipples than I am use to seeing. The only fur seems to come off it's head and looks long, like a tail. I cannot imagine the use of a tail there, though...the fur doesn't look like enough to cover the body for any warmth and seems lifeless, moving limply with the creature's sobs.



I move closer now, despite the beast not supplicating. I fall upon it quickly; startled, the creature cries out, throwing it's long legs out and thrashing wildly. To little avail, though...I am heavier than it, and lying upon it's chest, it has little chance of escape. It strikes at my form with it's paws, but with no real threat. It doesn't make use of it's claws, but seems to lunge with the bend in the creature's paw. What's very odd to me, however, is my growing arousal created by this fur-less, pink creature.



It tries to hit at me again, but this time, I catch it's arm at her wrist with my hand. Strange that I did not remember having one, but now I find myself grasping at her other and pinning them over her head against the ground. I am able to keep both her wrists in one of my large hands, and with my free hand, I slap her face sharply, stilling her. I can feel her heat under me as she lies quiet, the only motion caused by the heaving of her chest. I remember she is what is called a "girl", as something stirs in the lower places of my body and mind.



My hand roughly gropes her breasts and trails her stomach, causing her sobs to begin again. When I find her opening, she cries out...this time, I am startled and I nip at her face, catching her along her cheekline. Blood, vibrant and pungent, spills forth from the bite; and now I remember my self. I am the beast. I am the creature in this interaction. These living things that murmur and whisper from outside the cold comfort of my shadows revere me...and this "girl" is their tribute onto me.



I become aware that the thumping of her heart isn't the only sound; just outside the shadows, a small group are drumming rhythmically while chanting. The sound is familiar, but with my attention shared, they are inaudible. I drag my long nails down the girl's torso, rending flesh and causing her to howl in warning. After, I realize the warning came out more than terrifying...the drums fall silent, which is amplifies the solitude of the night.



Being crushed, her breathing is labored and her struggle becomes less about the physical fight, but a pleading in her eyes. What must be words pour over her soft lips, but not in a language I recognize. Perhaps shock has set in, or these are the hushed and fervent prayers of one acutely aware of her own demise. Whether begging or beseeching, her lamentations only serve to stir the beast in my gender and I bury my snout into her crotch to take in her essence.



My tongue lulls out, licking her fluids from my nose. Her taste is intoxicating. I want to tear into this morsel...



...but the drums begin again. I growl, turning my head towards the annoyance. I loosen my grip on her wrists taking up a grip around one of her ankles and begin to drag her behind as I make my way to the noise. It take only a couple strides even with her dead weight, and I peer out of the darkness at the troupe. The flames of their pyre lick at the sky as hungrily as I feel, their shadows cast long as they dance around it.



I do not recognize their clothing, albeit slight and leaving much flesh bare. Set in lighter hues, the staunch white almost glows reflecting the light from the fire. Although their skin tone is fair, most are tanned and healthy looking. The males are stocky, which is only reinforced by short, blocky haircuts...their angular faces emphasized with close-trimmed beards. The females, however, are wispy and seem on average short at only half as tall as the males. Their hair worn unfettered, trail around knees and ankles on most. Against the fire, their golden hair seem ablaze and burning.



I cannot mistake the spears and other tools of the hunt. Blades like waxing moons glimmer dangerously. Oval bucklers covered in the skins salvaged from past kills will hinder me little, but I can sense a champion among them. I cast scrutiny back upon the girl within my grip and study her closely...she is still warm, but battered and unconscious.



With a single leap, we are in the trees. I scramble through the branches, putting some distance between the camp and myself. I need some time to collect my strength and clear my mind, and there is still the matter of my hunger and this morsel I carry like a bloody ragdoll.



Indeed, first I must attend to my sate.



[To be continued...]

COMMENTS

-



neneka
neneka
07:15 Jan 16 2012

Not bad at all.





skullrocker13
skullrocker13
02:00 May 20 2012

interesting








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