I could feel the wind all around me; I could feel it coursing over my body, hear it whistling in my ears, and taste it by the fresh scent it carried. I could feel the earth beneath my feet and between my nails, and I could sense my companions beside me without even having to look. For a moment, I closed my eyes and just let my instincts carry me in the right direction, my legs a blur as I sped over the land. I loved my life; it was so free and wild, and my mind was usually clear of worry save for the basic thoughts of survival.
The smell of deer was mixed in with the unmistakable scents of my pack and the forest, fear weaving itself into the animal’s identity. The creature we were pursuing had been led away from its herd and was now alone, and although it stood little chance against us it had been putting up quite a fight. Already we’d been running for a good amount of time, and the space was only just starting to close between us and our prey.
We were almost upon it.
As my claws stirred up the dust beneath me, I felt one of my companions lurch forward -- the deer was forced to a rear and it spun around in the opposite direction. Another one of my pack mates cut it off, and in an instant I gathered myself and focused, flexing my muscles as I soared through the air in a few short seconds.
The current tickled my fur and squealed at me, meshing in the next heartbeat of time with the screaming of our prey. Blood gushed into my mouth as my fangs ripped into the doe’s tender neck, tearing at her flesh and severing her veins. She bucked and thrashed around, but we had her and she was soon brought crashing to the ground in a dramatic frenzy.
Her eyes were wide and fearful, sad perhaps, but mine were fogged over with the bloodlust. I could taste her life becoming my own, and it drove me onward blindly. The warmth of that life was completely addicting, intoxicating, and we all tore deeper into her so that we could attain it.
We swallowed her while she screamed; we snapped her bones as her breathing become sparse. Our muzzles became spattered with her and the ground was stained with her, the flowers shuddering as their innocence was marred with blood. Somewhere in the distance, a stag roared out his sorrow for a lost herd member.
And I continued to fill my stomach with the doe’s flesh, pulling on her intestines and puncturing her stomach. Her warmth began to fade as her veins ran dry, but we devoured her until we could not eat any more. She became nothing more than a carcass, but still we dug for her a grave and buried her, intending to come back later to feed ourselves once again.
The doe disappeared under a pile of earth until all that remained of her were a few shreds of bloodied fur and a few bits of flesh and organ upon a splash of stained crimson. My bloodlust was satiated and took its leave, and with thankful eyes I gazed upon the doe’s burial site and sent her soul a silent message of apology and gratitude.
Then, following in the paw prints of my pack mates, I turned and trotted off, the wind cleansing my senses and my carefree mindset returning.