Content Warning: CNC play; Edge Play; Fear Play
I see you in the firelight. Pale face reflecting the orange and red hues of the flickering flame. Eyes focused on the fire, you cannot see the shadow standing a few yards away, drinking in the view.
My eyes travel down your lithe form as a cat does a mouse before pouncing. Reflexively my hands clench, eager for the victory, longing to wrap those fingers around the delicate flesh of your throat. To feel your flesh under my claws and teeth. To relish the taste of terror on your skin as I sink my hard flesh into yours.
Yet the time is not right. Not now. I fade out of view, just another set of eyes in the smoke. Watching. Waiting. Your scent wafts my way. My eyes close as I sample your unique bouquet, my face cracking into a feral snarl.
The lust runs deep tonight.
For how long I watch I cannot say. The hunter is a patient creature, knowing that prize that awaits at the end of the hunt. An hour? Perhaps. Two ? Maybe. Time is meaningless in this game. All that matters is the victory at the end.
At last the fires dies down low and the coals glow brightly in the dark night. You arise, intent on seeking shelter for the night, unknowing of what horror lies ahead of you. I rise from my sitting position, limb stretching out in eagerness.
My shadow detaches from the tree, slinking silently across the leaf strewn ground as quietly as a silent film. Closer I stalk, anticipating your path. The snarl on my face becomes a silent growl of expectation as you approach. I let you pass within feet of me, anticipating the look of recognition on your face. Yet the hunter is too well concealed.
I reach out as you pass, dark arms in the gloom. One hand entwines in your hair, jerking your head back so fast your neck cracks. The other wraps around your neck, hand clamping down over your mouth to stifle the coming scream of surprise. I pull you into my embrace, sniffing longingly at your hair, your scent. Capturing it for later analysis in the confines of my brain.
My hot breath travels across your skin, eliciting a most delicate shudder. I pause, close enough to bite your earlobe, the air escaping from my open mouth passing across your ear. You shake as I elicit the whisper of a single word.
Run.
With that, I shove you violently forward into the blackness beyond the firelight. You fall, as I expected, and I yank you back up by the hair.
Run, child, run.
I hurl you back into the night. I call after you in mocking laughter.
Flee Child. For you are hunted by the animal that walks the night. The beast of shadows and smoke. Silent death in the darkness.
And you dash off, the hunter in swift, silent pursuit.
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