—Temporary POV Shift—

The midnight sand sears my fur, still hot from the desert sun. But I move with purpose, each step silent on the shifting dunes. My hunger drives me, a constant gnawing in my belly. I catch the scent of a desert hare, complete with two pronged horns, a male. My ears twitch, honing in on the faint rustle of movement.

I lower myself, muscles coiled, creeping closer. The hare is oblivious, unaware that he has been scented. No doubt he thinks the rocky outcropping shields him just as well as it shields the grass from the desert sun. But that folly is why he is the prey, and I am the hunter. Creeping closer I prepare my spell. Two more strides and my paws are on rocky terrain.

The hare is dead.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

I peek around the corner and the hare freezes, seeing my tawney eyes an instant too late. My third eye is already open, a paralyzing beam strikes the hare, freezing it in place. A stasis for the simple minded. Carefully I creep closer, my long neck flexing and straining to maintain my third eye’s relative position. If I look away, the spell will fail. But the hare never moves, it’s simple mind unable to break the paralysis. To think of something other than itself.

For a moment I pause, allowing the hare to relax. I savor the moment, then leap, claws and teeth sinking into flesh. Deliciously warm blood fills my mouth as the hare dies, my teeth bleeding the creature’s throat in seconds. Thank you for your contribution. I think, grateful that today’s dinner was so easy, yet I feel unfulfilled. Bored; I yearn for a chase, or the excitement that comes with the risk of failure. For more intelligent prey. There is no joy in this kill, only the satisfaction of survival. I devour the meal, lapping up the fallen blood to slake my thirst.

Darkness consumes the sky, as one of the rock-clouds blots out the stars. I move within its shadow, enjoying the coolness it brings. Shadows mean shelter from the sun, and shelter means prey. Soon, a few hours and the sun will begin its ascent. I have time to hunt while the humans sleep. So I slip into town, silently padding between walled buildings. My movements are fluid and stealthy. The town’s outskirts come into view, and I slip through narrow alleys, past sandstone buildings adorned with vibrant fabrics. The air is rich with the scent of spices and roasted meats, mingling with the distant murmur of armored guards.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

But I am not the only hunter. Another has already struck, and the scent of fresh blood, human blood, permeates the air. I’m not human, but something that kills the two legs will certainly slay me. I must be careful to avoid hunters.

To avoid adults.

My third eye is shut tight to prevent the blue glow from leaking out. Not that I need it to hunt. For I can see in the dark just as easily as the day. I scan the surroundings, seeking my next prey. I move through the shadows, searching for the young and vulnerable. A soft mewing catches my attention, and I follow the sound to a small courtyard. There, a litter of kittens plays, oblivious to the predator lurking in the darkness. Easy prey.

Too easy.

You get to live tonight cousins, thank Taloc for my earlier hare. I’m not in need of your blood to survive… Though an exception would be made for a tasty litter of puppies.

I slink deeper into the human caves, passing a pen of exposed ones. Chained and isolated, they are large enough to present a challenge, yet feeble enough for my claws to find their throats. Felinids, distant cousins, weak, vulnerable. I spot a halfling, one of the kittens, half the size of the others. An immature female. Her aura brims with power, magic, devouring her would empower myself. My paws ascend the adobe wall, leaving inch deep holes in the hardened clay as I surmount the human’s manufactured caves, then a second scent halts my ingress.

Wolves.

Panic. I freeze.

The scent is weak, but persistent. It is not an idle waft, but the presence of a dog. No, not a dog, a werewolf. He lingers amidst the catpeople, like a sheepdog hidden within the flock. Clever, and too much for me. I seek a challenge, not certain death.

I leave, slipping through town with ease until I reach a place where the homes are separated, not mashed together, with a telling lack of guards to protect their darkened hallows.

Abandoned.

I turn to leave this part of town, already giving up hope on finding prey here. Suddenly, a pebble falls from the sky, making a soft clatter. My ears perk up, and I turn my gaze toward the source. Creeping closer, I peek into a shuttered window, my eyes narrowing at the sight within. A six-month-old baby lies peacefully in a dirty blanket, silent, soft, and practically glowing with mana. My third eye opens, recharged by the radiant power of the being before me. Taloc guides my paws, the lithe limb easily reaching through the shudders and unlatching them. The window opens.

My stomach growls again, but for a moment, I remain still, contemplating my next move in the quiet depths of the night.

The baby awakens, turning with unusual dexterity towards me. It’s eyes lock onto my third orb and I feel the spell activate.

I have him trapped.