I peered into the creature’s eyes.

Within shine the Unspoken’s lies.

Evil and rage, it was gifted.

Only in death the curse lifted.

The nature of malices. Orin Esegard

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He rushed through the woods, followed by the few surviving members of his pack.

They had been on the run for half a season, chased from their territory by a great walker of the deep green. The battle to defend their burrow had marked his mind and scared his body. He had fought until the end, only fleeing after the last alpha’s death.

The survivor had named him pack leader. He had guided them to the upper height, where beasts were scarce, but food was limited. They had hunted lower prey and quelled their hunger on repugnant insectoid flesh.

The brood mothers’ strength had started to dwindle. Most of the pack had only bones and skin left. He feared for the survival of his kind and went hunting alone to preserve everyone’s strength. After ending another insectoid vermin, he smelt a fragrance he had long forgotten.

Long ago, when he was weak and pack-less, he had survived by picking from other’s carrion. One day, he found the half-eaten corpse of a young female unlike any beast he had ever seen. She only had blood fur on the top of her head, and her front limbs were small and puny.

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The fragrance rising from her body was maddening, and he had thrown himself and feasted until the last drop of dry blood was licked from the ground. Even if the organs were gone, the remaining carmine pulp had made him renew, brought him strength and power.

A part of him had hungered for more since that day, but he had never seen any other, not until that day.

Forgetting both his prey and instinct, he rushed forward. He found the source of the maddening aroma near the water. Stalking slowly his game, he crossed a mantle of bushes, hoping for the corpse to be fresh. It came face to face with two green eyes and understood the Unspoken had blessed him this day.

It was still alive, and there were two of them.

He barely had the time to let out a pleased laugh that the biped had fled. He could have given chase but decided to call the pack first. Once they arrived, he started following the trail left by the primate.

It only took him a few minutes to find their nest—a clearing in the forest near the cursed crystals. The Unspoken wanted him away from them, but the hunger was too intense. He entered the gale, followed by his hunters, to find a full pack!

The scent of fear saturated the air. It was like a cloud of alcohol filling their lung, both intoxicating and succulent. Only a prey beast would have produced such a scent. His pack were the hunter.

He walked forward, looking for its mark, when a large biped advanced. That last barked, and the others started to form a semi-circle with their female in the centre. They probably hopped to defend them. But in the mind of the pack leader, the carnage was like spring following winter, inevitable.

How clever of him to follow the biped instead of feasting on the spot. They had brought him to many more of her succulent kindred.

His human eyes shifted to the girl he had seen near the spring. Even among her kindred, she was the most appetising. Saliva drooled on the rocky soil. She was his prey. He would be the one to tear her throat out and feast on her heat.

He would also claim a few females’ bodies and consume their tender flesh and organs while the rest of the pack grew strength from the males. He would soon be the mightiest kin in the woods and reclaim their stolen territories.

He laughed with cruelty.

It was his destiny.