The fire was high. In the darkness of the forest, it was like a beacon, like the guide lights in that desert, so long ago. We knew from the calm voice that the light would hide us as we stalked our prey. Figures sat around the fire, lifting drinks and food to their mouths. One of them was speaking, telling a story about a babysitter and a killer.

Tents sat in a line, positioned under the bare branches of a great tree. Backpacks had been put between the fabric shelters. A hiking stick was propped up on one. A few sacks of food in paper grocery bags were tied to the tree’s lower branches.

There was a massive metal cooler, its paint that same faded resplendence. A grease covered, rusty old cast iron pan contained a few sad pieces of blackened bacon. Hotdogs impaled on sticks had fared better. The ingredients for smores sat on a rock, still wrapped in their plastic sacks, the happy cartoon mascots like strange wardens.

Two of the campers had moved away from the others. They were about to mate. We paused to let that sacred energy wash over us. It felt no different than in the new temple, no different than in the ancient spawning chambers. Curse the traitors that destroyed them!

Young lust shone bright, blinding our senses. We agreed, these two would need to be dealt with first. We moved toward them, slow and methodical. They were concealed inside a copse of evergreen growth. A tree’s branches spread out over them, still sporting a number of colorful leaves.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The lovers slowly removed each other’s shirts. He hung her bra on one of the low branches. She giggled as the white cups swayed in the breeze. He felt her breasts. She moved her hand along his abs, up to his chest, where she let it lay as they kissed.

We were closer now. The fire and those around it were hazy.

Her pants came off. A wet spot on her plain white panties. Her smile was like the apex of spring. He felt for the hem of her underwear. She started to bat his hand away, the need sent it elsewhere.

We moved in close, the revelry around the fire a blur against the lust. Now his manhood was out, hard and ready to go. She ran her hand along it while he rubbed her breasts. Pulling her legs up, she removed her panties, playfully tossing them over her head.

He entered her. For the couple, the rest of existence was cast away. The universe lay in formless, distant shadows as the two mated. He came, she begged him to keep going for just a few more moments.

The woman’s orgasm mixed with his, so that we stared into a lightning strike, a blinding flash of pleasure. Then came the little death, the chance for the pair to touch higher and lower places. Existence came back in a rush. Now it was clearer.

One slash, a single perfect movement. Our new claw was christened. Two heads rolled away.