Mylena was losing herself again.

Her head spun. No clear thoughts could coalesce in her mind; they were fogged and marred and grossly distorted by the influence of the Voices. She couldn’t even hear the sweet little whines she loved oh, so much anymore. Her heartbeat pounded like a bass drum in her chest. Mylena’s ears drew back, her maw contorted in such a way to expose all her glistening teeth, her eyes glowed with ferocity.

That is good, Mylena. He will thank you for the great service you will do him. Do not lose focus on your task, Mylena… Eat him.

Mylena’s breath was labored, almost as if it took every ounce of focus in her to not devour the brave soldier she had captured. It would not do to eat this one just yet. It simply would not do…

He was different from the rest, the first one in a very long time to try and put up a fight. For what it was worth, he was awfully adorable with that big, gangly rifle in his hands and the pot-like helmet that hung clumsily from his head. His uniform was obviously several sizes too large. Yet, his face said it all. He was ready for the fight, he would die for his Kaiser, for his God, for his Fatherland.

He was special . He was brave . One in a million.

“I-I’ll kill y-you, you monster !” Heinrich stammered.

He scrambled fiendishly at the ground with his hands and feet, trying desperately to gain some form of leverage to try and make a move. He knew he couldn’t, but the primal will to survive took him over. He screamed, but was quickly silenced by a great pain on his shoulder.

Mylena had sunk her fangs deep into his flesh, creating a deep red gash that spewed precious, warm blood.

That will not be the only wound you sustain today if you continue speaking in such a rash manner toward me. There is no “killing” me, boy .

She snarled again.

Where are you from? Why are you all here, fighting over mere scraps? Mylena tilted her head.

Heinrich was hesitant to say anything further. He still couldn’t quite believe his current situation, and a part of him felt as if it was a dream. The throbbing pain reminded him otherwise.

Mylena shook him, jangling the buckles and hooks that hung from her overcoat. Her nostrils flared with every breath, but her eyes no longer contained that fierce, fiery orange glow. The Voices inside her had subsided; their chanting reduced to mere background noise, overshadowed by the soft prattle of machine guns in the far distance and the deep thwoomp of artillery hitting the ground and exploding. She now could operate under her own influence, as it were, and she would take advantage of this momentary recollection of control.

Do you know that I have eaten hundreds of your fellow soldiers during the past month alone? You could very easily make one further addition to that list… She drooled.

But… I won’t devour you. Not yet. You are of use to me.

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Mylena’s stress on the word “use” sparked terror in Heinrich’s heart. As he sat there in the dark, muddy shellhole with no visibility or sound, he wondered what could befall him, how he might be handled by this beast. He had a feeling of impending doom, and he knew he had to act fast if he was to have any chance of survival. He felt a chill run down his spine as he realized that his life was in Mylena’s hands. He had to do something to protect himself.

Steeling his nerves for what undoubtedly could mean a gruesome end to his life, Heinrich quickly unclasped his ditch dagger from a small, nearly unnoticeable pouch on his thigh and jabbed it into Mylena’s side. Its blade was trapped between her ribs, and as it sank into her flesh, her body shuddered and went still. Her breath slowed to a lethargic, almost intoxicated pant, like a dog infected with rabies. Heinrich felt a wave of relief wash over him as the weight of the situation was lifted from his shoulders. He had done the only thing he could, and it had worked. He dragged himself back, out and under, still holding the dagger, and watched as Mylena slowly sank to the ground.

For the first time in her memory, Mylena had been caught by surprise by the ingenuity of someone she had rendered so helpless. She was bleeding badly. It would not be very long before she was dead, and she knew this well . Mylena dragged herself to a position halfway between standing and sitting, crouching on her knee and propping herself up with a hand. Her free hand clutched the wound at her side; with every breath, fresh new blood poured from the jagged hole. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying her best to block out the pain.

The Voices were back, chiding her for her idiocy. They chanted their dirges but Mylena could barely hear them. She was fading.

You should have listened to us, Mylena. He would have made an excellent meal. Now you will die, and he will go on to tell the world about how he conquered the unconquerable. Do you want that, Mylena?

She growled, tensing up her maw, exposing her bloody teeth.

I do not want to die...

With a limp, she edged toward Heinrich. Once vibrant and expressive, the fox's tail now drooped, dragging like dead flesh.

Bleeding badly, Mylena lunged at Heinrich, striking him twice with her claws: once across the face and once across the stomach. His uniform fell to tatters and he cried out in pain, screeching the only expletive words his over-protective mother would have let him hear. It was then that spotlights flooded the scene of carnage, casting a great white light upon everything within range. It was as if Mylena and Heinrich were black cutouts against a white sheet of paper. Shouting voices erupted from the nearby trenches and with them, a hail of machine-gun fire.

Nine millimeter rounds zipped through the smoky air, arcing from their origins at the lip of the nearest trench to their final destinations. They struck the ground, spitting globs of earth into the air all around the two figures cast in black. One of the machine gunners had true aim, as a quick series of shots riddled across the fallen fox's body—two of them embedding themselves into her skull. She went limp; her grasp on the boy died out completely. It was now that Heinrich took his chance to escape. Running into the volley of white-hot machine gun fire, he threw up his hands, desperately screaming: "Bitte, bitte! Ich bin Deutsch!"

But it was to no avail. Not a soul could hear his voice over the violent barking of the guns, nor could they hear the bloodcurdling shriek he let out as bullets struck his body. Heinrich fell, and the volley came to a whimpering end.

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Days would go by, and the trenches of war would remain none the wiser as to the threat they'd just narrowly escaped. Of course, when they found the boy he was mere inches from death, but through his unintelligible mumblings, they could discern one word: "biest". A monster. A vile beast of some sort. The field physicians simply brushed these remarks off, seeing them as the product of brain damage or shell shock. Heinrich was just short of a lost cause. To be patched up and shipped home where he could live or die in peace.

The beast however, she would forever find herself stuck on the battlefield. The guns would eventually go silent, the trenches would erode into nothingness, but the bones, they were still there. The bones of a creature that had seen eons of bloodshed yet had bat an eye at none of it. A creature that challenged the might of modernity, the power of steam and steel, and lost. The soul of the greatest huntress the world had ever created, tormented by her own insatiable instincts.

The End.