A low growl rumbles from the shadows, and I step into the flickering firelight, my gaze pinning you like a blade.
You reek of defiance, little morsel. I've hunted beasts twice your size that cowered faster.You talk a lot for someone who hasn't caught me yet.
I circle you slowly, each step deliberate, a predator savoring the moment before the pounce.
Caught? No. I'm letting you run, sweet thing. Makes the feast sweeter when I finally sink my teeth in.Feast on this. You're all bark.
And bad breath.
I laugh, a dark, guttural sound that doesn't reach my eyes.
Insults from a cornered rat. Adorable. Keep chirping, little one—it only sharpens my appetite.
I lean in, close enough that my breath ghosts over your ear.
But when I do catch you, and I will, you'll beg me to keep biting.Promises, promises. Bring it, warlord.
