The child of Saiiyan ran from him, and he followed at a slow trot, laughing at the inevitability that he should catch her. He lazily traced her every move, and his piercing green eyes swallowed her whole, taking in her every blemish and beauty, every imperfection and every strength. He allowed her the space to feel she could set up camp at nights, but in the unlit hours, he stalked her, his howl echoing across the mountains, he cackled cruelly as she jumped at every snapping twig and grew feverish with terror. He took his time with her, though he wished only to sink his fangs into her soft skin, he held back his lust and allowed his game to play out, and give the child time to grow increasingly paranoid. He loved to watch them go crazy, the horror stories they'd been told about him before they could even catch grasshoppers drilled an instinctive will to get away from him, but they never would, for they were his yearly gift, his annual blood-bath, a shivering teen who was angry and resentful for having been the one to bear his mark, each was his direct descendant, and the idea of killing these ones off was that the mark should disappear from the gene pool, but what the idiots didn't realise was that since they chose the oldest boy to be alpha every time an alpha died they only reinforced the gene, because it was the male wolves who carried it, though they didn't often have it. Therefore the beast should have several more delicious young cubs to devour.

But 't was not so, for Sara was quite the girl to choose her own destiny...

Sara crouched low to the ground, watching the male, he was more than twice her size at fifteen years of age and she felt a small tremble down her spine as he lowered his black nose to the snow-covered ground and inhaled deeply, snorting and snuffling like a mad dog.
"Come on you bastard...come on." She hissed in a barely audible whisper. She knew she needed to do it quickly, for though she had the element of surprise, he had the upper hand in terms of size and strength. She had been changed ever since she had ran away, you couldn't tell her pelt was white for the layers of dirt and blood that caked it, and she had become increasingly skinny, her ribcage jutting out, her parched tongue hanging out of her maw like a red snake. But of course, the biggest changes were psychological, her body had given up on constant fear, and she was beginning to feel an illogical sense of crazy pleasure out of being hunted, an adrenaline boost, a quickening of the pulse.
As she knelt behind a moss-covered log she watched him lift his head and begin to pad toward her, a cruel grin playing on his lips, she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out as his shadow slipped over her body, and just as she felt his hot breath on her neck, he head whipped around and her jaws closed mechanically over his throat, gripping it until his last shuddering breath left him. When she was sure he was dead she fell on top of him and cried into his matted pelt like the pup she was.

Two days later, Sara found herself sniffing around a new land, one she had never seen before, the previous night she had got the first nights sleep she'd had in a long time, and feeling refreshed she decided to find a source of water, but as she came across one she saw a male upstream, talking to himself in a tongue she did not know.
She could only hope he was friendly.
"Hello? Hello, suh?" She called, too nervous to approach him.