When I pretend I can’t forget about the criminal I am
Stealing second after second just cause I know I can
I am here to hunt for an unsuspecting victim, someone who doesn't know what I am or who I am. On tiop of that I needed to get away from Iromar. I love thiose misted moorlands, I truly do don't get me wrong on that. It's just that I'm getting tired of the taste of gator meat. I'm running with the wind combing my auburn fur back in response to my speed. I was on the hunt. Dark russet fur is ruffled by the wind generated, as the distance lenhgthened between me and Iromar, usually I stayed relatively close to it's borders, because I wasn't given any trouble that way. Today is different, I want trouble today, the mists have npo comfort for me and I long for a hunt. Today I wanted to kill something, watch as they struggled before all life left. I need to taste fresh blood.
My eyes are scanning before in the distance out of my trajectory a large group of wolves appear. The urge to slaughter them all consumes me, and I slow and my green blue eyes stare at the gathering intently. Bloodlust rises and starts to consume my heart. So much blood to drink, so many to maim and torture, but with that many surely they can be safe from me. I have stilled my paws and I just stare. A shiver runs down myu spine as I notice that sometimes wolves break off in pairs continously lessening the overall wolves in the huge group. No there were still too many, unless I could get someone away from the group. It can't be too hard, that's what I think as I continue watching. I lick my lips and change my trajectory. My breathing becomes regulated, I move towards the giant jumble of wolves, they won't know what's hitting them.
I am playing the part of a normal sane wolf, a murderer in civilian's clothing. Within moments I am within the group, ears swiveling and just watching. There are almost too many to keep track of, and yet somehow this doesn't bother me. I wonder how they see me, if they see just another fellow wolf. Do they see me as a stranger with a coat of auburn, with light ghostly eyes with no pupils? Can they see me for what I am, a demon of Iromar? I sit back on my haunches, waiting and watching.
G A A R A
I can’t pretend this is the way it’ll stay I’m just trying to bend the truth