Hunting Is My Game

Thankfully, the small form reappears from among the chaos of hooves and he dips his head sharply as she races up the pronghorn’s right side. Head snaps forward, spine aligning as he gallops hard, nostrils flaring with each deep breath and he nears the front left shoulder. They work together, as if they have practiced this a hundred times. The tiny woman trips the pronghorn and it bellows in fear as Ezekiel leaps forward, jaws parted wide, saliva flying through the air as he reaches for and latches onto the doomed creature’s throat.

Tail snaps up over his spine as he pins the beast shoulder and tosses his head back, ripping the throat from the animal without a moment wasted. Hot blood arches through the air, pooling around the gaping hole in its neck, staining and slowly melting the snow under the onslaught of hot liquid. Blood stains his mouth as he grins devilishly, leering into the dying animal’s eye so that its last worldly view is of the beast that killed it.


"Speech!"