Come Play

He was drawing closer and closer in the direction of the Syndicate, his goal not fully solidified in his head—which may have been for the better. It was a rather reckless one, after all. Driven by impulse. A half-formed thought in the back of his mind, his body moving forward regardless of consequence.

Yet for a moment, he thought he smelled that woman on the wind, but perhaps it was merely a trick of the mind. An irritating sensation, just like that loss had been.

Still, something unsettled him more than the thought of never having a rematch. Call it instinct, or his inherent paranoia. A hunter's sixth sense that was proven correct as he spotted something. Redrum froze mid-step, his long ears flicking sharply toward the faint disturbance before him. Paw prints—soft, light, but there all the same. Small. A child’s gait. His skull dropped, dipping low between his shoulders; hovering just above the indentations on the ground.

His golden eyes narrowed as his nostrils flared, drawing in a slow, deep breath. A faint trace of familiar scent, diminishingly quickly. Nothing else on the wind, but the silence wasn’t as tranquil as it had been moments before. A new presence, something, someone, had entered his space.

He turned his head slightly, his jaw twitching uncontrollably as he glanced around. Was there a little predator seeking to make him their prey? His lips quivered with a smile. His muscles bunched as he lowered his blood-red frame, shifting his weight slowly and letting his toes splay in the snow. Slowly, but like a stone thrown in a lake, his weight shifted forward before exploding into movement.

He shot off, the heavy crunch of snow beneath his paws audible as he pursued the trail. He followed it with the intensity of a bloodhound, his focus singular. Whoever left those tracks wouldn’t stay ahead of him for long.

"Murder"