Come Play

Redrum had been a streak of crimson, a bullet flying through the undergrowth, relentless in his pursuit. The little predator's laugh had rung out like a dare, feeding the fire in his golden eyes as he finally set sights on her. A child, just as he’d thought. She looked like an ember dying out on a log. Or maybe kindling coming to life. Her darting, weaving movements were a game—a chaotic dance, one that made his lips twist into a quivering, unsettling grin.

He wanted to catch her.

She dove toward the roots of a fallen tree, her frantic digging to no avail, no escape—this is when Redrum slowed. His paws steady as he crouched, his long ears flicking forward to catch the sounds of her scrabbling within the roots. His breathing was controlled, though his muscles quivered with anticipation. He leaned forward, watching as she spun to face him, her teeth bared and a snarl tearing through the confined between them.

Redrum tilted his head. His golden eyes gleamed, unblinking, as they locked onto hers. The intensity of his gaze was sharp enough to stab right through her. He didn’t move, he simply watched, blocking her exit. Seconds tick, tick, ticked by.

Then, his lips pulled back—not in aggression, but in a wide, unnerving smile that exposed the sharp glint of his teeth. "Cornered, Little Kindling." he rasped, voice uneven, each letter dragged out. "No more—running."

He tilted his head the other way, his gaze narrowing as he slowly lowered himself, his frame ready to spring. There was no immediate lunge, no mindless aggression—only a lingering pause, as though he was savoring this moment, the shift in their dynamic. No longer the ghost haunting him in the forest. He was the predator. She was the prey.

"Does she—fight, or—will she… freeze?" His voice dipped lower, a growl forming along the edges of his voice. He was curious. Curious to see if this child of red and fire could be similar to him, even if he did not know their blood relation. The concept that he might scare the young girl did not cross his mind, there were no tears, no crying out—this was a game.



"Murder"