All semblance of Russel was buried under the immense weight of the wolf’s mind. It overpowered him and the sense of being pushed underwater intensified. The werewolf only wanted to hunt now. To kill. It needed to find prey and chase it down. It needed to feel its claws strip flesh, to guzzle blood, and feel chunks of meat slide past its throat. It didn’t have a need to satiate a specific hunger. It had a need to end life and it was not picky on the particulars. Animal, monster, or human. It made little difference.

Now it was on the trail of its latest prey. He could track the scent easily. It was definitely human but faintly floral as well. There was something underneath it he could smell. Russel’s mind, however, was too far gone to pinpoint that underlying scent and the werewolf didn’t care to know. All it cared about was catching up to the human.

It went slowly at first, taking its time. The scent was so strong, he could almost see it. The world was now monochromatic and in shades of amber colors, like the world had been doused in sepia tone. All around, the wildlife sensed the presence of something incredibly large, strong, and powerful and silenced themselves so they were not found and killed.

Saliva and drool filled his mouth at the prospect of another kill.

The werewolf’s patience evaporated suddenly and its slow stalking switched to a four-limbed jog that then changed to a trot and finally a full-out run. He completely ignored the rocky landscape. Bits of jagged rock and pebbles bit into the flesh of his paws but they were insignificant. They hurt for a fraction of a second and then healed over. The same could be said of the branches that slapped into his face as he ran. Most of them didn’t even register in his consciousness and if they did, it was only for him to swipe savagely at and rip completely off the tree it belonged to.

In short, there was nothing in the wolf’s way that could stop it. The only thing that possibly could have stood a chance against him was another werewolf and there were none around except for himself.

Overhead, the moon hung in the sky. Its beautiful, silvery glow would be the only witness to his latest death. In his animalistic, hazed over mindscape, the feeling of satisfaction he got at knowing that still got through to him. The human would make a fitting tribute to the Maker.

This pleased him so much that he went even faster, the scent trail getting stronger and stronger as he did which meant only one thing.

He was almost there. Almost caught up to the human.

****

Lola could feel a presence, one full of such bloodlust it felt like a fog rolling through the air. She knew instantly what it meant.

Or rather…who.

It was Russel but again, not Russel. It was his wolf. Manifested and made real. Judging by the sheer amount of murderous intent she could feel on the back of her neck, he was also ready to absolutely rip her to shreds. She didn’t want to be killed that way. In fact, she realized as she kept running despite how badly fatigued she was, that was rapidly becoming a legitimate phobia of hers.

Vorarephobia. The fear of being eaten alive or swallowed.

Somewhere along the way she had acquired that term, like collecting a trinket or rare item from a bazaar. Out of all the words to remember, it was ironic that that would be one of them. She was, after all, just minutes away from being eaten and swallowed alive herself.

I’m not getting away from him. I know it. He is getting closer and closer and as soon as he gets close enough, that’s it. At least I’ll get to see my parents soon. And my friends. All the people that I loved back home.

In her final seconds, those were the thoughts percolating through her brain. Each one was like water dripping off a stalactite into her pool of consciousness.

Thoughts of her loved ones, her mom and dad especially, were some of the more prevalent thoughts inside her head but there were others. They were just as strong. Just as potent as those other thoughts. But these new ones were all centered around Russel.

I hope he doesn’t kill himself with grief over what he’s done. I hope he can move on with his life. I hope he realizes my death was not his fault.