I run. The hounds are coming. I can hear them. Hunting. Their feet churn the ground. Nostrils flared to catch my scent. Baying, they come. Snarling, gnashing and blood thirsty, they come.
I flee. And yet they come. I’ve done no wrong. Panic. Why do they chase when all I want is to flee. I’ve done no wrong. Taken no babes. Tasted no blood and yet they come. They have no cause. They have their hate.
I hide. Burying myself underground. I smell the earth. Heady. It smothers me. Damp and oppressive. It shields me from them. Heavy, it envelops me. Gritty, pungent and elemental, it envelops me.
They hunt. I hear them now. Men on horses. Shouting. Their weapons sharp and ready. Ready to strike me dead. Stopped above me. Confused, focused and looking to the hounds for help, and still they come. They know to dig.
They find me. They pull me up. Hold me down. Celebrating. The hounds rip and tear at my flesh. They laugh. I scream. Weapons unsheathed. They look to one another for support. They find me; Weak.
I fight. Roar in primal rage. The price they pay for their hate. Destroyer! I rip the hounds apart. Clawing, I smell the blood. They know not what they have done. I care not what I’ve become. Continued existence my only thought. The men scream. They fall one by one by my feat. I feel their blood flow around my teeth. It’s done.
I run. Run in the night. I run for my life; run for theirs.