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Finally you find yourself before a freshly killed carcas, your arrival causes a flock of muscular vultultures to halt their ravenous consumption of the carcass. They spread their wings in flight, taking to the sky and pulling strings of flesh apart from the body. Some still grip carion covered bones in their sharp talons as they ascent, never taking their watchful eyes off you.
This view almost distracts you completely from the kill in front of you, your grumbling stomach not even parting your eyes from the magnificent display.
“Never thought they were that big.” You say to yourself as you continue to pace towards the body. Your stomach growls with anticipation to tuck into the fresh red meat yourself. The scents surround you as you stand in front of the stiff limbs of a gazelle. Signs of a struggle paint the ground with deep hoof marks, antlers shortened with jagged ends, and deep scratches still gushing vermilion liquid.
You’ve never felt such satisfaction popping your long fangs through the rough hide of the kill, blood wells up from between your teeth, and the scent of it causing your mouth to drain a thick strand of saliva, pouring from your black lioness lips. Your teeth and claws tear thick chunks of muscle from a bone white frame, the red meat tastes metallic as it slides into your maw. The muscular dinner sits heavy in your belly as you gulp down stringy bits of flesh.
It takes you surprisingly long to eat, considering the time it takes to digest the tough chunks with your one-dimensional bite. Your lioness jaw lacks the capability to grind your food, so your hinging jaw preferates the meat as you work your way to pick your kill clean. The feeling of the animal’s thick pelt beneath your claws is amazing, as you consume ravenously, nearly losing yourself in intoxication. You rise, bloodsoaked, your short tan fur tinted vermillion, you lap it up from your lips, your rough feline tongue brushing the fur around your mouth.
You get up, unable to differentiate the scents around you. Your ears swivel as you catch the sound of approaching footsteps from behind. Your muscular neck spins around to meet a dark brown lion, his dark mane tattered, you can tell this lion is way older than you. His skinny frame dances towards you, eyes never parting from yours, his thin spiney whiskers twitch as he catches your scent mixing with the scent of blood.
“Well hello there.” A deep voice resonates from the heaving chest of the lion, his chest expanding and contracting rapidly to match his gentle panting, the sweltering heat can be felt from his pelt, as if he had recently entered these tunnels. Your fur once again begins to stand on end, now feeling more threatened than earlier, your wide iris darts around the lion’s slender frame as he approaches, your fur bristling with anxiety. “Haven’t seen you around.” His low voice growls at you.



Written by Driftingdragon on 03 December 2019


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