Re: Recessed nook up the Grand Staircase
The Wolf felt no satiation when the thing went limp. He felt no pleasure when the life seeped out of it. The gnawing in his belly remained, because this was no pleasure kill. Survival, that was something this creature knew. Getting up each day, making it through the next, doing what he must; he knew these things. They brought no quenching, no pleasure, and he snarled angrily as he pushed off the thing on the floor, watching as the body slammed against the rear of the alcove like nothing but a meatsack. He didn't like that either, this thing the Wolf was, and a mournful howl escaped him as he turned his head up to the empty black of the alcove's roof.
The hunger was stronger now, fueled on by the reality of what he left behind in that darkened nook. He backed up on strong hind legs, and he fled, leaving the thing to rot and haunt, as things did.