Now my horrors have become quite real

The Forest again? He’s become so predictable. Or was it that Beqanna was getting too small? He can never tell these days. Either way he’s here and there’s no changing that, so he might as well make the most of it. From the canopy where he rests he peers down, round eyes darting to the ground coverage below in search of a late afternoon meal. It would be easier, he reasons, to do the business as a bird. Swooping from behind at breakneck speed was a surefire way to catch something without expending a great deal of energy. However, he’s already decided to make the most of this social outing so he intends to do things the way he likes them done. Slowly, carefully, painfully precise. So, the shape of a leopard will do for now. 

The spotted cat rolls easily enough off his perch, dropping head-first to land in a silent crouch, tail sweeping over the low-lying foliage that litters the woodland floor. Curved ears twitch, focusing in on individual noises here and there while the large feline waits in motionless patience. It had taken time to master the ability to become so focused on a singular goal, but Wyrm found that once he’d unlocked the puzzle of it, suddenly everything else in his world had become crystal clear too. In his youth, he’d been rash; boasting about his abilities. Now? Now he preferred to perfect them, realizing that so much more could be accomplished by saying less and showing more.

To his right the scuffle of furred feet snap his head around, body lowering while his tail stills. In a breathless moment, he is like marble and the world around him disappears. He exhales and in the same breath leaps, soaring over a low hedge to ensnare an unsuspecting rabbit. The creature squirms uselessly and with a smile Wyrm pins the poor thing, thumping solidly down on his belly to enjoy his success. The animal quivers, wide eyes nearly black in fear as the jaguar flips it on it’s back, exposing the soft underside. Wyrm lowers his massive head, inhaling the fur and closing his eyes with the intoxicating smell of fear. There was nothing in this whole, strange world that ever came close to that particular smell.

He extends a single claw, ripping the tender stomach open to watch the innards spill over in glistening release. The rabbit screams and Wyrm only shakes his head, trying ironically to shush the terrified creature. It was never fun if they died quickly, before he could catch the last breath or feel a final shudder, but this one struggles to hold on for a while, painful squeals pealing out into the now quiet maze of trees. With a chuckle Wyrm clicks his tongue, “No bunny friends here to save you.” And then his paw descends over the narrow little face, muffling out those sad, quivering notes, pushing incrementally until at last he hears the click of bone snapping and the screams cut short.

With a pleased sigh the leopard rises once more, shaking loose the thick skin over his shoulders before stretching out his back lazily. He glances sidelong at the flattened, split rabbit and flicks his tail nonchalantly before padding over it, leaving the body behind to let other creatures finish the business. 

Guess he hadn’t been hungry to begin with.

My nightmares breathe new life

W Y R M

Now my horrors have become quite real

It’s the first time he’s had an audience. As his rounded head slowly turns to take in the sight of her, his body also curves as well, tail arcing through the air like a whip in mid-strike. He lifts a single leg, extending the paw to unsheath his curved nails before batting the dead creature further away. So she wasn’t a fan, then? Such a shame … Wyrm preferred the company of like-minded horses. But then again, it could be equally amusing to bat around this one for a while. Pick her brain.

Maybe literally.

He sighs, deciding rather suddenly that she wasn’t worth the extended effort. “Tell me something; do you often find yourself in precarious situations because of that gaping hole underneath your nose?” He rumbles, striding forward with deliberate ease. By hole he means mouth, of course, and he’s staring intently at hers as she draws it into a solid line. With each carefully placed step the jaguar grows bigger, the back rounding like a sabertooth’s while his incisors thicken until they jut from his lips to become fully exposed. Horns sprout from his thick forehead - a pair of them, growing quickly to curl over his ears like a ram. No longer is he an ordinary creature, but something akin to a monster.

“Because I can tell you right now - this is one of those situations.” He finishes, stopping near to her so that he might sense her quickening pulse. His massive head tilts, one spotted brow rising as he sums her up. She’s intriguing in her boldness and he likes that her eyes reflect hate. Something about the way that she’s ready to attack him causes a smile to ghost over his lips, he almost wishes she would. He wonders how fast she can run.

“What do they call you?” He questions, sitting rather abruptly before drawing up to wait patiently for her reply.

My nightmares breathe new life

W Y R M

Now my horrors have become quite real

So then the fear reflected in her slitted eyes, the soft stillness of her body as her muscles clenched in fight-or-flight instinct, the very deliberate step backwards - these were not signs of distress? He, himself, was not causing her any sort of discomfort? Well .. he would’ve never guessed it. His senses could be off, he ponders. Perhaps he’s just not on top of his game these days. We can’t all be the best and so on. Or maybe, (and this is purely an assumption on his part, mostly theory really) maybe this Willa was just a terrible, pathetic liar.

That’s certainly a more believable excuse than the tilt of her chin upwards as she tries so very, very hard to make herself seem equally as foreboding. Wyrm’s seen the trick a few times in the wild and he knows a defense mechanism well when he sees one. Ah, but Willa would be a tough bone to chew, he thinks, and she’s much more amusing to him alive anyways. The horned cat chuckles, head shaking side-to-side in mild hilarity as his shoulders roll with the bass of his laughter. “You flatter me, really.” He replies, tail flicking over the ground with delight. He blinks slowly, body re-shaping until he’s equine again and staring at her through his birth-given brown eyes. He decides on a coat of midnight blue, white flecks like stars scattered haphazardly into his mane and tail and across his spine.

“They call me Wyrm, and you can too.” He tells her, mouth quirking into a half-smile. “I assume you often run into large, beastly things on your walks or your balls wouldn’t be as big as mine.” He reasons, easing into a relaxed stance now that the tension had somewhat gone. Even after all this time the other Beqannians still surprised him now and then. Horses like Willa made life simply fascinating.

My nightmares breathe new life

W Y R M