09-08-2021, 09:04 PM
He never goes hungry in a world that offers him bountiful misery to gorge himself on. To hunt, all he ever has to do is shift and run. The scent of something delectable is never very hard to find. In fact, he has been searching and sniffing for all of five minutes before the air near him is tinged with fear. His small clawed paws carry him through the tall meadow grasses until he sees her standing off by herself.
Nazghul slips closer, snapping his jaws at seemingly nothing as he begins to feast on all that fretting and worry just oozing from her. She doesn’t seem to dread as much as the older ones wandering past them, but he doesn’t eat as much as an older bodach, either. Her suffering is just enough to sate his hunger for the time being.
“Why are you so afraid?” he asks, tilting his dark head as he circles her. The cold doesn’t bother him in this form, it seems. The breeze cuts right through this body and he hardly seems to notice that winter is creeping through the world. But he notices the way her body shivers and he remembers the way his own muscles tremble sometimes in the desert night. A kinder boy would perhaps offer some of his own warmth. The thought never crosses his mind.
“My name is Nazghul. What’s yours?”
NazghuL