With every ambling step, the komodo dragon’s head weaved back and forth, forked yellow tongue flicking out to taste the air. He’d been tracking the strange beast for days, since it had escaped his clutches - but not before he’d gotten in one good bite to the chest. Such delicious relief had scented the air as it broke free and ran, and he had watched, mouth open in a wicked grin dripping with its blood as it scurried away.
They tasted so much better when they thought they were safe.
Days passed, and he followed behind, slow and steady, tasting its growing concern in the scent trail it left behind. The bleeding wouldn’t let up, wouldn’t clot like a normal wound, and panic rose and crested and broke as the strange four-legged beast weakened. And today? Today he could taste resignation and exhaustion and defeat. He’d given slow, inexorable chase, tracking the beast and letting it catch glimpses of him anytime it got too complacent.
If prey-beasts dreamed, perhaps he was the monster in their nightmares, a gaping grin dripping venom and his own glorious brand of meat tenderizer, saliva heavy-laden with bacteria that sank into their flesh with one bite, stewing inside them for days, turning the into the most delicious meals if he could just be patient enough.
And oh, but he was patient.
It was already down when he finally let himself catch up, wide eyes dull as it stared at its end approaching on four clawed feet. Its chest heaved in erratic rhythm, fighting for breath, and still he took his sweet time, savoring the scent of impending death. It was far too large a meal for him alone, though that had never stopped him trying; he could devour nearly his full body weight in a single sitting, and this was a brand new delicacy, a species he’d never sampled before. How delightful. His tongue flicked out to draw in the scent of its breath as it panicked and flailed, struggling to rise on solid hooves, flicked out juuuust far enough to taunt it with a swift little lick of the soft skin at the end of its muzzle.
Hello, precioussss. What a pleasure to meet you.
His mouth gaped open and he struck, the sweet taste of blood flooding his mouth, adrenaline spiking as the beast fought one last time to save a life that was already lost, forfeit to his venom and the infection that spread through its veins. Nnnh, but he loved the fight, pupils dilating, head lashing as he tore at the still-breathing carcass, serrated teeth slicing through flesh and ripping a chunk of meat free for him to snap up and swallow down, utterly delicious.
Another bite while its dying screams rent the air, setting his blood to humming in his veins, buzzing with life, with the frenzy of the feed. It flailed and thrashed as he tore free another chunk of the lovely flesh of its chest, dodging blows from wildly-striking hooves as it struggled to rise, to flee, to live.
Mmmm, but it struggled in vain.
He ate his fill, gorging on hide and meat and bone and organ alike. The carcass went still long before he was satisfied of course, as they always did, but the meal was sweet and tender, savory and delightful, and he enjoyed every morsel until he couldn’t stuff another bite down his throat. With a sated groan, he dragged his body toward a nice, sunny rock to bask and digest and revel in the fullness of his belly and the afterglow of a successful hunt.
He slept, the heat of the sun and his distended belly making him hummm with lazy contentment. But as he slept, he changed. Magic of a sort woke in his veins for the first time in his life, burning through him and twisting his body until it became like that of his prey. Bony scales became supple hide, copper and white fur spreading across his new skin. Long hair sprouted from his tail and the back of his neck, and spilled over down the front of his face as ears grew, as bones warped and muscles stretched and pulled and toes fused into hooves, so that when he woke, he was the shape of the unfamiliar beast. The horse, the first one he’d seen, the first one he’d touched, the first one he’d devoured. Its blood sang to his, called out a shape he’d never known was his.
Hot blood, wide prey eyes, and the world around him exploded into color and definition beyond anything he’d seen before. What? He jerked to his feet, startled at the new shape of his limbs, the strange redistribution of weight, finding a new center of gravity. He snorted, tossing his head nervously, feeling the flutter of a mane against his neck. What the hell? Perhaps it was a dream. He’d never dreamed of being a prey-beast before, but he’d indulged in a tiny flight of fancy about prey beasts and their dreams, so. Maybe he was due. Sure.
Might as well explore what it was like in this strange new shape. So he ran, reaching speeds he’d never dreamed possible. He leapt and kicked and whirled, bucked and jumped and learned the way this body moved, learned its senses, learned its rhythm. And when the scent of others of his species teased the air for the first time in his life, he gave into his new shape’s pull to seek them out. Slipping into the water, he left his island home and swam for the distant mainland.
It took longer in this shape, limbs less suited to gliding through the water, tail no longer built for powering him forward, body no longer slinking and sinuous in the waves. Still, he made it to land, scrambling onto the sandy shore and shaking himself as dry as he could manage, water still clinging to the ridiculous long hairs that tumbled from his neck and his tail. So damn bizarre. His chest heaved, sucking in air after the long exertion, and he stomped his hooves, trying to shake off the clammy wet feeling of fur stubbornly holding onto ocean water.
Now. Where the hell was he? A sandy beach, lush greenery leading up to a mountain that smoked with warning. Steam rose from inland freshwater, shrouding the land partway up the volcano with a thick veil of moisture. Mmmm, warm and lovely, a bit warmer than his island had been, and he could smell abundant prey of a wide variety of species. Oh this would do nicely. And the new shape was happy too, the scent of his kind thick and heady in the air. With one last shake, he set out to explore this delightfully strange, luscious territory.
They tasted so much better when they thought they were safe.
Days passed, and he followed behind, slow and steady, tasting its growing concern in the scent trail it left behind. The bleeding wouldn’t let up, wouldn’t clot like a normal wound, and panic rose and crested and broke as the strange four-legged beast weakened. And today? Today he could taste resignation and exhaustion and defeat. He’d given slow, inexorable chase, tracking the beast and letting it catch glimpses of him anytime it got too complacent.
If prey-beasts dreamed, perhaps he was the monster in their nightmares, a gaping grin dripping venom and his own glorious brand of meat tenderizer, saliva heavy-laden with bacteria that sank into their flesh with one bite, stewing inside them for days, turning the into the most delicious meals if he could just be patient enough.
And oh, but he was patient.
It was already down when he finally let himself catch up, wide eyes dull as it stared at its end approaching on four clawed feet. Its chest heaved in erratic rhythm, fighting for breath, and still he took his sweet time, savoring the scent of impending death. It was far too large a meal for him alone, though that had never stopped him trying; he could devour nearly his full body weight in a single sitting, and this was a brand new delicacy, a species he’d never sampled before. How delightful. His tongue flicked out to draw in the scent of its breath as it panicked and flailed, struggling to rise on solid hooves, flicked out juuuust far enough to taunt it with a swift little lick of the soft skin at the end of its muzzle.
Hello, precioussss. What a pleasure to meet you.
His mouth gaped open and he struck, the sweet taste of blood flooding his mouth, adrenaline spiking as the beast fought one last time to save a life that was already lost, forfeit to his venom and the infection that spread through its veins. Nnnh, but he loved the fight, pupils dilating, head lashing as he tore at the still-breathing carcass, serrated teeth slicing through flesh and ripping a chunk of meat free for him to snap up and swallow down, utterly delicious.
Another bite while its dying screams rent the air, setting his blood to humming in his veins, buzzing with life, with the frenzy of the feed. It flailed and thrashed as he tore free another chunk of the lovely flesh of its chest, dodging blows from wildly-striking hooves as it struggled to rise, to flee, to live.
Mmmm, but it struggled in vain.
He ate his fill, gorging on hide and meat and bone and organ alike. The carcass went still long before he was satisfied of course, as they always did, but the meal was sweet and tender, savory and delightful, and he enjoyed every morsel until he couldn’t stuff another bite down his throat. With a sated groan, he dragged his body toward a nice, sunny rock to bask and digest and revel in the fullness of his belly and the afterglow of a successful hunt.
He slept, the heat of the sun and his distended belly making him hummm with lazy contentment. But as he slept, he changed. Magic of a sort woke in his veins for the first time in his life, burning through him and twisting his body until it became like that of his prey. Bony scales became supple hide, copper and white fur spreading across his new skin. Long hair sprouted from his tail and the back of his neck, and spilled over down the front of his face as ears grew, as bones warped and muscles stretched and pulled and toes fused into hooves, so that when he woke, he was the shape of the unfamiliar beast. The horse, the first one he’d seen, the first one he’d touched, the first one he’d devoured. Its blood sang to his, called out a shape he’d never known was his.
Hot blood, wide prey eyes, and the world around him exploded into color and definition beyond anything he’d seen before. What? He jerked to his feet, startled at the new shape of his limbs, the strange redistribution of weight, finding a new center of gravity. He snorted, tossing his head nervously, feeling the flutter of a mane against his neck. What the hell? Perhaps it was a dream. He’d never dreamed of being a prey-beast before, but he’d indulged in a tiny flight of fancy about prey beasts and their dreams, so. Maybe he was due. Sure.
Might as well explore what it was like in this strange new shape. So he ran, reaching speeds he’d never dreamed possible. He leapt and kicked and whirled, bucked and jumped and learned the way this body moved, learned its senses, learned its rhythm. And when the scent of others of his species teased the air for the first time in his life, he gave into his new shape’s pull to seek them out. Slipping into the water, he left his island home and swam for the distant mainland.
It took longer in this shape, limbs less suited to gliding through the water, tail no longer built for powering him forward, body no longer slinking and sinuous in the waves. Still, he made it to land, scrambling onto the sandy shore and shaking himself as dry as he could manage, water still clinging to the ridiculous long hairs that tumbled from his neck and his tail. So damn bizarre. His chest heaved, sucking in air after the long exertion, and he stomped his hooves, trying to shake off the clammy wet feeling of fur stubbornly holding onto ocean water.
Now. Where the hell was he? A sandy beach, lush greenery leading up to a mountain that smoked with warning. Steam rose from inland freshwater, shrouding the land partway up the volcano with a thick veil of moisture. Mmmm, warm and lovely, a bit warmer than his island had been, and he could smell abundant prey of a wide variety of species. Oh this would do nicely. And the new shape was happy too, the scent of his kind thick and heady in the air. With one last shake, he set out to explore this delightfully strange, luscious territory.