the wolves will chase you by the pale moonlight
{drunk and driven by the devil's hunger}
She shifted her marking out of his sight but that didn’t matter because he had already seen them, watched it happening from her own perspective—the blood, so much blood, the pain. The frown that creased the edges of his mouth was, for perhaps the first time in his life, genuine. What kind of monster cut up someone just for sport? What kind of monster enjoyed watching someone else scream for amusement? It was a question he would ponder for another day, but it was enough of a distraction that he forgot, even momentarily, about his original purpose in coming to the far-flung island. Instead, there was only her.
“Of course you don’t,” his voice was still dry, the syllables sounding off methodically, the voice deep and cavernous from his large body. “You’ve never met me before.” He shrugged, never one to shy away from the truth. He had all the capacity to become a trickster, and while he would perhaps entertain the idea for amusement, he did not have the genetic makeup to truly enjoy it. He was a scientist above all else. He was singularly focused and cruel with apathy, but not cruel for the sheer purpose of being cruel.
“My name is Woolf,” offering her that because it seemed fair she be on even ground.
When her gaze found his shoulder, he laughed, although the sound was rusty. “You’re right, it’s shallow.” He nodded in her direction. “Nothing like what has been done to you.” He turned his head to consider her, a frown building between his brows. “Although you’re certainly not fine so I’m not sure why you’re pretending.” Another shrug, a puzzled expression claiming handsome features, before washing away, like the tide claiming the shore. “I don’t feel guilty though. Why would I? I wasn’t the beast who did this.”
Woolf
