AND IT'S EVIL AND IT'S DAUNTING
It's been the monster. It always has been.
There was a morning, a soft and wonderful morning. Peaceful, quiet, and loving. Fiorina had been bringing Breckin around and Fierte had taken a liking to her. Curled against the spotted woman's stomach, he slept. Up and down his stomach went, tranquil and certain. The rhythm was good, so easy and so unlike the hunger that burbled in Fierte's stomach. There he slept, gentle and sweet.
And there he wept, awake in his dreams. Chasing little animals. He was hungry. The hunger found him in his subconscious, hunted him until he could no longer keep his legs beneath him. Found him in the waking hours.
Monster, Fierte, a monster.
He can't help but to black out, and when he does the evil is so overwhelming it stirs his meals and keep him awake at night. He remembers training with his mother, concern furrowing his brow. It wasn't for a lack of love or kindness that made him this way. No, it was the magic, the armor, the predator. It's his nature.
And when he finds her - little Aela, so confident and scheming - it's his nature that tells him to chase. Little Aela, so golden and new. Little Aela, so like the prey he wants to eat.
"You should run," he rasps. The muscled snake-tail behind him snaps, shivers.
"You should run." A whisper.
@[Aela]