CHPT 81: The Hunt Begins..

Brenda's eyelids hung like weights over her eyes— closed almost completely. She was hurt bad, the blood that came out of her wound now spread out farther from its place of origin. She already lost too much blood.

"[Im sorry, you can't save her..]" Arne said quietly.

Claude ignored him and slowly crouched down beside her, Frosty whined as he looked at her. She was whispering something over and over but he couldn't quite hear her.

He leaned in and listened closely.

"C-cold.....why is it so cold?"

He immediately pulled her closer to him and bent his upper body over her to shield her from the heavy drops of rain.

She suddenly opened her eyes wider and spoke.

"Carter? Carter!...I'm glad your ok." She said.

Claude felt his eyes begin to sting and his chest felt like it was being run through by a spear.

"I'm so sorry, Brenda. I'm so sorry I wasn't strong enough..." Claude said in a voice much deeper than his own.

She weakly tilted her head back and looked up at him, simply staring— no fear.....no horror.

"What are you?" She asked plainly.

"Monster.." he replied.

She smiled and faintly shook her head. "Monsters don't cry, they don't put their lives in danger for the sake of others either..."

After she finished speaking for a moment, she reached up for his mask. Claude's reflexes kicked in and he caught her arm mid way.

"Please, let me see the face of the man that saved me more than once in one night." She said.

Claude reluctantly released her hand and let her take his mask off. Once it came off, his true appearance was revealed.

Instead of recoiling and screaming in horror, she reached up and placed her hand on the fur that covered the sides of his face.

"Your too hard on yourself.....you did everything you could....and more. Nobody blames you for anything, so don't worry about me..." she stopped for a moment and truly smiled before continuing, "I'll finally get to see her again"

Her voice was steadily decreasing in volume and the smell of blood was getting stronger despite the steady downpour of rain, she was running out of time.

Claude thought about her final sentence, soon realizing she must've cared for their fallen teammate more than he knew.

Claude and Frosty could only cry while he held her frail and cold body. She spoke again, in a voice so quiet that the rain overpowered it.

"C-Carter...don't....don't let them.....don't let them get away with this....don't let them do this to any more Heroes...."

After she stuttered out her request, her eyes glowed a beautiful shade of bright gold and the smell of sage slipped into his nose. He suddenly felt his cuts close and the ache in his bones lighten significantly. She used the last of her life— the last of everything she was, to heal him.

He shook faintly as he held her lifeless body in his arms. The rain pellets splashed on her smiling face and rolled back into her silky golden locks.

He couldn't believe what was happening. So much devastation— so much chronic and inescapable pain, caused by the raiders. In these moments something in him changed. He no longer questioned his morality or what he was— it didn't matter right now. Hero or not, the world would be a better place if the raiders were removed from it. Forcibly.

Claude stood up, the sounds of heavy rain and Frosty's whines turning into bass heavy snarls assaulted his ears. He could feel the PitWolfs maddening anger and pain seeping into his mind and body, even though he was never acknowledged by them, he learned to like them because Claude did. Now they lay across the field, reduced to corpses.

Claude closed his eyes and lowered his head to put his mask on. His muscles felt more alive than ever, they felt like they were growing beneath his skin in preparation for what was to come.

"There's no other option. There's nothing else they deserve." He thought as he fastened the tie on his mask.

While he stood in the rain, he activated his skill, (Sensory Focus) for the first time. His nose screamed to life and immediately became a guide that would lead him to the revenge he demanded. He could barely see colorful lines leading out across the field and down the path.

The rain droplets broke through the pathways and damaged the scent trails, he was on a short time frame. But his speed wasn't a problem by any means. He'd reach them— he'd find them, no matter what.

He tried to speak again, but found that it was too difficult.

Instead, he threw his head back and let out a deep and guttural vocal manifestation of his pain and hatred. Frosty joined in and howled deeply, the combined sounds reverberated through the field and down the path like a blood red tsunami of hatred.

They they were off, running through the night as predators hunting their prey.