7

Your senses reach out in the direction of the young deserter. He knows that he is being pursued, but he does not realize that it is not a court-martial that comes for him.

He begins to move faster. At first, you struggle to breathe as you try to keep pace, until the realization dawns that you have left the need for breath behind. Focusing on the pursuit, you begin to let go of that vestige of humanity. A sharp pain explodes in your mouth as your upper canines sharpen and extend for the first time. Running your tongue over your teeth, you feel your bottom canines have sharpened as well.

You can feel his fear mounting. His breathing becomes ragged. He turns and catches sight of you over his shoulder—the last mistake he will ever make. He stumbles and falls to the ground, and you pounce.

He begins to scream, screams that become a screech when he sees your fangs. Soon, his sweet, hot blood is pouring down your throat. You drink and drink, and drink some more. The soldier stops screaming, resisting, and soon you can feel his heart beginning to fade away.

"Enough," says your patron, appearing behind you. He pulls at your clothes. "Enough!" he says, forcefully. Losing patience, he tears you from your prey. You clean your face, looking at the soldier's countenance, frozen in horror.

He thought he had escaped his worst nightmare: another soldier's corpse rolled into a mass grave. But that was before you came out of the night, eyes and teeth flashing with hunger.

Looking down at the corpse, a thought crosses your mind.

My God, what have I become?

Oh, no! What have I done?

He was…delicious.

Next