As the Monsters Do

I hunt like the monsters do. Patience, focus, speed, and violence; end the hunt before the prey knows it has begun. I do not partake in fear as the other denizens of this hole do. I do not succumb to the voraciousness of the kill as my cohorts do. I keep things simple, clean, and quick.

A slice of the throat, a snap of the spine, a blow to the head, or a shot to the heart. Whatever gets the job done quickest and cleanest. I am like the others in another way, though. The hunt is my life, my work, and my love. I pray night and day to the dark star gazing down upon us for a bountiful kill. I do not speak to the others about my hunts. That would take away the sanctity and purity of my vocation.

The steel plants around me camoflauge my movements throughout the tangled bones of a once immense city. The bite of steel on my skin reminds me of my daily labors. When the dark star awakens, I begin my prayers by burning half of last nights bounty. I feed the sky because it cannot provide for itself. The smoke of my kill rises to kiss the dark star and fill its stomach with the delicious sap of life. The dark star provides me cover and power in return.

After my prayer, I check up on each of my preys. Who is vulnerable? Who is safe? What do they have? Do I want it? Where did they get it? Are they armed? Are they prepared for death? A new question forms everyday and an old one is lost at the same rate. After that, I check on those hunting me and I change my campsite. I do not maintain a pattern as those hunting me are as smart as I am. I keep my nests exposed to the sky, to keep my sleeping body under the gaze of the dark star. It is dangerous but no one is fool enough to enter such a transparent trap.

With that done, I begin the hunt. There is always something to feast upon and I feast lightly. Todays hunt is for the Tarragor: a beast of sinuous muscle, claws as sharp as its instincts, and bile as hot as fire. It was recently wounded when running away from a female Tarragor; it has failed to mate and it will not get a second chance as the females spread rumors of a males failure. I am doing this creature a service as its fate has already been decided by its own people.

My spear is made from the bones of the steel trees around us and forged under the eye of the dark star itself. It was a hard won gift but it speaks for itself in its elegance and strength. The Tarragor sits on the edge of a steel tree, prepared for the coming onslaught of hungry predators. It will never get the chance to survive that battle. I lift my spear, which has been coated in the flesh of the earth to prevent any light from glinting off its steel. I reel my arm back and wait for the perfect moment.

The creature sits patiently knowing that the slightest movement could expose its vital organs. It may not know I am here but it knows when the hunt has begun. In a flash, it spreads its bile around itself causing steam to rise into the air. This distorts my vision, preventing a clear shot. I hear the frustration of a foolish hunter who charges out to meet the Tarragor. The human-like creature grapples with the Tarragor and they go tumbling off the edge of the tree.

I look over the edge to see the hunter being eviscerated by the claws and teeth of the powerful creature. My opportunity arises when it opens its mouth to feed; I throw my spear as the sky throws rock. Fast, precise, and violently. The Tarragor is struck in the heart and it collapses without a sound to be made. I move to the body quickly and slit its throat to confirm its death; the bile spills onto the ground leaving a burning scent in the air.

I tote the creature on my back, leaving the dead hunter behind because that was not my kill. I skin, gut, and prep the animal for the mornings prayer. Finally, I feast heartily on the marrow, heart, stomach, and flesh of the Tarragor. Sleep comes easily as it does for us all in this abyss upon the earth.