The scent was strong, his wounded prey dragging now in the fourth day of his pursuit.
His own shoulder burned, but the fire of it was insignificant in the face of his burning fury at the audacity of this mare... this female. The underworld itself broiled with hatred at her weakness, he could feel it coursing through his vengeful veins... filling his nostrils with her scent and the overarching need to end her.
Despicable.
Releasing a long howl as he ran, the pale-pelted wolfwalker let her know he was coming. Let her fear build, let it bubble and burst beneath her skin and flavor her muscles in that most delicious way. He could almost taste her, yes, could smell the sweet fore-telling of her delicately spiced flesh as her sweat-soaked scent wisped through the trees and led him on.
Howling again, he shifted... rising now in stallion form as her scent intensified and he found her waiting for him.
Lust-driven eyes glowed an intense green as he advanced from the shadows... but this was not the lust of love or procreation. No, this stallion, this purewalker spawned from the very womb of the underworld, knew nothing of such things. His was an existence endured only for the sake of the kill, this song of blood and fear. All around him the lullaby of death swirled, the mare's own fangs dripping blood. Yessss, either he would die here.... or she would. It was written on the wind, the very light of the world weeping as day faded.
"Goodbye." He soothed her, his ancient voice low and sadistically pitched to carry in that subtle way history had proven so successful. The death-song throbbed in his ears as her fear increased, her nostrils flaring beneath that feline pelt. The shadows grew longer, taking him in their embrace once more with a sigh. Quietly he paced forward, tracing the very edge of night until he was well within striking distance.
Exhausted and already bleeding, the catwalker mare could only stand there heaving, frozen in that unknown grip of emotion. Never before had she known such a thing, and nor had she expected to encounter it when she had first entered this land in search of new hunting grounds. Long she had heard of the fruitful lands to the west, of the great herds of soquili just longing to become her prey. She had thought to become a great contributor to the souls marching steadily to death's gate, instead she knew now she would join them. This was an old hunter, a sly slayer of skinwalkers and soquili alike... born from chaos, he was the very essence of it now.
"A demon..." She breathed... her iron rich blood pooling at her feet as she began to mumble nonsense beneath her breath.
Inhaling deeply, Seethe only smiled... reaching forward with his muzzle he touched her neck. "No..." He assured, sidling close to the quivering form. Even now did she think to escape him with supplication? Oyahusa himself would slay her.
Then, before she could read him, he struck. Just as she did, perhaps she was not as pathetic as initially thought?
Their lightning fast hooves drew sparks and the outraged call of birds, but that would not stop them.
No...
Fangs finally finding that channel of rich red, Seethe severed the very life of her, allowing her to crumple at his feet, her mortal wound leaving a sticky red smear down his side as she slid against him. Closing his eyes, he reveled in this moment, the gasping... the heady scent of blood on the air as she expired.
"No... I am a skinwalker." He finished, eyes closed as he tilted his muzzle upwards, the fullness of the night lifting with the deed finally done.