Saeva: "Words"
Frustration exploded.
She ran.
Her trollish feet pounded across sand and dirt, scratched by stones and thorns.
Trollish fingers tore away the undergrowth where it blocked her.
Trollish tears flew hotly from her eyes, glinting in the sunset's light.
Days and days of words hammered into her mind:
Calm. Breathe. Patience. Meditate. Peace.
No more! They didn't know her!
A howl forced itself from her throat.
Hands ripped clothing from her body.
A cliff, but she didn't stop.
A new word, the last one, before the idea of words was lost in the haze of rage:
Instinct.
The last footfall was furred. Clawed. Silent.
Predatory muscle launched a low, hungry form into the air like a bowshot.
Fifty feet down, a snuffling boar died instantly, its throat and gut torn wide.
Feast!
A trail of bright gore led off into the jungle.
Three hours until they tracked her down.
Words were unheeded. Ropes and nets couldn't hold her.
Spears pierced her, but even then she gave back in equal measure.
Finally, at the brink of death, she fought no more.
The cat relinquished the body, but not the mind.
Golden eyes, slit vertically, gave their own word with smouldering glare:
Feral.