This a quick story I wrote on the spur of the moment in anticipation of the Volume 4 Finale. It's not much, just something I thought would be interesting, to explore the psyche of a Grimm that wasn't just a mindless beast. Frankly, this creature is completely terrifying, and there is no way I managed to convey that well enough.
Anyway, I'll leave it for here. Have fun...
The Oldest Emotion
Fear.
The most primal of mankind's emotions. The most powerful. The most pungent. The familiar odour wafted into its nose. Once, a mere trace of the scent would have driven it into a frenzy, a blind rage towards the blight of life. That had been long ago.
Not anymore. It was no longer the creature that had entered the world crippled and mismatched, not as one, but as two bodies made whole. No longer did the lure of negativity hold sway over its instincts. No, it had survived, survived to see what such recklessness would cause. How many of its brethren had met their ends as a result of their ignorance, their wrath? Too many. But not it. It had lived, it had grown, and it had learnt. Learnt that the humans, too, had their own weaknesses.
It sniffed the air. There was no mistaking that smell—the filth of mankind, drifting gently on the wind and into its nest from a direction it knew all too well. The remnants of a nearby village, a withered monument to its victory.
The town called Kuroyuri.
It cracked its neck, a twinge of satisfaction creeping up its spine as an object dislodged from its back. Kuroyuri. There had been no survivors from that attack. Or rather, no survivors that were unintended. A memory rippled before it; a boy clinging to an older man, dread rolling from them like a crashing wave. Courage from the archer as he urged the younger to run. Regret and rage. Fury and grief. And a delectable fear as his windpipe was crushed. Another light snuffed out. Another trophy obtained.
But what of the boy?
Humans were smart, but they were also weak, weak enough to fall to their instincts. Revenge, and the strength that it gave, could easily provide them with purpose. And yet, what thrill was it hunting a human, if they did not pose a challenge? It had sensed them that night, the boy and the urchin. No amount of tranquility could hide their scent, their brilliant, repulsive light. But two children were hardly sport. Two warriors, on the other hand, with every reason to despise its kin?
It shuddered. The thought of such delightful hatred only served to whet its appetite. And this scent? This scent was unique. This scent belonged to a warrior, a Huntsman and his companion. Their grief...their guilt...it hissed with anticipation. No more waiting. It stormed out of its cave.
Hooves slammed against earth. The forest trembled and shook. As it crashed through the overgrowth, stomping plants underfoot, it caught something in the air. Another foul stench. Distant, but familiar. A cackle left its throat. This odour, this light...
The boy had returned.
The human's panic was palpable, and only spurred it on its path. What strength had the child gathered over the years? What challenge would he provide? It cracked its maw open, its lower snout snorting out a miasma of smoke. What trophies would it obtain from this torn group? It slowed to a trot as it approached. There were four warriors, each pouring with fear.
Each overflowing with terror...
The boy collapsed to his knees, his heart flooding with despair. It stretched its mouths wide. Black clouds streamed from both of its throats.
And it screamed.