Hunter
A/N: This is simply a drabble. It has no real purpose and no real plot. It just is. I should also add that there is no defined coupling. The words may seem to describe a certain pairing but they are completely metaphorical and descriptive. It should also be noted that I know a thing or two about what it feels like to be stalked.For that reason this story ispretty personal for me.Anyway just read and respond.
Disclaimer: I own nothing TT-related. I should also warn you that this ficlet is a little…darker than normal for me. Oh, I also definitely don't own the first line of the story. That belongs to the very talented Gregory Maguire.
Love makes hunters of us all. The way I stalked her, the way I hunted her proved this to be true. I would follow her path always, always, a few steps behind. Her scent, one of sweet honeysuckle and apple blossoms, was my beacon. It led me to her, no matter where she was. It allowed me to make her my prey, my quarry.
The love I feeldrove me onward. Pushed me deeper into my role of hunter, of trapper, of catcher. I, in my mind, was the majestic lion stalking the fragile gazelle. I would have her if it killed me. I would trap the pretty bird, forevermore caging her, keeping her as my prize.
Like all prey she remained unaware of my hunt. She knew that I watched her, knew that I wanted her, knew I would do anything to have herbut was unaware of my following, my tracking. Unaware that soon the hunt would end.
She fought. Like all prey does when the end is near, when the desperation begins to sink in, she fought. Every piece of her heart tried to resist, tried to hold back, tried to escape from the snare. Tried to leave the lion's den, tried to climb out from the asps' pit. But from me there was no escape. From me there was no freedom, no unlocked cage door. I was the hunter, who'd captured the rarest of all creatures. I would not set her free.
I displayed her for all who could see. Made her mine, owned her completely. She was my prize, my pet, and my prey. She was mine. I, who stalked her. I, who trapped her. I, who hunted her. Love truly does make hunters of us all.
A/N: I was re-re-re-re-re-reading 'Wicked" and came upon the opening line. Something about it just sort of stuck with me and spurred this ficlet into being. I didn't mean for this to seem quite so…primal? So…dark? It just happened. I definitely feel that the overall theme is at least slightly different than usual. And before anyone jumps to conclusions, let me just say that there was NOsexual action at all. I say this because I let a friend of mine preview this and she instantly assumed that a sexual assault had taken place. She was very upset until I explained it to her.So please, rest assured that there was no sort of violation taking place. It's not my style.