Admittedly, he enjoys the thrill of chasing a small meat. They are nimble and agile and so easily scared. And they crunch so wonderfully in his jaws. He enjoys how the fleet-footed meats flee under his shadow, how they scatter and trample and panic, desperate for survival. One of them always ends up slower then the rest, and that one becomes his meal. They are not as savouring as the larger meat, nor are they as easy to catch as the swimming meat. But still, there is a sense of fun in scaring and killing the little things.
Recently, however, he has become frustrated with his hunting. There is still plenty of meat, no worries there, plenty of swimmers for him to catch and plenty of big meat to keep his hunger at bay. However, within his territory, are two new pieces of meat. Bipeds, like him, but odd things. They have no tail, they have no scales and they have strange matter upon their heads. They stand up straight, like the trees, and they whisper in an odd language. Granted, he doesn't know the language of any of his prey, but it is odder then the normal speak he hears. They are scurriers, digging for grubs and roots and other disgusting plant things he would never eat, and scavenging meat from the kills of the little hunters. There is no name for them, but he likes to call them the tree-meat, for they eat both plant and meat. They are a male and a female and they are odd indeed.
But, moving on to the original point, he is frustrated by them. Not because he does not understand them. Why should he understand something he will only eat later? No, it is because they do not panic and run right into his mouth like other meat. No, they are clever. They hide in the rocks and behind the thick trees, where he cannot reach them. They split up and throw rocks at him, distracting him from whichever one he can reach. They jump into water, where they can hide under the moving stream and confuse him. Put simply, they do not let him kill them, and it is annoying. He enjoys chasing the tricky little meats, but sometimes he wishes that the thrill would go, and they would just stand still and let him kill them.
Today is like any other day he hunts them. Normally, he finds one on its own, chases it, when they pull another trick and escape him. But today, he is confident. He had a large meal before, and it fuels his strength. It is the female he chases currently. She is more petite then her mate, but she is braver and faster. She does not panic, while the male does occasionally, though her mate is more intelligent, it seems. He finds her the more annoying of the two meats, and he will be sure to saviour her flesh when he snaps her up. Today, he found the female trying to catch swimming meat. Thus, he stomps through his territory, the land shaking under him, snarling as he chases the little female, intent on consuming her. Escape was not an option for the meat.
The tree-meat tries to weave around the massive trees to confuse him, but he has prepared himself for this hunt, and he keeps on a straight path, not allowing himself to try and pursue the female in such a manner, his eyes locked onto her form. Though clever, the rapid changes of movement will tire her out eventually, and soon, she is forced to maintain a straight path to build up her speed again. Unfortunately for her, he is catching up to her, smashing a small tree out of his path when she tried to duck behind it, before she was off again, and he kept after her.
Oh, he can hardly wait for when he can finally reach her and clamp his jaws around her, feel the sweet blood pulse onto his tongue, tear the soft skin and consume her panicking heart. The male will be horrified at the death of his mate, and he will be eaten as well, and they would be together in his stomach. Wonderful.
The female is tiring, but she keeps on, some kind of will driving her forwards. Impressive, but of no matter. He patiently keeps after her, maintaining a good pace. If he wanted, he could unleash a burst of speed and catch her right now, but he wants to whittle her down to nothing and see her fear when she is too tired to flee. Such thoughts bring mind to his eager stomach, and he roars again, letting her know that her time had come.
Regardless of his warnings that her efforts were futile, the female keeps running, desperate for her life, but it is all in vain. The very trees that once protected her now turn on her, and her leg catches on a sly root, tripping her and sending her flopping to the floor. Without momentum to keep her running, her body seems to shut down at once, and she gasps in shock and slight pain, trying to get air to refuel her muscles. But he has already reached her. The irony of her defeat makes this all the more sweeter to him, and he leers at his beaten prey, whom is trying to crawl away now, but his hand knocks her onto her back and pins her down, face-up. He wants to saviour this, the consuming of this most frustrating meal.
Her fear seeps out like oozing blood, and he is intoxicated by the sweet flesh under the odd protective layer she has. Oh, he has waited for this, to catch this meat and kill her. Once she is his, her mate will be killed as well. Victory belonged to him. Tilting his head, he idly examines the struggling meat, admiring the soft gleam of her flesh in the dim light. He can only imagine the glorious shine of her blood as he licks it off her corpse. Should he kill her now? Crush her in his claws and let it be that simple? Perhaps he should taunt her, tear off her protective layer of skin and damage her, bit by bit, causing her to die slowly. Or maybe, maybe he could incapacitate her. Yes, that would be interesting. Damage her legs so she cannot move, then catch her mate. He would kill the male tree-meat and the female would watch her mate die. The terror and fear and horror from her would be immense, and he will enjoy her agony of loss before he kills her.
But he has her now, and finding her mate would be too much hassle. Her fate was sealed. He roved his eyes down her petite form, admiring the blue gleam of her eyes, which are wet from the fear, yet determined for some reason. It is enjoyable, to see the reaction of such a creature, so unlike any other meat. Tilting his head, his jaws open and allow his tongue to seek her skin. His muscle gently slides over her head, tasting such a sweetness that is so intoxicating, his mind seems to drift into the puffs of white in the sky. This is not the firm power of the normal meat, this is the sweet joy of a meat sent by the world itself for him. Her flesh is soft, so smooth, and his whole body aches for her blood. He finds it oddly intimate, tasting his most frustrating chase, but she is his now, and his teeth close in.
A stabbing pain suddenly hissed in his foot, penetrating the weak skin between his scales and scraping against his flesh. With a roar that is more composed of anger then pain, he turns his head and sees a piece of wood jammed in his foot, and the distinctive scurrying footsteps of the female's mate. The pain hisses again, and, foolishly, he releases the female to focus on reaching the wood that hurts him. His jaws manage to reach it and pull it out, but only when the pain is gone does he realise his mistake. Turning his head sharply, he is horrified to find his prey missing. The accursed male has distracted him long enough to pull his mate to safety.
Anger floods him, and he roars to the sky above, damning the meat for escaping yet again. He will tear them apart for this! He will consume them, bone by bone! He will make them suffer for eluding him once more!
But, then, he stops his rage and thinks of something; He had a taste of the female. Such sweet flesh, with the delicious blood pulsing underneath. Such fear in her, yet bravery, denying him ultimate victory by refusing him the pleasure of tormenting her. The wonderful flesh is still out there, waiting for him to retrieve it, singing to him, tempting him to satisfy the lust for blood. He has an even greater motive to catch them now. He knows what sweet flesh they will have...
The tree-meats would have found a spot to hide by now, perhaps within the confines of large rocks or branches and he cannot bring himself to seek them out again, after such a loss against them yet again. At least he had a taste of what was to come. Well, the female at least. He idly wonders what the male would taste like, before shaking his head and moving off to the river, intending to drink. He has the sweet taste locked in his mind, and he doubts it will ever leave him.
One day, soon, he would catch that female, and her little mate, and when he devoured them, it would be glorious...
Author's Notes: I enjoyed writing this. I have to say, it's tons of fun to write from Spiny's point of view. Just a guy wanting to eat some people. Nothing complicated, except that his meals never just stand still and let him eat them XD