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The night proved to be moonless and starless, the sky covered with unseen clouds. Darkness covered the territory of Hindspaw clan, their militia standing guard by the lit fires and trying to look out for danger. A dozen dead bodies, beheaded and left under the sun to rot was a very stimulating occurrence.
One such outpost stood on the eastern end of their territory, a mile or so away from where the murders happened. This little post was stationed near a burrough for several dozens of single bucks of the clan and two families that were just starting to have kits and did not require larger accommodations yet.
Two bunnies stood vigil near the burning fire, alert and prepared for a sudden attack, horns in hands to sound the alarm any moment. The treacherous Hopps has already stricken once, there was no telling when will they do so again. In the morning though they would be gathering their full forces to strike back, take revenge and finish off the hateful clan that dared defy them.
It was clothe to five hours before dawn when both bunnies saw something move. A silent and barely seen silhouette in the dim light cast by the fire. Tall, clad in darkness and shadows, the figure was mostly indistinguishable. Aside from the eyes. Those round pupils of unnatural emerald, the supposed color of life, now but a sickly visage of death and decay, shining in the dead of night.
The guards were no strangers to fear and prided themselves in being able to face and overcome it, true bravery proved in the face of adversity, not favourable circumstance. But this night something else walked the shadows.
The rabbits did not quake with terror when the figure passed by them, nor were they stupefied into shock by the otherworldly creature. But neither moved from the place, suddenly and clearly understanding the futility of anything they were capable of doing. They were but drowning souls in the uncharted waters of infinite ocean. No hope, no salvation, no light at the end of the tunnel for them. Just the perpetual darkness and allconsuming despair. Only one way out - into the merciful hands of death.
Two knives were drawn. Two throats were slit by the very same hands that were attached to their bodies. First blood covered the earth on this night accompanied by silent gurgles and tears of the dying bunnies. A silent promise of much more deaths to come.
Nicholas stood in front of a door leading into the dug up burrough. The door was locked and bolted, but this was not enough to deter him. The fox, his strength unnatural, pushed with his left paw. The thick wooden frame creaked, protesting against the force being applied, gradually increasing, until the door could no longer hold. It fell to the dirt floor in a heap of splinters, making no sound. Just as the fox's feet made no sound traversing over the fallen debris. All remained as peaceful in the bunny sleeping house as it was any other night. Calm breaths of the fast asleep bucks', loud snores of others not worrying them in the slightest. Being able to shut down one's own hypersenses was essential for any mammal to have a good sleep. Those that were unable to, were doomed to a horrible fate of slowly going mad and drained from sleep deprivation.
Nicholas took in a long breath, getting in all the smells that permeated through the burrough. A mild smile played on his muzzle, his eyes roaming around, devoid of their usual cover, two throwing knives in both paws. It was time to slightly even up the odds for Hopps clan head to stave off the Hindspaw attack till he dealt with the more pressing matters.
The mercenary walked into what was the sleeping room, a big space inside the burrough separated from the kitchen. And the sight, more ugly than anything he could see in the nature, made his lips stretch further in a smile. He hated what saw each time his eyecover was removed, but this was a time to kill with a certain purpose in mind and the method he despised was the most efficient in attaining it.
The poor buck that had the misfortune of being closest died after the first cut, surgically precise in separating the head from the torso. Nicholas never stopped after that though. He slashed and sliced and cut into the body. His eyes provided him with the layout and his hands obediently following the lines.
Blood pooled in the bed. Where once a bunny slept, a dozen pieces rested in a jumbled mess of cut up intestines, messed up organs, rotting flesh and matted fur. Yet, this was but a start and the fox had more work to do.
The start was mostly similar, but was a rounded cut delivered at the edge of the bunnies collarbones. Head cut off and life extinguished, Nicholas continued with the methodical expertise of someone used to this exact thing. Find the exterior lines, follow them. Cut off a half of left hindpaw, then a line at the left shoulder traced by the knife's sharp edge separating the hand from torso. Cut a portion of the bunnie's chest, his ribcage proving no resistance to the carefully traced arc of the blade. Second leg to be cut into three pieces: at the knee and halfway up his thigh, last strike separating it completely from the remainder of the torso. Both hands working in an intricate dance, the fox freed the bowels from their imprisonment, cut up the heart in two along with the leftovers of the chest. Several more slices left the still untouched organs in tatters and pieces. The bunnies had so little lines to work with though…
No sound escaped the room as the red furred butcher worked his magic. All moves controlled, motions deliberate and flawless, he looked more like an artist painting a landscape with his brush using blood and gore as his paint, knives as his brushes and the lines only he saw as his guides.
It took Nicholas barely an hour to slice and dice one room full of sleeping bunnies. Exactly forty eight corpses, the number of years he felt himself to be of age mentally, were left lying in different number of pieces all across the beds and floor. Several bucks escaped the death, but whether it was good or bad was for the morning to decide.
For now, they just slept in ignorant bliss, oblivious to the smell permeating the room or the carnage that took place in it just awhile ago. Dreaming of nothing, feeling nothing, hearing nothing in the ultimate silence of death, as the black figure crawled in the night, back from whence it came…
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A/N: Okay, I am loaded with work right now. Still, they can't take away my music and riding the public transport time, so I am still writing this. And man does this story turned into a monster inside my head. So yeah. Unless I somehow loose this melodic death metal mood that is currently in charge of this story, we are foing to see more.
Combat Engineer: What's ARCF? I am either dumb, or I haven't read it, and if you liked it, I probably ahould read it... Just don't get used to being spoiled, I am not a consistent person.
syhsnakey: That makes at least two of us. Or three if we count Combat Engi, but he did not confess his love so openly.
Anything else? Right. Hope you enjoyed or suffered, cause I don't care.