The Hunt (Feeding the Wolf)
The rain fell hard. Fat drops of moisture that drenched everything in site. Not that the forest needed it, it had been fed all the water it could handle this season. Small eddies ran down the slopes of the wilderness floor, pooling in cold, shallow ponds.
A thick curtain of rain masked the view in all directions. Beyond arm's length was impossible to discern. Vague shadows of trees loomed everywhere but offered no cover. The branches had been bare for weeks.
No sounds could be heard through the cacophony of thunder and raindrops crashing on the leaf-covered ground. Tracking had become difficult. The scent of his prey was obscured by the hundreds of smells found in a wet forest. Only instinct was left as an option.
His prey couldn't go far. Of that he was certain. He knew her naked body was bruised and scratched by the branches. He had chased her for hours now. The rock-strewn ground would tear her feet and bloody her knees as she stumbled, frantic to get away from him.
This was his forest, his environment. He would find her soon. He stretched his arms to the sky and gave a howl that might have echoed for miles had it not been for the rain. Then again he raced off in search of his prey.
Soon he would feel her again. Taste her. Smell her. She would be his once more. His loins tightened at the thought. His heart beat against the inside of his chest until it felt he would explode. He strained to rein in his excitement.
In only moments he heard her crying out. The fear and disappointment was tangible in her voice. Could she feel him drawing closer? She must know how it would end.
He stopped with effort before he could fall off the rim of a depression in the forest floor. The bowl was nearly ten feet deep and more than twice that in diameter. There she stood in nearly two feet of water. The clay bottomed pit served as a natural trap. The smell of wet earth and fear intoxicated him. He leapt from the edge to pounce upon her.
"Mine." he thought. "Mine forever."