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He felt the energy flow through his veins, a surge of what seemed a white hot flame, electricity. His hands were clenched into fists, eyes shut painfully tight; the energy pumped through his blood-stream like oil, he restrained from screaming, almost a howl.
Donovan was no longer human, but a raging mass of hate and greed, of fearful anger, and a merciless killer. His body was transformed into a shaggy form of darkness, a wolf of a different breed - a werewolf.
He was a lone hunter, the alpha male of his own pack. There was nothing that could stop his burning desire to destroy the innocent. It was all he knew: hunting, killing, death, and destruction. A hateful vengence was all he needed, but inside Donovan craved a little something more, what it was only he knew, only he held such a secret.
With blazing eyes he tore through trees, upsetting the underbrush and sending water and small animals into the air. He was on the hunt, not to be interfered with, and never to be angered. Then he spotted a shadow in the already dark forest: a fawn. His storm-gotten eyes piercing into the animal's brain, and in the painful struggle, the fawn fell dead to the ground. Donovan's first kill of the night. He wanted more; he would treat himself to something else tonight.
Donovan ripped through the forest to where the fawn lay. Such as wolves do, he thrust his head down to the deer's fattened gut, and with a gnashing of pearly white teeth and fangs, blood flowed like a river of red from the corpse of the tiny, virgin pure fawn.
Lifting head from the heap of sanguine carion, his muzzle was drenched in blood as well. Now full with his prey, Donovan slowly came to the brook that the deer was heading for. He took a drink and sloshed his snout around in the water to clean it of now cooling, deer blood. He glanced up thinking he saw another deer to attack, but found only a measley rabbit. Again, his wolf-like rage overcame him, and inside to knew that this was not enough.
With a single bound, he charged across the brook, and right ontop of a the unsuspecting rabbit. He left a pile of death to mark where he'd been, but the meal was not over yet. Donovan was hungering for more still: dessert. A human.
Donovan took a growling sprint and was on the hunt again with a craving for human flesh and blood. Chickens in farmyards squawked as he ran through, toward a city far away. He wanted a human -- happy, fun-loving, and maybe drunk -- from the city ahead; no more, no less.
The city lights were in view, reflecting like glitter in his ravaging eyes. The smell of fresh human blood filled his nostrils. One look up allowed him the sight of an ambulance helicopter, a sure sign of dangering trouble in such a safe city. Donovan took his final stretch to the distant glow of fluorescent lights.
****** How is that for the beginning of a fantasy about werewolves? I know it was a bit long, but thanks for reading, whoever has gotten this far..****
Thanks! AerisVampire
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