shift

She shifts through the night, sky black as a widow, silent as a whispered rumor.  Her skin taut to her ribs, she tracks that familiar scent wafting through the bramble.  There was no honor in hunting such prey, but it had been far too long since the last hunt.

The  young couple laugh and chatter around their tiny fire.  The boy withdraws the marshmallow he had been roasting and absentmindedly puts it in his mouth.  He screams, the gooey, smoking remains of the white puff flying out off his mouth.  The girl giggles, and he scowls.  But soon he starts giggling too.  They laugh, they hug, they touch.  And they kiss beneath the pale moon.

Peering through the brambles and bushes, she smiles and readies her spear.  The huntresses had slaughtered too many of the cloven ones, too many of the clawed and hoofed runners.  Now any prey would be fair game.

She will not have to start chasing the other once she kills one.  Her weapon will easily pierce both at once.  Their screams will form a perfect harmony, a symphony of sickness echoing for miles about.  Her clan will know for sure what she will bring to the table.  Tonight, they will feast for the first time in days.  Tonight, they will feast on human flesh.