Chapter 89

The devil beast raced easily over the snowy landscape. The snowfall had finally stopped and a crescent moon hung in the sky. The air was crisp and cold, its favorite kind of night. Others preferred the warmth of the southern states, but this creature thrived in the frigid north.

The kill had been more than satisfactory. Sometimes with older people the blood had a stale taste, the body ripped too easily. But this one had been in prime condition and the kill had temporarily slaked the raging bloodlust.

It had almost been too easy, the prey more isolated than usual, danger almost too absent. Part of the thrill was evading capture, hiding from hunters. And it was getting very good at doing just that. On the other hand, having the freedom to destroy in uninterrupted isolation was a violent thrill in and of itself.