It waits until late at night, until clouds swallow the moon, until the only source of light are the mark carved into its forehead and the shine of its eyes. Red and white make for such pretty colors in the dark. It stalks around the manor for a while, catching glimpses of the twisted body in the reflection of the windows. It has no ears, instead its head is covered in three sets of horns that twist and turn just short of piercing its own flesh. The maw stretches on, like a spiked smile that can devour a human whole.

It might be humanoid, with its gangly limbs and sharp claws. It counts as long as it is bipedal. Though the bony spikes protruding along its back perhaps speak of a less human nature. Well, nobody perfectly imitates reality when they have never really been part of it. And it, it likes itself, the ways it looks on the hunt. Powerful, terrifying, untouchable. A true god.

When the time comes, it cannot help but cackle a little. The creature draws its body up to the window of its prey. Not that glass stops it, but it watches for a moment nonetheless.

The prey sleeps, none the wiser to everything that is happening around her. Her door creaks and buckles under the force of fists, and at her window something horrible slowly creeps in. There are so many liminal spaces between where glass had been cast into wood. It is frankly quite easy to slip through in a crack of breaking and rearranging bones.

Finally, it hovers over the woman, taking in the stench of old fear. It smells a little like rot and isn't that just the sign of a soul ripe for the picking. So unmarred, so freshly terrified. Truly delicious. The creature trails a claw across a soft cheek, almost tender in the way it seeks to draw blood.

The prey wakes at last, eyes wide with the immediate terror of not knowing. Her hands struggle against the body. It gives a delighted giggle,

Yes.

YES.

This is how it is supposed to feel, the hunt. It allows itself to be pushed off, watches as the prey scurries towards the door. It opens with force, cracks against the wall. The sound echoes like the wails of something that is dying. Nobody wakes. The creature follows, body slithering, clawing, twisted across the ground and along the walls. Really, it is quite amusing to watch the human try to get away. The hallway is long. The stairs are treacherous. The prey falls here, tumbles down the last steps in groans and whimpers.

It sounds delicious.

Somehow the woman manages to reach the front door. She leaves a small trail of blood along the frame.

Ooooh, does the prey really want to play outisde? How amusing. To go where the creature truly reigns. It shepherds the prey to forest, deep into the abyss of it. The trees here swallow sound and screams and life. Still, the woman runs, naked feet raw and bloody against the sharp ground of this reality. Where the creature follows, things blur and smooth. The prey cannot get away.

And just when it has had enough, is preparing to pounce, the woman runs into a tree. There is a hollow, dull sound and then the prey is out... like a light.

This has to be a joke. Right?

The hunt cannot end like this, without the final strike piercing flesh. The creature cannot accept a meal as ridiculous as this. There is no terror to feast on anymore, no insides to slurp up and tear while the prey watches. Where is the fun in this?

It regards the woman, a bit battered, a bit bruised, and decides to be benevolent for perhaps just one more night.

After all, it has yet to forget what kindness can be.