The taskmaster of the Amaranth Isle saw the workforce – the livestock population – of the Golden Reef fleeing across the bridge toward his gate. He stepped out and closed it behind him. He said to the other two guards that watched over it, “Hold your position. Lunch is coming all on its own.” And the two, clearly eager to eat freely and naturally for once, grunted reluctant agreement.

Yven ran toward them, toward the safety of her home.

And the taskmaster got in her way. “Where’s your clearance band?” He patted his arm.

She was so panicked, running so recklessly, that her hooves got in a tangle and she almost fell. When she stopped, she gasped up at him in surprise. “My band? But you… You recognize me!”

“Yes, I do. I recognize the cleanest blood on the Amaranth Isle.” He walked toward her. She backed away, so he lunged and grabbed her arm, squeezing until she shouted in pain. “Nice fur, good muscle, never given a drop of blood to any sanguinate. Never even bit by a snake, I bet. Doesn’t get any fresher than you.”

She struggled and shouted, “What are you doing? I belong to the Amaranth Isle! I don’t belong here!”

“Oh, but you’re here, girl. Whether you belong to it or not, here’s where you are. And the Prime Sanguinate was very clear. I’m to feast freely. And you’ve got me hungry.” He dragged her back toward the gate.

Yven twisted violently, throwing herself off the ground and turning to drive both her hooves into the taskmaster’s face with all the force she could muster. He flew back and hit the gate hard, slumping to the ground. Through blurred vision, he watched Yven running away from him, back toward the city she’d been fleeing moments before. The taskmaster pawed at his jaw and felt blood running from his nose and lips. The two guards on the other side of the gate laughed at him.

“You two shut your fucking mouths or I’ll make you stay on that side of the gate until protections are back in place.” He grumbled, got himself up, and narrowed a furious gaze at Yven’s retreating form. The city she ran toward was in chaos. Hundreds of golden guards were dragging people through the streets, raiding the buildings in search of plague-free anthrals to feast on. Even white-garbed sanguinate servants and officials had turned into predators in an instant. There were brawls in the streets where guards and servants fought over prime specimens they happened upon. None of that prey was half as clean as Yven. She’d be pounced by a hundred hungry sanguinates in seconds.

“No, no, not letting that meal get away from me,” the taskmaster muttered, stalking toward the city. “The girl’s my lunch. I’ve saved her for far too long to let anyone else have so much as a bite!”

*

“You did recently say to me that we can’t execute the entire city, didn’t you?”

Aetha sighed, “I might’ve acted rashly.” She stood looking at the eternal pillar she’d toppled, the banner of her family in the dirt. “Won’t you seek a meal of your own?”

Quil shrugged. “You know I never drink of the anthrals. I don’t see them as my kind. Not anymore.” Unlike all the other sanguinates in the Golden Reef, Quil’s body seemed fulfilled by the transformation that came with drinking of beasts, his narrow gray from perhaps stronger for its inhumanity. “I’ll visit the gates to the other districts to ensure that this carnage doesn’t overflow into the rest of the city. I should also visit the piers to make sure no hungry fool tries to board a foreign ship in search of a meal.”

“I should’ve thought of that.” Aetha sighed. “King Hysmal will be angry if any of Revan’s nationals end up plagued or dead.”

“He won’t care too much as long as it’s no one important. Queen, will you not also feast?” He gestured to the blood-strewn square, which was now fully evacuated both of fleeing anthrals and the sanguinates who hunted them. A few people remained, half-drained shopkeepers dragging themselves numbly through the blood, but nobody worth feeding on. “Be honest with me. You still haven’t fed since the other night.”

“I’ve lost my appetite since Eiri’el…” Aetha began, but shook her head and sighed. She sheathed her obsidian blade and walked down into the blood, looking from side to side.

Then she caught a sight that surprised her: beauty, in the midst of it all. Perfectly white fur and azure hair, a pristine example of an alpin anthral. It was an unlikely enough sight that it stopped Aetha in her tracks. The alpin woman fled toward the square from the Amaranth Isle, wearing the yellow grass dress of a plantation farmer. Dark blue hooves and horns, luxurious gleaming fur and a long narrow tail with a voluminous tuft of lovely blue at its tip, the woman ran panicked toward the now-emptied buildings on the square’s eastern side. And Aetha was surprised at the rise of heat in her chest, the way her eyes sharpened and her hands flexed. She hadn’t felt a sincere chase instinct in so long that she barely recognized it.

Quil, beside Aetha, looked down on her with interest. “Something catch your eye? You’ve a youthful look, all of a sudden.”

“Do I?” Aetha smirked. “I’m surprisingly hungry, it seems. My apologies, huntmaster, but please manage this mess for me. See that the banner rises and the carnage ends in its time. I’ve a feast to attend.” She drew her sword and stalked into the square.

Behind her, Quil bowed, “Happy to see you’ve your appetite back.”