by BIG BAD WOLF
My Wolfess Zena is on a Hunt. Full Version. Class assignment. Class over. Passed.
Zena crouched on the ground. Her long ears rotated, catching the familiar sound. Her nose twitched, catching the familiar scent of iron. Her eyes darted left and right, catching every movement. The wind blew, causing Zena to shiver in her fur slightly.
Another group of outlaws, she thought. Guess I could do with a bit of fun. Maybe tonight will be the night my torment ends, and I won’t see their faces any more.
She slowly crept forward, carefully watching her footing. She wanted nothing to betray her position. Her wolf senses told her everything. There were a large number of people, of a wide mix of races. She could smell feline, canine, rabbit, and one scent that caused her to expose her teeth in a wicked smile.
Ah, one of those guys, she thought. I’m going to have fun killing him.
Again, she heard the sound, one that brought back painful memories. She could hear the screams, the crunch of bone, smell the scent of blood. She could see the faces of the men. She could hear him, and hear his laughter. She could smell his scent, see his evil eyes. She could feel her hips moan in pain, feel her shoulders scream, heard her legs scream, and feel her heart race in aching pain. She felt the pain she had received, and it caused her to give a low growl.
He won’t hurt me again, she thought. And this one will never hurt another person again!
She slowly moved forward, her eyes, ears, and nose scouting for anything that would give her an opening, or an advantage. She heard some footsteps, heard them coming towards her.
Shit, she thought. If I move, he’ll find me. If I stay here, well, I won’t like it.
She slowly slipped her hand towards her waist and wrapped her hand around something that felt like wood.
Guess this is my opening, she thought. All I have to do is a bit of waiting, and then I’ll dispatch him, and kill the others later. Let the hunt start.
She slowly turned her head in the direction of the footsteps, and began to think of the first man she had killed and everything else that had happened to her.
Some time after the deaths of her mother, father, and two sisters, she had come across a group of nomads. She had smelled something good coming from one of the packs in the center of their encampment. She had managed to get it, but she had made a minor mistake, and dropped something. This something caused some noise, which woke several of the nomads up. The group saw her, and came after her. She had managed to fight off several of them, but one of them, a female gray wolf hybrid managed to grab hold of her. It was then that they realized that she was just a child. They decided to take care of her, as the Wilds were no place for a child to live all alone. It wasn’t easy, because the young girl was feral, reacting only on her instincts. Careful questioning revealed what had happened to her, she and her family had been hiking in the mountains when an avalanche struck. Her parents were unable to save the others, and did everything they could to keep her safe, paying the ultimate cost. She had then had to make some tough choices to stay alive, such as eating her parents’ bodies.
These were things that the nomads understood, as it was customary to eat the bodies of the dead, both out of respect for the person, and to keep the Death Plant, which produced a highly deadly gas, from using the body as nutrients. Of course, there were things that had to be done before the ceremony, including making sure that certain proper procedures and rituals were preformed. Thus, they had a general idea of what she must have been through, and for a time the young girl was happy.
Then came the day it happened, the day he came into her life, and stole everything else from her. She could still hear the screams, smell the blood, and see the faces of the dead. Every night they haunted her still. She remembered the one man who came into the tent that she and the other children were hiding in. She remembered him grabbing her and one of the others. She remembered biting him in the throat, and tearing it out. She remembered him gurgling, and trying to stop the blood. She remembered rushing out, and grabbing onto one of the strangers. She remembered tearing his head off. Then, she remembered the pain, of the others bludgeoning her. She remembered the feeling of cold steel being placed against her throat. Then, she remembered his voice saying, “Hold it. We could use that one.” She remembered the sight of him, the long and venomous snake hybrid, and those cold calculating eyes, with a bit of fire. It scared her.
Then, she remembered what happened afterwards, the beatings, the starvation, and worse. She remembered the nights, and they were worse than the beatings. Those were the times he’d rape her, and she wasn’t even eleven years old then. Then she felt the worse pain of them all, the death of the child that was in her, both figuratively, and literally. He had then forced her to do something else afterwards, kill male captives. When she tried to rebel, he’d bite her, injecting her with deadly venom, and the only way she’d get the antidote, was if she did what she was told to do.
Then one day, when she was about twenty, she snapped. He had made a big mistake: he told her to eat the body of a boy who had fought back. She refused, and he tried to bite her. This time, she grabbed his fangs and snapped them off. She then plunged one into his eyes, causing him to scream in pain. He had then ordered his men to kill her. She fought back, becoming a whirlwind of death, tearing limbs and heads off, stabbing with the remaining fang, slashing with her claws, biting with her teeth. She received wounds of her own, stabs to the chest and stomach, clubs on the spine and skull, and more. It was a kill or be killed day.
When it was almost over, it was only her, and him. Then, she did to him what he had forced her to do to male captives, and tore him open and ate his heart and lungs. She had then watched him die, struggling to breathe, and coughing up blood. Then, when it was all over, she collapsed, waiting for a death, which never came to her. Somehow, she survived, and her wounds healed. After that, she did what she had to do, including stealing for food. However, there was something that made her seek out outlaws, and kill them.
And this night will be no different, she thought, coming back to the present. She thought about her name Zena, and what it meant. It had been the name of a Wild Beast officer, the only law enforcement group that enforced the law in the Wilds, and tracked down criminals to bring them to justice. This particular officer had been a fearsome fighter, and had gone down in the line of duty, and went out in a blaze of glory, fighting a large group of outlaws. The then unnamed wolf-woman had robbed a museum, and learned quite a bit about her, and took the officer’s name as her own. Now she was who the outlaws feared, far more than the tales of the original Zena herself.
She then took a look, and saw the man who was coming towards her. He reeked of alcohol, his walk seemed jerky, and his eyes seemed to have trouble staying open. For a moment Zena felt a sense of pity, pity that killing him would be too easy. She jumped out at him, knocking him to the ground. Using one hand, she covered his mouth, to keep him from shouting out a warning, and with the other, pulled out a knife, and plunged it into his heart, causing the blood to squirt out, covering part of her chest in blood. Then using her hand on his mouth, wrenched his head, causing his neck to snap, killing him silently. She pulled the knife out of the dead man’s chest, and licked the blade clean.
“Not bad,” she whispered. “I’ll eat later. Of course, your boss will be the last to die. He’ll get the full meaning of fear, when I rip his snake heart and lungs out, and eat them in front of him.”
Zena knew the best way to mess with the heads of these outlaws, and that was to pick them off one by one, and eat part of them, and leave their remains for their friends to find. Then, when it was just her and the leader, she’d have a lot of fun. Of course, there were some exceptions, like when the outlaws had slaves or captives. Then things were somewhat different, much like with this group.
Zena then crept closer, until she could see the group. She began marking them, seeing who had some sort of rank, seeing where the slaves were, noticing the weapons that the outlaws had, and above all else, where the leader was, and seeing how much he drank, and what. Some leaders could be quite drunk, which made them relatively easier to kill. Then there were those who stayed sober, and were quite formidable. This one seemed to be sober. And he was definitely a snake hybrid
Oh this will be fun, Zena thought. Now, how shall I do this? Will I pick them off as they go relieve themselves, or do I just rush them now, and just kill them as I see them? Decisions, decisions. She then saw one wander off away from the others. Guess I’ll pick them off, until they catch on to the fact that their friends aren’t coming back.
Slowly, she began to go towards the lone man. Killing the outlaws was the easy part. It was the how to kill them that posed the questions: Knife or claws? Tear them to pieces, or leave them intact? Those were the questions.
Eventually she got behind the lone target. Standing up, she placed a hand over his mouth, and held him against her body. She then got out her knife and slit his throat. She watched the blood gush out, and waited until he was completely limp. She then let his body drop. However, she heard a sound that caused her ears to stand up straight; metal clinking on stone. She slowly turned around, checking to see if anyone, especially the leader, heard it. She couldn’t see any sign that the group had noticed, but something told her to be careful regardless.
Then she saw the leader look in the direction of where she killed the first man. She heard him say something, but couldn’t quite make it out. However, she did have a general idea about what he was talking about: the one’s absence had been noticed.
I don’t have much time, she thought.
She watched as several men started walking around, and tapping on the shoulders of others. She saw the exchange of nods. One didn’t need to speak a language to know what was going on: they knew something was wrong. She watched as several of the men loosened the holding straps on their weapons, and a few had pulled theirs out, playing with them.
She slowly began to circle the group. She wanted to find the right spot, the back door of the camp, the weak point. The men may have been on guard, but there was always someplace where things were lax. She found this place right behind the leader, who was right next to the slaves and captives. She grinned. They are making this too easy, she thought.
She grabbed her knife and started running towards them. Her heart was pumping, her eyes were wide open. Her ears laid flat, her mouth was slightly open, a scream coming from her throat, “Zena. Zena! ZENA!” The outlaws turned, almost in slow motion compared to her. To them, she was a blur, pausing only to slash someone’s throat with her knife or claws. They stabbed their knives and short swords at her chest, and tried to club her from behind. A few pulled out pistols and tried to shoot her with them. Others just charged her, relying on their natural-born teeth and claws. Nothing stopped her, not blades, not clubs, not teeth, not claws, not even bullets. She felt pain, but it was a dull pain, like a mosquito bite. Some came at her individually, some came with a few others, but mostly they tried to attack in a large group. Still she managed to beat them, and kill a few of them each time.
Finally, after what had felt like an eternity, she had dealt with the last of the little fish. Blood dripped from her chest, her arms and legs ached, and her vision was fading. Still, she remained standing, and slowly turned towards the leader. The snake had remained out of the fighting for the most part, issuing orders. He had a mixture of shock and fear on his face.
“You’re a demon,” he said.
“No,” Zena whispered in a hoarse voice. “I’m far worse. I’m ZENA!”
She rushed him, slamming the snake into a tree. She slashed his chest with her claws. She thrust her hand into him, grabbed what she wanted, and pulled her hand out, revealing his still-beating heart. She bit into it, the blood gushing all over her jaw and him. Then, she thrust her hand into him again, grabbing a few more things, his lungs, and ate those as well. She then looked into his eyes, watched them fill with agonizing pain as they clouded over. Then, she let the body drop.
“May you suffer for a long time,” she said as she stumbled away. She looked at the captives and slaves, and said, “You’re free.”
Then she collapsed, and blackness overtook her vision.