:Three

We Shadow Lurkers have a tendency to stick to – well, the shadows.
There have been several controversial discussions on the ethics
Of the “’Proper’ Way of Hunt”, and are still in circulation. But really,
I don’t pay attention to those sorts of things. Oh,
No, don’t get me wrong. I have my – things.
Like, I don’t really like hunting families;
That’s just not my thing. There are some bigots that don’t really seem to care
About the dangers of leaving offspring without their parents,
But normally, I don’t associate myself with them.

What I’m about to tell you, sort of contradicts with what I just said.
I know I said I “normally don’t”, but there’s a reason for that.

It had been just like any other day.
I was prepping my equipment at my hunting shed,
(Which I had built far away from the bustling city),
When suddenly I heard three knocks on my door.
It’s rare that anyone visits me; especially out here.
Cautiously, I slide the cover from the peephole to check who it could be –
Some weirdo wearing a cape
(I mean common, everyone knows capes
Are the worst thing to wear when you’re hunting).
I give her a second to speak.
She doesn’t.

“Uhhh, do you need something.. or something?”

She responds in some weird mix of garbling language I’ve never heard before.
I can’t really understand what she’s saying, but she seemed harmless,
And she seemed hungry and cold, so I let her in.

“You came at a great time, I was just about to go out to get some food.” – lies

She garbles something at me again, but I thought I heard her
Say she wanted to come, so I handed her a knife.

That’s how it all started. We’d hunt together, pretty much, every day,
Didn’t really speak much, but I enjoyed her company.

We’re out in the forest tracking some prey on our own,
When I hear an abrupt skin prickling screech.
I rush over to access the situation and see her convulsing;
Her body morphing, lumps shooting under the pall of her cape,
Then it stops.
I lift up her cape –
She’s killed a mother
And she’s stopped moving.

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