Story Time – Blood Lust


The day began like so many before it. Smoked string cheese smeared over sweet potato bread washed down with strong black coffee. Picking herbs in the frosty climate of Northrend requires a hearty breakfast to banish the wind’s icy bite. Wildberri left the comfort of the Inn with her sketchbook, pens and wicker basket tucked firmly under one arm. With luck she’d find that glut of gold clover the Borean Tundra was supposedly famous for, that fool’s gold which had lured so many into the frozen embrace of permanent winter.

The soft morning light passed into something brighter, but still the Shaman busied herself with samples and sketches. Afternoon rolled through into evening with the moon rising full and fat. Still she focused on her flowers until tired and satisfied, she filled her basket with fragrant blossoms, rolls of canvas detailing everything she’d seen and the uneaten lunch provided by the hostelry.

Heading back to the encampment, she paused, a familiar scent twisting on the air. Nostrils twitching, she tasted the coppery tang of blood drifting on the breeze. Closing her eyes, she let nature run it’s course. Hooves became paws, horns melted into ears and her purple skin became rough fur. Tail thumping on the previously precious goldclover, she breathed deep before bounding off following that intriguing smell.

Snout buried in still warm flesh, she felt the blood, sweet with a hint of spice pour into her mouth. The trail had led her to a fallen deer and some Orc still gloating at the kill. Driven into a frenzy by the thick red liquid and the raw ripped meat, she’d resorted to type and gone for the throat of the prey still breathing. Her fangs found his neck, that soft spot between helm and chest piece. All manners and civilities forgotten, she gorged herself  on green meat. Then she padded quietly down to the lake and watched the stars for a while before washing the blood from her fur.

The Draenei who rose from the reddish waters collected her belongings and started the journey back to the Keep. It was important after all, to remember who you are.

2 Responses

  1. That left me with chills of understanding and deep, deep knowledge: perfection, Erinys.

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