The forest was still. Not even the wind dared to stir the leaves as Gytha moved through the shadows, her bare feet making no sound on the damp earth. Every muscle in her body was coiled with purpose, her claws gleaming in the pale light that filtered through the canopy. The scent of her prey lingered in the air, sharp and metallic, tainted with fear. Gytha could taste it, feel it vibrating in her chest like the low growl that rumbled just beneath her breath.
Dipak’s blood had spilled. The thought sent a cold rage surging through her, but she remained steady, controlled. Emotions were for later. Now, there was only the hunt.
Her black eyes, cold and unblinking, scanned the undergrowth. She didn’t need to see him to know he was close. The human who dared harm the Life Spark was running, scrambling like a frightened animal. She could feel the terror rolling off him in waves, hear the frantic beat of his heart pounding against the trees. He thought he could hide, but Gytha was patient. She was a predator, and this forest was her domain.
She dropped low, blending with the thick shadows, her body eerily still, like a coiled serpent ready to strike. Her claws dug into the earth, sensing the tremors of his movements through the ground. The soft rustle of fabric caught her ear, distant but close enough. He was up ahead, fumbling through the brush. Gytha's lips curled into a feral smile.
Her body was a weapon, trained for stealth and death. She moved with unnatural silence, her icy aura creeping ahead of her like a warning that came too late. She allowed herself to enjoy the chase for a moment, to savor the anticipation of the kill. The human was panicking now, stumbling over roots, his breathing ragged. He was close. Too close to escape.
She watched him fall, his hands clawing at the dirt as he gasped for air. The thick scent of sweat and blood filled the air. He had no idea how close she was. Gytha crouched, mere feet away, her body rigid and unmoving, waiting for the perfect moment.
Then, like a sudden storm, she was on him.
A sharp, pained cry split the night as Gytha’s claws sank into his flesh. She dragged him back into the shadows before he could even think to scream again. His blood, hot against her cold hands, pulsed through his veins in a panic, but he was too weak to struggle. His body trembled beneath her grip, his breath shallow and rapid as he realized the truth. He was prey.
“You shot him,” she whispered, her voice as cold and hard as the icy touch of her claws. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement of fact. The human whimpered, tears streaming down his face, but Gytha had no mercy to offer.
“You will never touch him again.”
Her claws slipped through his skin like water, cutting deep and swift. His breath hitched, and then he was silent, his body limp in her grasp. Gytha held him there for a moment longer, her eyes cold, her expression unreadable. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she released him, letting his body crumple to the ground like a discarded rag.
The forest was silent again, but this time, it was her silence, the quiet of a predator after the kill.
She stood over the body, her breath calm, controlled, and turned away, leaving nothing but a faint chill in the air. She would return to Dipak now. The hunt was over.
