Scars

By: Neko-chan

A/N: Yet another Creative Writing Club topic. This one's was werecreatures. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I own all characters. The only thing that I don't own is the topic.

Have you ever wondered what it's like to run in the moonlight? To smell the fear of your prey on the wind? Have you ever looked up at the sky and know---_know_ without doubt---that you would soon run free and join the others of your kind? To feel the change upon you, a sharp pain that makes you see red with the intenseness of it, yet still feel pleasure...

The warm blood fills your mouth and the flesh of your prey gives way beneath your claws. You hide in the shadows, crouching and waiting...

This is what it is like to be werecreature. This, my friend, is what it's like to be wereleopard. You not only are _of_ the wilderness, but you _are_ it.

The night is dark, clouds obscure the moon. No one breathes, not one sound permeates the wood. But you know---you KNOW---that the creature...your prey...is hidden deep within the trees. And so you wait, crouching up in the tall branches, eyes not blinking.

You miss nothing---sounds, smells, sights. You see all and let nothing go by you.

A crack. What was that? you wonder. It sounds...familiar. Could it be he? Has he finally come? You pause, muscles quivering with the strain of keeping yourself still. It's so very hard. You want to pounce, you want to hunt, you _want_ to become one with the night. But you still remain still. Still as Death.

Your black velvet blends into the darkness. No one, no matter how sharp their sight, can see you. And you know that. You rejoice in it. There---the sound again. It's closer than last time. It sounds as if something large... Something slow-moving... Something _tasty_... Is moving through the brush. Is it he? You think it is...

Your pupils narrow in readiness and your muscles quiver---not with strain this time. But still, you restrain yourself. What good was a hunt without the anticipation, the readiness, the cunning and planning of battle. Battle? No battle; at least, not really. More of a... More of a hunt, really.

You laugh softly and it comes out as a vibrating growl.

Another growl---this time, not from your throat. The hunger pains start again. But you wait. Not yet... Not yet... You must wait. Just a little bit longer. A little bit longer? You can barely wait now. But still... Wait. Just wait.

Another rustle. Is it almost time? you ask yourself. Now? Is now the time? Is it almost time? When? _When?_ It's becoming harder and harder to wait. Your whole entire body quivers with the need to hunt and the restraint that you hold yourself back.

Now? Wait---it's moving again. A stumble in the darkness; the creature fell over a root. Now? Is it time yet? Now? Now? _Now?_ You crouch closer to the tree limb, kneading the wood with your claws. It's getting harder and harder to wait. Not much longer now. No, not much longer now. Look, it's rising slowly. Ever so slowly. It's hurt. How hurt?

Wait---

Wait---

Wait---

NOW!!!

Muscles bunch under you and you finally jump. Adrenaline rushes through you and you roar your delight. You're finally hunting; you're finally letting lose muscles long dormant; you're finally going to feel warm blood rush in your mouth. You've missed that coppery, tangy taste. Oh, how you've missed it.

Your prey quickly stands up the rest of the way, screaming its terror. You join your own cry. Let it feel your power! Let it feel your might! It feels so...wonderful. So very, very wonderful. How free! How great! You're...hungry...

Then, you finally see _what_ your prey is. The terror in its eyes, the frightened, hunted look. You pause and stare up at your prey, your own eyes wide. How...how could it be? No... Oh, God, no... Slowly, ever so slowly, you start to back away. You almost... You almost... No, you MUST NOT THINK OF IT.

Your prey stares at you, terrified. Your prey is...you.

~*~

You sit up in bed, gasping for breath. Blinking, you slowly look around your room. _Your room._ It was a dream, only a dream. Nothing more. Look---there is your stuffed animal that you got on Valentine's Day. Your posters on the wall. Your CDS next to your stereo.

You're alright. There's nothing wrong. Everything is fine. You're safe. You're in your bed, in your house, nowhere near a forest. It was all just a...nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare. You giggle a bit, relieved. Your hand reaches up, intending to wipe away the fear-sweat from your forehead.

There's fur on your hand. It's black, with darker rosettes. Your dream. Just like in your dream. It's wasn't JUST a dream. It isn't over. It's NOT OVER. It's NEVER OVER. As you stare, claws reach out of their sheaths, sparkling like knives in the darkness of your room. It couldn't be. It just...couldn't.

A scream, half-animal, half-human, punctures the night.