To Those Who Would Hunt
My bloodied paws claw across the ground of the forest, the cold red moon’s light filtering through the leaves and barely revealing the way forward. I can still hear them, those who would nail me to the ground, pierce through my heart and extinguish the bright flame of my life; the hunters. My right side burns with each breath and I stop for a moment to lick the wound clean and rest, waiting to see if the hunters are still on my trail.
I have hope for a time as the sounds of the hunter’s seem to draw no closer, then the bloodhounds howl and they find my scent once more. I launch myself along the darkening undergrowth; running as if my body weighed no more than a shadow, fuelled by anger at the hunters and at my futile inability to prevent my own end. I run, and it seems it is the forest that races past me, I remaining where I was. My anger flares, thinking of the way these hunters tricked me, poisoning my water with some potent potion, thinking to have themselves an easy kill to brag of.
The scent of water hangs upon the air and I let my keen nose guide me towards a river, I leap into it, seeing a reflection of a white wolf before I break the water; my own reflection. I move downstream, trying to break both my trail and my scent, and I leave the frigid water cold as snow, but it only numbs my pain and sharpens my thoughts. In the back of my mind I know the river will only slow them down, not stop them, and so I continue moving. I feel adrenaline surging through my veins, urging me to greater speed, heightening my already sharp senses. I slip like wind through the shadowed night, and run into the meter-high mouth of a tunnel like a gash upon the earth, still seeking to lose my ever-present pursuers.
The claustrophobic tunnel branches and I choose the path leading up, moving along the uneven earth floor, weaving around ugly pillars of stone. I emerge from the tunnel and I know something is wrong. My eyes dart around, yet there is nothing wrong I can sense, nothing but the hunters behind. I stand still a moment before moving on, my sense of unease growing with every step. Wary now, I smell a hint of something upon the air, something that smells like danger itself: smoke. I realize I’ve been moving towards fire all this time and what remnants of hope left in me turn to ashes.
I cannot return the way I came, so I have no choice but to believe the fire is yet small, contained, and to continue on. I lope forwards, harried by the sounds of pursuit, dread growing in me, gorging on my dark imaginings, weighing me down with it’s loathsome taste. The hunters are closing now and moving forwards I burst forth from the forest and into a clearing, where not twenty meters distance a forest fire in full blaze is raging, threatening to consume all in it’s path with it’s terrifying force. I look behind me and catch a glimpse of an armoured man carrying a spear; and I know no choice but to back towards the fire.
The hunters close in; they know they have me caught between a hammer and an anvil. I am as close to the brilliant wall of flame as I dare go, and I try to keep my fangs between the hunters and myself, but they spread in a semi-circle around me. Despair almost overwhelms me, but anger burns yet brighter, anger at their deceit and betrayal, anger at my weakness, a torrent of hatred for this despicable end, and the passion that fuels it all, the energy of my emotion, begins to rip apart the weakening spell-threads of the potion.
The magic unravels around me, and my body returns to that of a man, and more than a man, a sorcerer, a being of power. I flick aside the last shreds of the spell and turn to the hunters. I can see the exhilaration, greed and rush of victory fade from their eyes, replaced by fear. One throws his spear at me; the spear shrivels into nothingness in the air before me, destroyed by the waves of power emanating from me, power that is the only outlet for my emotion. I break the hunters, shredding the shallow threads of their lives apart, rending their bodies into uncountable bloody specks, revelling in the revenge.
Later, when the fire without and the fire within have burnt themselves out, I let myself feel some pity for my torturers, before returning into the shadows.
Hopefully you should win the contest with this piece 
