It was a dark night. The moon wasn’t shining bright. It was a summer night, all right. 

She walked by. Walked by, pretty little skip in her step. Her eyes glowed red. Scarlet red. So red, you could see it in the dark night, all right. 

She walked by. And he followed. Followed her quietly. Quietly in the deep, dark, night. He was trembling. With fear and with hunger. There was hunger in his eyes, in his soul, in his very being. 

She heard his breath. Shallow, ragged breath. She froze with fear. It was a predator, she knew. She knew it, for it had happened before. Before was not a long time ago. Before was just last week. 

He stopped to scratch his itching groin. He had not had a bath in weeks now. He longed for hot water on his head, penetrating his pores and cleaning them, scooping out the dirt. 

She wasn’t very brave but she still chose to walk home alone tonight. Tonight was dark though. You see, the moon wasn’t shining too bright. 

He shuffled up to her with surprising speed and so she trotted faster, clobbering up the route. This area was familiar, but the air was now musty with his stench. 

As he made his way to her, she galloped swiftly and hid into the woods. He followed the marks she made in the soil. 

He was hungry and he would have her, her flesh and her bones. She pressed herself deeper into the shadows and her foot crunching on dry leaves. 

He heard it. Heard it and ran. Ran to catch her, to attack her. She was cornered. No way to escape. 

And so she closed her eyes, hoping for a quick death. He held her by the neck and wrung it swiftly. Her wish had been answered. 

He picked her up, carried her on his back and walked towards his cave, relieved that his kids would have something to eat tonight.