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Hunger and Frustration
It had been a cold night and the dew laden grass was slowly soaking Kaerrah's underside as she crouched low in the shrubs. In some distant corner of her mind a Horned-One wanted to shiver as the chill crept into her, but she felt no such urge. All she really felt right now was hunger, an unfortunate state for the Pink-Skin not ten strides from her. Actually, hunger and frustration. Frustration because all stupid Pink-Skins look the same. This one, with puffy hair and long pointed ears stalked with an assured arrogance- unaware of his impending destruction. Unfortunately, this no more distinguished him from her 'allies' than the blood red armor or the blade strapped to his back. Kaerrah shook her head slightly. The concept of some Two-Legs being fair game and others not was increasingly foreign to her. Yet, the shivering Horned-One in her skull screamed at her when she strayed from it.

The distant roar of an explosion ruined the moment as her frustrating prey sprinted up and over the hill. Padding carefully through the foliage Kaerrah followed the growing sound of battle. As she crested the hill any doubts of the Pink-Skin's status in her world dissolved. The valley below was littered with broken bodies and patches of scorched ground. At the center of it all a Pink-Skin and a Rotted-One trade blistering fireballs, the Rotted-One's garb was singed and dirty- but the tabard on its back was easily recognizable. Locked in battle the Rotted-One seemed unaware of the armored Pink-Skin charging down the slope with sword in hand. Breaking from the foliage with a throaty growl Kaerrah sprinted down the hill. In no more than three long strides she had overtaken her prey, the Pink-Skin screaming as her claws found soft flesh between plates of armor. He tried to spin to face her, but her momentum carried him to the ground. The wind knocked from him, the Pink-Skin made no attempt to stop her teeth from finding his throat. He screamed again, a futile desperate scream that petered off into a gurgling gasp. She sated her hunger quickly before looking to the battle. The Rotted-One was gingerly applying a salve to burns on its shoulder, its foe reduced to a smoldering oily smear on the ground. It eyed her slowly and then made a stiff bow.

"We are Verruckter of the Forsaken and you have our gratitude." Shaking the blood from her maw she nodded hesitantly. The Horned-One in the back of her skull, seemingly perplexed by something in its words, did not try to wrest control from her as it often did when she was spoken to by a Two-Legs. It approached her and she tensed. It paused and eyed her again. "We will leave you be should you desire it, but there are many of these mana leaching swine about. Our work would go faster if you hunted with us." Stomach sated, her blood sang with the thrill of the hunt none the less. She nodded her consent and the two headed deeper into the valley. At the very least, the Rotted-One would make fine bait.

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