The fox trotted through the brush with the wary confidence of a small but agile mesopredator. The soft morning light glowed from between the trees in pretty strands, and the animal's breath came in soft puffs, taking in the various scents swirling invisibly through the air.
The forest was already awake, but, thankfully, still groggy and slow. Hopefully, this made the hunt easy.
Hunger nudged at the fox's ribs. It wasn't a desperate hunger, just... insistent. The world had, thankfully, changed. It was no longer the harrowing season of winter, and so the fox wasn't quite starved.
Wait.
Damp bark, cold stone, grass, a distant trickle of water—there! The faint but sharp, recognizable warm perfume of a... rabbit!
The fox moved.
Its steps were quiet as it glided through the forest, weaving through bushes and fallen branches. The trees opened up ahead, and there carried the rabbit's scent, growing heavier with each breath. The fox slowed when it reached the clearing, lowering itself into the grass.
There, a rabbit—not too fat, but not too small either—was nibbling at the stem of a clover.
The fox waited. Its tail hung still and its heart beat with a slowly growing momentum. Once, then twice, then three times.
The rabbit turned. Its eyes went wide, and the fox sprang.
And missed.
It lost its chance at an easy meal, and regretfully broke into a chase. Branches scraped past, dirt kicking up from beneath its paws as it ran through the trees. The rabbit darted wildly, zigzagging around and through roots and rocks.
But the fox stayed on its trail, each bound closing the gap by a few inches. And the clever fox knew it had won.
With a simple burst of speed, it leaped, pouncing on the simple rabbit. It pinned the frantically kicking animal to the ground which trembled under its paws. The fox bent its head, jaws slowly parting, almost sensually, taking in the scent of its kill.
The teeth closed around the soft fur of the rabbit's neck, causing the small animal to twitch silently. Warmth filled the fox's mouth. It was thick and metallic... it was blood.
A shiver rippled through its body—no, through his body.
The forest shimmered for a moment, but he didn't take any notice. That is, until he saw the figure of a towering man looming above him.
'Alwyn? Why's he looking at me like that? Wait... who's Alwyn?'
Linnie blinked hard, his breath sharp and confused. The paws holding the rabbit weren't paws at all, and the furry body he thought he had was, in fact, bare beneath the clothes that covered it.
He was kneeling in the dirt, hands clenched around the rabbit's limp body. Blood soaked his fingers, warm and sticky, and the dull ache in his jaw remained from biting down with all of his strength.
The rabbit slid from his maw's grip and thudded softly against the ground.
Linnie stared, panting, as the forest around him became familiar again. And the man standing there, too, became familiar. It was the wizard, Alwyn, his teacher and 'guardian.' Except, the expression on the man's face wasn't that of warm 'guardianship,' but more resembled disgust.
That is, until he let out a sharp, fake, cough. His face returned to a neutral, curious expression. Linnie, for some reason, felt extremely uneasy.
'What... did I do? I wasn't dreaming, was I? I couldn't have been... dreaming requires falling asleep in the first place, after all. And why am I so damn hungry?'
The boy glanced down at the rabbit, limp and unmoving, and a wave of desire swept over him. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from drooling at the sight.
In fact, he had to stop himself from the sudden urge to tear up, as well. He was filled with a deep, suppressed rage. Rage at the fact that his meal had been interrupted, but also rage at the fact that... he had accidentally fallen into old habits.
It had been so long since he so gruesomely treated an animal in such a way. This was, out of all things the boy did, the only thing he was absolutely ashamed of. And he had promised never to do anything like it again, starting when he'd been picked up by the wizard.
It was a heavy feeling of embarrassment within his very soul. Even before the people of his hometown had chastised him for the feral behavior, he had shamed himself for his feral desires.
Rightfully so, if I may add.
No good—no lovable—human sinks their teeth into cute little animals without remorse. Especially when they have a perfectly fine source of food being roasted over a campfire by their friends.
"Ahem, uh, why are you... why did you kill that rabbit?" Alwyn asked with surprising tact.
It seemed as if he didn't really know what to think of what he was seeing. It was quite bizarre, to be fair. His thoughts would depend on how Linnie answered this simple question.
"I was hungry."
...
It was the wrong answer, to say the least—there was so much food at camp, food that was much tastier than this rabbit.
"So you killed a rabbit? And by biting it with your teeth, no less... interesting."
'Is he being condescending right now? Well, who the hell is he to judge!?'
"Yeah, that's what I did. Y-you've got a problem with it?"
'Dammit. Why'd I stutter!? Now I look like an idiot!'
His speech was fast and lacked confidence, making it sound like he was scared or nervous. Which he was. The last thing the boy wanted was to be kicked away by Alwyn and the others, the same way it had always happened with anyone else that saw his 'nature' first-hand.
And, Linnie was unaware of something quite concerning, as well. Alwyn had already long been suspicious of the boy's actions.
Not in any dangerous way. It's not like Linnie actually had anything so terrible to hide. Not really. But Alwyn had already suspected, since the very first time they had met, that something was different about him.
Many times since they'd started traveling together, he had noted that the boy, in a few aspects, severely lacked a conscience. Not in a psychopathic way—well, not that there's any real difference—but in an almost inhuman way.
But the wizard had ignored it. The fact was, he cared very little about the truth behind his apprentice. Inhuman or not, wasn't he the same man who promised to make a Siaryn, an actual monster, into a wizard?
It was only that, the girl was a known, recognizable... 'threat'? Linnie, on the other hand, was completely mysterious. Alwyn theorized what his true nature could be many times, always coming to the extremely vague conclusion that he simply wasn't normal.
But, physically, there was nothing out of place. Nothing Alwyn could place.
And so, he let it be. There wasn't much harm in an unruly, eccentric wizard. Most of them were like that in the first place. Still, it ate away at him, in the back of his mind. A curiosity.
'What the hell is he?'
Noticing Linnie's strained expression as a response to his prolonged silence, he simply patted the boy's head with a warm smile.
"Don't worry, I won't tell the others. We've all got secrets. But... don't do this again, okay? It's seriously freaky!" he said, doing his best impression of a laugh.
His impression was pretty damn good, too. Too good for Linnie to discern from a real, genuine one.
'Fucking hell, hopefully this isn't the wrong decision,' the wizard thought.
Because, in that moment, Alwyn had decided between two options: reassuring the boy and sending him off, or killing him right there.