A Gentleman is Simply a Patient Wolf [ONESHOT]

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In the dark of the forest, a beast was prowling.

He'd long caught scent of something utterly divine, and hunted it with vigour, lips smacking against the other as saliva bubbled in his throat. The demon hadn't thought that he'd find his meal on such a cold and desolate eve, but fate had rewarded him well, and he was thankful for the gift. The stench of fear reached his nose long before he even drew eyes upon his victim. He could taste the tang of their exertion carried on the wind's frosty air, and smelled the salt in their tears with flared nostrils. Whoever they were, they were running - and running fast. Chased, perhaps? Or driven by hysterics? Hard to tell, but it excited the demon either way.

A twig snapped nearby, cracking like a whip under the heel of someone's boot. His head snapped in the direction of the sound, scanning the surrounding area with eager and hungry eyes. Stumbling from between the trees, a human figure appeared in the glade, hands clutching at many layers of coloured fabric that skirted around their ankles - a female then; a girl.

Grin turning predatory, the demon leaned to observe the entire radius of the glade.

Like a newborn foal, the maiden tripped across rotting tree roots, head whipping in every conceivable direction as the oppressive shadows closed in on her. Harsh breaths escaped her lungs in harsh pants; the moisture evaporating within the cold night air. As she turned, her eyes drew upon the frozen brook nearby, at which point she threw her hands skyward and released a long and despairing cry. Clearly, the poor soul was lost, and seemed to be walking in circles.

As she stepped into the moonlight, the creature took in the girl's attire. She wore layers of loose skirts - none of which would actually succeed in keeping her warm, given that the gossamer was damp with snow and torn in more than one place. Peering closer, he could make out intricate lacy patterns detailing the bodice, which now had large gaping tears running through it. They were ruined, to say the least; salvageable perhaps, but it was impossible to restore the wispy garments to their former glory. Upon her back was a scarlet cloak, tied securely by a knot around her neck. The thing was slightly too large for her petite form, he noted (perhaps belonging to an older sibling or parent?). It dragged behind her every step; snagging on thorns and brambles, dirtying the hem and causing it to fray. The sweet thing looked incredibly worse for wear; disheveled and dirty like a common vagrant.

She paid her appearance no mind, however. Aimless as she was and blatantly unsure of which direction to go, the girl was hellbent on moving forward. Her determination was admirable, he would give her that. Sadly, in spite of her bravado, the demon knew she wouldn't last much longer in this cold. Already, her body was showing signs of fatigue and her pace had slowed significantly in the short time he'd been observing her. Sooner or later, she'd succumb to winter's kiss.

Perhaps, she'd pass peacefully; collapse with exhaustion and slowly freeze to death as she slumbered. Or perhaps she'd encounter one of the many beasts that lurked within the forest and be ruthlessly torn apart by the daggers that lined their voracious maw. Wolves, most likely. Now that would be a gruesome end. He'd seen their hunting methods many a time before, and was well familiarised with it. The chase - if there even was one - would be laughably short. The girl would be pinned within moments. They would rip at her stomach firstly, teeth shedding her of those pretty rags, digging deep within the remnants of their prey to unearth the organs and gulp them down. Then, they would feast on the softer areas of flesh - what remained of the abdomen, the breasts, the buttocks, and later, the limbs. If anything was left of her, it would be left behind to feed the vermin of this wood.