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I want to procure clothing for her so that I won’t have to look upon her bare flesh anymore.
“I will return,” I say suddenly.
I don’t utter the threat to her life that I mentally wish upon her. I don’t take this opportunity to dig my claw in deeper, penetrating her outer shell to at last break into her and eat her innards.
I instead lift up off the cavern floor, flying up through the interior of the cave system, into the entrance, where the orc heads are untouched. As I soar upward, leaving her on the cavern floor with a gaping shoulder wound, her confusion is readily apparent.
Finding a set of clothing left intact from my victims is challenging, but I do find suitable elf clothing that looks like it might suit her, except that it belongs to a male rather than a female. I am able to see that the wilderness outside is quiet and that if the dark elves are still seeking her, their efforts have not yet returned to this part of the forest.
Soaring back downward through the cave, I find her untouched, gathering a handful of water from the spring.
“Put this on,” I urge her.
She looks at the clothing in my claws, which I lay before her now.
“I’m not wearing that,” she insists, looking at the garb in disgust and horror. “It’s covered in blood.”
“Put it on!” I roar.
She reaches for it hesitantly, far too slow for my liking.
Seeing her continued disgust, rather than gratitude, I grab the clothing and violently shake it off in the spring, releasing some of the blood and viscera from its fibers.
“Satisfied?” I ask, handing the damp clothing to her before noticing the shackles on her ankles and wrists.
Before she can take the clothing and put it on, I knock her back to the ground. She winces uncomfortably as I pull my claws back, jabbing them with all of my strength into the shackles that continue to restrict her movement.
They stop blood flow to the extremities, I reason.If I leave them on, her taste will be ruined.
The metal buckles under my force, splitting at the point of impact. I dexterously avoid her major arteries as well. That would surely spoil my meal for later.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks me seriously.
“Consider it pampering you for later,” I reply, still pinning her to the ground. “I don’t want your neglect to ruin my meal.”
Gazing down upon her, from her heaving chest to her deep, inquisitive stare, I wonder if I’m speaking the truth to her or if I’m merely deceiving myself. I don’t understand what accursed limitation was placed on my body that prevents me from fulfilling my one purpose – to hunt.
I pound the ground beneath me one more time, cracking the rock below, then baring my fangs fully and letting my saliva drip onto her shoulder. This disrupts the comfort that she seems to suddenly be taking in me. Her boldness will no longer be tolerated.
I lift my body up from the cavern floor, turning my back to her.
“Put on your clothing,” I command. “Before I drown you in the spring.”
She sighs.
“Done with the pretense of ‘devouring’ me now, are we?” she asks. “Not afraid to ruin your meat with a little moisture?”
“I won’t ask you twice,” I tell her. “Even if I don’t kill you, there are creatures in here that would do so much worse things to you than consume you. I sure would hate to feed you to them.”
I feel betrayed by my own words. The thought of relinquishing her to another creature, to do with as they please, actually unsettles me, and I think it has become more than the idea of missing out on a delicious meal.
The concept of keeping her in this cavern forever, away from all the other monsters and beings of the world, gives me a feeling I only get from ripping into my most challenging prey.
Happiness.
“Were they looking for me up there?” she asks me casually. I can hear her squishing into the damp clothing, and I am grateful that little bit of confusion has been rectified.
But I have accepted my curiosity and will not do without an answer to my most pressing question.
