A low, deep growl emerged from my throat as I watched him. I could already taste him; his flesh in my mouth, his blood running down my throat, my teeth snapping his bones to pieces. I could tell that he knew I was there. He was frozen in his place. Sometimes, I wondered if he was even still breathing. It didn't look like it, but if he was, I would soon change that.
Moving extremely slowly, he turned slightly around. My growl grew into a snarl and eventually, as it got louder, it became a roar. He whipped fully around and his eyes were wide enough to roll out of their sockets. I stood from my crouched position. He backed up, then started to run. I gave him a little head start before bolting after him in hot pursuit. It was a short, easy chase.
With a murderous roar, I jumped onto his back. To my great amazement, he stayed standing, so I dug my knife-like claws into his shoulders. He screamed. An ear-splitting, blood-curdling scream. It pierced the otherwise silent night like my claws into his skin. Bearing my fangs, I injected them into the back of his throat. Blood sprayed me in the face as I ripped the skin off, exposing veins and muscle that I couldn't wait to devour in peace. I got a better grip on the middle of his neck and pulled my jaw up to the top of my mouth until I heard a crack. To him, it must have been sickening, but to me it was music. Just a beat in that beautiful song of death I had heard so many times.
Finally, he fell to the ground and managed to roll on his back after I let him go. He was still screaming. How, I didn't know, but his vocal cords were still functioning, one way or another. His blood melted the snow he now laid in, painting it red. I moved my face towards his, but he blocked me with his hands. He smeared his blood around my face. I pulled away slowly and he put his hands down. With a smug grin, I licked his blood off of my face. His eyes widened again and he continued to scream. He was too distracted by his shrieking and pain to realize that I had started moving in again.
My jaw locked onto one cheek and the top of my mouth came down onto the other. I was totally calm, although he kept on screaming. I brought my teeth together until I felt something shatter into little pieces. His jaw. The screams stopped. I grabbed his neck and tore out his Adam's Apple. Blood gushed out of the gaping hole that was now in the middle of his throat, courtesy of yours truly. I tore off his skin in ribbons, chewing every delectable strip, then dropping them in the snow to rot.
I lay down to savour my kill. It was the first warm meal I had eaten in a while. I left nothing behind but his eyes and brain for the buzzards. I looked myself over before I left. I might as well have been a red tiger, instead of orange, as the blood of the enemy now stained my coat. I dedicated my kill to all the tigers that had been killed by poachers all over the world. Damn poachers...
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