In tracking down Megan and Nicholas, the Hunter runs into a bit more than he can handle.
Even after dark, this one would not pass for human. Its skin was dried and torn from many years of existence. Its teeth, most prominently its fangs, had grown to lengths that prevented both speech and closing its mouth. A leathery, translucent skin joined the bottom of its arms to the sides of its body. They appeared to be ribbed, and reminded the hunter of the first night that he’d seen the pretentious redheaded one. The caretaker’s eyes were all pupil, seemingly black. It snarled at him, a frightening and unsettling sound, but the hunter stood firm. He would not become prey, even to one as old as this.
The beast became silent for a moment. It was sizing him up and deciding his worth. If it saw him as a threat, it would attack, and the hunter would most likely perish in the service of the Almighty. If it did not, the insult would sting, but the hunter would be free to resume tracking his prey.
