The Writers' Circle

She wasn't sure if it was the smell or the sound.  Something was behind her and whatever it was meant to do her wrong.  Ivory dress catching at the knees, heels digging into the forest floor, she ran.  Brambles and leaves caught in her hair, slowing her progress with each painful tug.  Her own heavy breathing was almost drowned out by the sound of thumping and grunting behind her.  Whatever was in pursuit was big and obnoxious.
	
Suddenly she felt the earth move beneath her, dress shearing from her body, shoes left behind, in a blink of an eye she was no longer herself.  Speed was her ally, size undistinguishable from where she saw the world.  She knew she was lower to the ground than she'd been before, yet did not know how far.
	
The sounds behind her no longer sounded malicious and predatory, and she no longer felt fear.  Instead, the smell of the beast was incredibly tantalizing.  Skidding to a stop, she tucked behind the closest tree and waited to see what came around that last corner.  Blood pumping furiously in anticipation, she crouched in wait.
	
Finally a fat pig covered in hair with an odd horn coming from each side of its face darted around the bend, stopping dead in a small clearing approximately six feet from where she hid.  It was the first time she'd seen a boar outside of a book, and never in a million years did she ever think she would see one now.
	
Instead of simple curiosity or even healthy fear, all she felt was hunger.  The boar's red eyes darted about, knowing something was different yet not able to identify what it was.  The entire scene had a medieval feel to it.

Now! She was the boar look back the way they'd come, and took her opportunity to lunge.  Her teeth plunged easily and deeply into the jugular artery of the beast's neck, making its transformation from life into death a quick, painless one.  Its blood, hot and fresh, drenched her thirsty throat, making her muscles tremble and her throat rumble.  She suddenly realized she was purring.  Not just feeling content because she'd bested her enemy, but actually purring like a cat.
	
She began tearing meat from her kill, focusing on the fatty and tender spots, ignoring anything that might get caught in her throat.  Every so often she would take a break from chewing with razor sharp teeth to lap up some pooled blood to cleanse her palate before carrying on.  She didn't look up from the boar until she'd picked it clean of all possible food and left the carcass for scavengers to pick apart when she left.  Walking a few feet away, she lay in the fragrant clearing, using her tongue to clean what appeared to be large brown paws with razor sharp claws.
	
All normal forest noises had once again resumed, birds calling to each other, night creatures scuttling from place to place.  At the sound of an owl, Midnight's head jumped from where it had been lying on her folded arms, and she stood up, looking about herself.  A dead animal was a couple of feet from her, and her clothes were across the clearing, lying limp and ruined in the dirt.  Looking down at herself, she modestly attempted  to cover herself and skittered around the dead animal and grabbed her dress, putting it on as best she could, considering the state it was in.  She knew she would have to hide when she went in the door at home, and wasn't looking forward to getting by Mary Anne.
	
Her shoes were completely missing, and so was her boyfriend.  She didn't remember leaving him behind anywhere, yet here she was - alone with a dead animal and no shoes.  She let out a breath as she was about to start toward home, then froze.  She'd been drinking at a party that night, yet she couldn't remember drinking anything salty.  Her breath was rancid with some sort of coppery, salty taste that seemed to flood her and make her gag.  Looking down, thinking she was about to throw up, she saw all the blood around the dead animal.  Relaxing, she decided the taste and smell was coming from close proximity to animal blood as opposed to something she'd consumed.
	
Once in her own room, she dropped her ruined dress on the floor beside her bed and dropped like a stone, asleep before hitting the pillow.