Chapter 8: Hunt
The deeper the boy ventured into the forest, the thicker the canopy became. The air was cooler here, the towering trees blocking out much of the sunlight, leaving the forest floor in a perpetual state of twilight. He could hear the faint rustling of leaves above, the occasional snap of a branch in the distance, and the gentle trickle of a stream nearby. But beyond that, it was silent.
His stomach growled again, a sharp reminder of how long it had been since he'd last eaten. Days, maybe. He wasn't sure anymore. The hunger gnawed at him, a constant distraction, making it harder to focus on the thing that mattered most: his powers.
He stopped beside a fallen tree, its trunk covered in moss. His breaths came out in shallow pants as he dropped to his knees. He couldn't go on like this—hungry, weak, and confused about the virus raging inside him. Every time he tried to summon it, to control even a sliver of it, it either ignored him or reacted violently.
He clenched his fists, staring down at his hands. They looked normal now, just pale and dirty. But he knew what they could become—what they had become when he lost control.
"I can't keep living like this," he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse. "I have to learn how to control it. I have to."
Closing his eyes, he focused on the sensation he had felt in the nightmare, that twisted feeling of the virus moving beneath his skin. He needed to grasp that again, to pull it up on his terms. His breath slowed as he concentrated, willing the power to emerge, but not overwhelm him.
For a moment, there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of the forest around him.
Then, a spark. It started in his chest—a warm, pulsing energy that spread through his veins, coiling like a snake, slithering up his arms. He could feel it—the virus—reacting to his call, starting to respond. He gritted his teeth, trying to direct it, to keep it from spiraling out of control like it had before.
"I've got this… I can do this…"
But the warmth turned cold, the tendrils slipping out of his control again. His fingers twitched, the biomass starting to bubble beneath his skin, warping his hands.
"No… no, not again," he hissed, eyes snapping open as he tried to pull the virus back. But it surged against him, black tendrils snaking out from his palms, spreading rapidly up his arms. He could feel the power twisting his flesh, reshaping his bones into something monstrous.
Panic rose in his throat. He slammed his hands into the ground, trying to ground himself, trying to stop it. "Stop! Arrgh Come on, just once!"
The virus lashed out, and with a sickening crack, the moss-covered log shattered beneath his grip, splintering into pieces. He stared at his hands, now morphed into grotesque claws, the black tendrils writhing around them like living things.
"Shit…" he whispered, his voice trembling. "I can't—"
Suddenly, a sound. A rustle. He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Slowly, he turned his head toward the source of the noise.
There, standing in a small clearing just ahead, was a doe. Its large, dark eyes blinked at him, its ears twitching as it sniffed the air cautiously. It was beautiful—its coat a soft brown, blending in with the surrounding trees, its body lean and graceful. It hadn't seen him yet, but it was aware something was nearby.
The boy's breath hitched as his eyes locked on the doe, its graceful body standing still in the clearing, oblivious to the danger lurking nearby. His stomach clenched again, the hunger sharper than before, his muscles twitching with the virus still pulsing beneath his skin.
His hands flexed, the tendrils coiling around his wrists like a snake ready to strike. He had no time to think about control—he had to act, and fast. If he hesitated, if he let it slip away, he'd be left starving in this endless forest.
Without warning, the virus surged through his legs, coiling around his heels and tightening, amplifying his strength. His feet dug into the dirt beneath him, cracking the ground as he leaped forward.
'Too fast'.
His body soared through the air, his eyes wide as the force of his jump nearly knocked him off balance. He twisted mid-air, the trees rushing past him in a blur as he latched onto the trunk of a nearby tree, claws digging deep into the bark.
'Control it. Ihave to control it' the boy thought.
The doe's head snapped up, sensing his approach, and bolted, its slender legs a blur as it darted through the trees. The boy snarled, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he pushed off from the tree with a violent kick, launching himself forward again. The ground cracked beneath him as he landed, but he didn't stop, his heels now fully wrapped in the virus, enhancing every movement, every step.
He sprinted after the doe, his legs moving faster than he could've imagined, the trees a blur as he jumped from one to the next, his feet barely touching the ground before launching him into the air again. His heart pounded in his chest, blood rushing in his ears as he closed the distance between him and the doe.
But the virus wasn't staying still.
The tendrils twisted up his calves, tightening around his legs like shackles, threatening to pull him off balance. He clenched his teeth, forcing his focus forward. He had to keep the virus in check, had to stop it from consuming him like it had before. But the hunger, the primal urge to hunt, pushed him forward, overriding his doubts.
He leaped again, this time aiming for a branch high above the ground. His claws latched onto it, splintering the wood as his momentum nearly tore it from the tree. The doe was just ahead, its lean body zigzagging between the trees, trying to shake him. But it wasn't fast enough.
The boy growled low in his throat, the virus now spreading up to his shoulders, his muscles bulging under its influence. He kicked off from the branch, sending himself hurtling forward like a missile, the ground cracking beneath him as he landed just a few meters behind the doe.
He could feel it—the virus was slipping from his control, pushing him to move faster, to hit harder. His legs throbbed with the unnatural strength coursing through them, the tendrils wrapping tighter and tighter.
The doe veered sharply to the right, but the boy was faster. He threw himself to the side, his feet barely touching the ground before launching him again. He could feel the wind whipping against his face, his body moving too fast for his mind to fully process.
The virus pulsed with every heartbeat, urging him on, feeding his speed and power. But he was losing control, and he knew it. His body wasn't his own anymore, each movement sharper, more violent than the last.
But there was no time to slow down. The doe was just within reach.
With a snarl, he pushed off from the ground one last time, the virus coiling around his legs, propelling him forward like a coiled spring. He slammed into the doe's side, the impact sending them both crashing to the ground in a flurry of limbs and dirt.
The doe struggled beneath him, its legs kicking wildly as it tried to throw him off. But the boy's grip was iron, his claws digging deep into its flesh. The virus surged, tendrils lashing out from his arms, wrapping around the doe's throat.
He gritted his teeth, trying to pull the virus back, but the hunger gnawed at him, overriding everything else. The tendrils tightened, squeezing the life out of the animal as it thrashed weakly beneath him. He could feel the bones cracking, the doe's struggles growing weaker and weaker.
With one final, desperate cry, the doe went limp.
The boy panted, his chest heaving as he stared down at the lifeless creature beneath him. His hands, still warped and dripping with the virus, twitched involuntarily, the black tendrils slowly retracting back into his skin. The adrenaline still surged through him, his muscles trembling with the aftershock of the hunt.
He sat there for a long moment, the only sound his ragged breathing and the wind rustling the leaves above him.
He had done it. He had caught it. But the way he had done it—the speed, the power—it wasn't his. It was the virus. And he had come so close to losing control again.
His stomach growled loudly, breaking the silence. Slowly, he rose to his feet, staring down at the doe's body.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. "But I need this."
His hands were normal again, but they were stained with blood.
The boy stood over the kill, the weight of his victory sitting heavy in his chest.
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Ramon69
Ramon69 The Hunt, baby.Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!Like it ? Add to library!Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
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