There was something just so intoxicating about the scent of fear that was enough to drive any creature to pursue a victim. It was an enticing bouquet of adrenaline and pheromones that caused one to salivate in anticipation of the kill to come. One could easily lose themselves in such a heady odor. Zar'roc was not one of those weak willed creatures though. The stallion strode forward on massive paws that cracked every twig he came across deliberately. What was the point of treading silently if you knew that your prey was doomed? The snapping noises persisted as Zar'roc continued forward. Each snap causing a spike in the level of fear that his prey was experiencing and with each spike another flood of fear scent that the stallion inhaled deeply of savoring the terror that he could literally taste on the tip of his tongue.
Soon.
Soon he would come across his victim. There was a method to his madness of guiding his prey into dead end locations where to escape they would need to try and pass him unseen. Many had yet to learn that lesson and perfect that technique. It was Zar'roc's favorite and ideal way to hunt his prey. Not many had been able to escape his death marches as he liked to call them. Oh there was the odd lucky individual that managed to find a way out but for the most part the purewalker had perfected this fun style of hunting. What was more enjoyable than knowing that your prey was certainly doomed from the get-go?
Zar’roc let his ears p***k forward in anticipation of rounding the corner to find his chosen victim. He could hear his prey already trying to scramble up the loose shale on the slope beyond the foliage. The prey should not have gone up that route. The rocks were very unstable as Zar’roc knew. He had tested them out in his feral form in order to determine whether or not something could get away. Waiting just out of sight Zar’roc paused thoughtfully. His ears swiveled briefly before catching what sounded like a miniature rock slide and an agonized cry. Strolling forward the purewalker surveyed the scene like a connoisseur. His prey lay straight before him. The stallion was trying to get to his feet and failing. Tumbling down the slope had the unfortunate result of Zar’roc’s chosen victim having his legs torn up in the process. Zar’roc smiled wickedly as he took in the sight of the now infirm Soquili. His form blurred into that of the wolf as he charged forward intent on keeping the stallion from rising ever again. What seemed like minutes later Zar'roc's sides heaved with the effort that he had expended in the final fight. But he had come out victorious. Although there was a nasty wound from where he'd been bitten on his leg. He shook off the pain and settled in to enjoy his meal and then after that his ritual.
