Vyrliix the Stalker - Part 1

The scent was still fresh. In fact, probably not more than an hour old. Vyrliix examined the tracks before taking another sniff to memorize the scent and attempt to distinguish the rider from the mount. Based on the tracks the horse was moving at a leisurely pace. Finally satisfied, Vyrliix moved down the trail at a trot.

Every couple hundred yards Vyrliix stopped to verify the scent, direction of the wind and listen for the sounds of his quarry on the path ahead.

Yes, he was definitely closing the gap. Vyrliix aimed a baleful eye at the yellow globe overhead. Another couple of hours and his nemesis would be gone and he could move about more comfortably in the welcome darkness. In the meantime, the closeness of his quarry helped take his mind off the burning brought on by the sunlight.

After another couple of miles a lone rider on a black horse could be seen ahead. Vyrliix hung back, staying out of sight and downwind. At nightfall his quarry stopped by a small brook and began to make camp.

The scent was so strong now that it took all of his waning willpower to keep from rushing in immediately. But he had been warned about this one. Although he doubted that such a frail little one as this scrawny human could cause much trouble. He would bide his time and wait until darkness once again enveloped the world and he regained his strength.

Vyrliix found one of the large trees a distance from the camp from which he could watch without being seen. And also stay out of the burning sun. He watched as the female created a small fire and tended to her horse and gear. Soon the delightful smell of cooking flesh began to waft out from the camp and Vyrliix knew it was almost time. His growing strength helped to bolster his will.

He reminded himself of what he had been told. The woman's blood would strengthen him and give him new powers. He had also been warned about her power and strength. However ridiculous this might seem by looking at her, he would be patient and cautious.

He waitied until the horse was eatting a bag of oats, before sneaking to a position out of its view. Without smell or sight of him the horse could not warn the girl. Staying downwind and to the rear of his quarry he waited until she sat staring into the fire before choosing his line of attack.

Smooth ground without any twigs or leaves. Everything was perfect. Vyrliix started at a trot, quickly reaching top speed and launching into a leap some ten yards behind her seated form. With jaws wide, and claws out-stretched he would hit her two thirds of the way up her back. . . .

© 1998 John Eisinger. All rights reserved.