[For context, this is in a place that has people in different sizes and animal traits. They are NOT meant to anthropomorphic animals, instead meant to be HUMANS with ANIMAL TRAITS.]
• • •
Lop was not in pain.
Lop was not dying.
The thick red stuff dripping out of his leg was not his blood.
He coughed, ears flicking back. He held back a growl of pain, hands clenched, claws digging into skin.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
If only he hadn't approached those monstrous beasts, with their guns and knives and other dangerous weapons.
He whimpered, as a gust of air blew past him, making his leg throb. His head spun. No more easy game in the forest. All because of those beasts.
He was going to starve...
Panting, Lop picked up his limping gait, stumbling over fallen trees and mounds of dirt, not graceful or silent at all.
What sort of predator hybrid was he!?
Remember the lessons...
Be silent. Be deadly. Be quick. Be strong.
Be silent... deadly... Be... quick... death...
He reached the cave mouth, frantically inhaling the comforting scent of home... which was getting tainted with the coppery smell of blood.
He was in pain.
He was dying.
His blood was running down his leg, picking up speed every second.
Lop's eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell to the ground, slumped over, tears just beginning to fall out of his glazing eyes.
Be... quick... strong...
• • •
Hatchel darted through the underbrush, heart pounding. He let out a nervous squeak when a shadow passed over his head.
"Come out, little mouse..." A voice crowed, far above him. "You can't run forever."
Hatchel panted heavily, eyes glancing this way and that. He scanned the sky occasionally, as the near-silent wingbeats of a crow hybrid echoed through the quiet forest.
Tree, bush tree, bush, bush, tree, shrub...
Cave!
Hatchel reacted instantaneously, streaking forward, falling into all fours and tearing through the fallen sticks.
He felt a dreadful tingle on his nape, and he shrieked in fear as a shadow fell over him. He leaned forward, and felt something woosh behind his back.
He kept on fleeing, running and running, as the crow continued to dive, claws outstretched.
"You'll tire out eventually," The crow cooed, as it wheel around once more, "And it won't be difficult to just... snatch you up."
Hatchel released a terrified cry, and dove forward. His nose sensed a different territory, now. Maybe a squirrel's?
"Oh, you're dead now," The crow jeered, as if reading Hatchel's poor, frazzled mind. "That's a wolf's territory! Those mindless beasts will rip you apart quickly... you might as well just come back here."
