//// TW for Gore throughout this entire one shot ////


She never felt so hungry for struggle. For blood. She would not call it murder. But feasting. Dante was not an option for now. Even though he was, in her eyes (probably in the eyes of some others, as well), a traitor, she wasn't in the position to make the call. Make it justified. Same with Jormungand. He also had kids, and she was starting to befriend the one, Hydrostatic. She couldn't risk it.

So the neutral grounds was a thing. Her body was a beacon in the dense forest she found herself in for hunting. Hunting. Something made her sway. Stagger. Lurch forward. Jaws parted and tongue flopped out between incisors. Drool dripped onto the dirt beneath her, breath leaving her in hot pants. Yes. Hunting. And the scent that was alluring her forward was absolutely lovely.

She found herself fumbling into a camp, small and insignificant. The leopard that she found herself face to face with yowled in anger. Slowly, the anger turned into fear as Kold simply stared and smiled. This was a hunt. She watched as the leopard backed further and further away, mumbling words that sounded muffled in her ears. Her lips curled around her teeth in a snarl and she lunged.

She wanted a fight - and she got it as soon as she landed on the Leopard's shoulder, tearing a chunk and forcing the duo to tumble around. But she stood as the leopard scratched at her face, ripping flesh and tearing fur away. It only made her laugh. And as the leopard tore into her neck, trying to tear into her jugular, she simply turned a certain way and bit down on their paw, breaking it. The screech was music to her ears.

She tore and ripped at their leg, relishing the blood spill in her mouth. The more they struggled the more she tore, until finally she crunched at their elbow and ripped their entire leg off. She laughed as they scrabbled away with pleas and begs, her laugh carrying into the air.

She pressed her paw against their chest, putting all of her weight onto them, placing another paw on. She forced the air to grow cold as her paws heated, flames igniting. As they writhed, she pressed her paws deeper into their flesh, satisfied with the cracking of bones. And then she made one final push, hearing the wet squish as her paws hit organs.

She watched as the life left their eyes, stepping back to admire her work. Her smile was wicked and her eyes had shone with some red. Scratch marks across her face was sure to leave scars, as was the wound on her neck. But no matter. This helped her. Eased her hunger.