Content warning: blood mention

The moment my skin tore and blood oozed up within the cut, I knew you would hunt me.

How anyone could be expected not to bleed, I didn’t know. But our kin always told us, No blood outside. The hunter will come. Not in that joking way adults talked about monsters. But dead serious.

And yet, I bled. Outside.

But I would not just roll over. I left at once, squeezing more blood out on my journey. And more. Leaving a trail of blood drops away from my home.

When my wound scabbed over, I’d circle back.

I’d beat you.

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