The clang of metal. A breeze carrying the smell of sweat and blood and shit, mixing with and overcoming the natural scent of dirt and trees. The natural world did nothing to obfuscate the presence of Man, their clamor and jeers filling the once silent woods, claiming it for their own. Prey is ever comfortable in the midst of prey.

The creatures known as Man trotted about a clearing where once there was only nature, setting about the creation of their makeshift cloth caves. Four wore tough iron, the rest leather, but all carried a sword or dagger or bow. Hunters, maybe. Galal didn’t know. Galal didn’t care.

Humans meant food, but humans also meant danger, especially in number. Not easy prey to kill, no, but easy to steal from. At the center of their cloth village rested the smell of blood and meat, a carcass of elk. The third best meat in these woods.

Galal studied the encampment, the position of each person, where they were looking. How long they looked away from the center. It seemed like just enough, a small opportunity to enter unseen and leave just the same. He wasn’t one to deny opportunity. The men in tough iron were separated, focusing on the other humans or staring at their large yellow leaves, and once the final one looked away Galal made his move.

He descended upon the encampment in a few swift hops and crouched low, the carcass of his future meal beside him. Galal crouched and grabbed ahold, a twinge of strain zipping through his arms and legs as he lifted it. Weakness born of hunger. He leapt once more as the elk rested upon his shoulder, and in the next moment he had left the humans behind.

The trees separated themselves from his path as he ran through them, or at least it would seem to be the case with his speed. He dodged past each tree and continued onward with only the slightest encumbrance. Only the birds that could soar above the trees themselves were a match, though even the larger of their kind knew better than to follow one of Galal’s kind.

The shouting started well after he’d left, in between mouthfuls of meat as Galal sat crouched beside his meal. An elk was a good haul. It would last until the next day, though after that he would need to hunt once again, though seeking a new area was needed. He was new to this one, and the presence of humans did not sit well with him.

The light of day faded into darkness shortly after Galal finished what little he would eat for the day, and now sat in silence, eyes resting and sleep creeping in, the image of prey imprinting on his dreams.

A single eye opened as the clinking of metal sounded in the night, accompanying the feeling of tightness around his neck. The rectangular pupil took in the sight for but a moment, a gathering of humans armed with swords and their leather and iron cloth, and Galal stood. A snap cried out into the night and Galal kneeled, brought low by the bite of something behind him. He turned to look, but was met with another sharp bite, this time across his snout.

The humans surrounding him spoke loudly, a mess of gibberish as far as Galal was concerned. Another blow struck him in the back, and this time he could turn his head just enough to see what had done it. More importantly, who. A man in green cloth carried a long, thin weapon, rope-like in appearance.

Galal lurched as he turned, standing above the man in green in an instant. So small, humans were. He grabbed the man’s arm, fingers wrapping all the way around, the flesh yielding and bones cracking as he squeezed. The man screamed as his arm was crushed, the sound grating on Galal’s ears, and so he grabbed the man’s head with his other hand and squeezed once again.

The man’s screams ceased as his soul passed to the other world and the gathering of men gasped and exclaimed in their foreign tongue. Another man stepped forward, sword drawn, his last mistake. Galal readjusted his grip on the corpse, grabbing it by the shoulder, lifted, and swung the body at the approaching man. The human disappeared from sight, his body launched off to the side, dead or injured but bloodied all the same. He could smell it, the blood. Each man’s was different.

The circle of humans took cautious steps, some retreating back, others moving forward. Galal twisted slowly, keeping his back in motion. A predator always attacked when it was confident, and nothing made a predator more confident than a turned back. Man after man stepped forward, swinging feint after feint. An unlucky one stepped too close, and Galal seized his arm, turning rapidly and swinging the man into the air. The man came down with a scream as another stepped toward Galal, this time coming from the back.

Galal saw the uplifted ax before he could turn in full, and instead lashed out with a cloven foot, striking the man in the chest. The corpse launched back several feet, the man’s war ax remaining on the ground in the spot he once was. Galal lifted it and gave a quick, cursory swing, both to test the weapon and to keep his foes at bay.

Weapon in hand, Galal made use of the newly extended reach available to him and swung out, striking one man in the side of the neck, severing head form torso. The humans, quickly losing in number, backed away with frightful looks and exasperated curses. The four in tough iron had remained at back edges of the circle, always with two to the sides and one in back with another in front, moving in tune to Galal.

The one in front of Galal called out in the human’s tongue, a loud and incomprehensible call that signaled a hail of arrows. They dug into his skin, though just barely, and he gave a grunt as each one struck. He reach and pulled one from his should with his free hand, swinging the ax in his other to dissuade any would-be-approachers, and the men began to step back. Galal reached for another arrow, this one sticking from his arm, but his arm slowed as he reached, ceasing halfway and falling to his side, limp.

Galal took a step forward, intent on pushing through the line of men and making an escape, yet instead fell to a single knee, collapsing to the ground, paralyzed. As the men cautiously approached his fallen form Galal’s eyes closed.