Usually, when the moon is this high, the stone paths they build their dwellings alongside are empty. This is the best place to hunt for stragglers, those that wander along the fringes of the colony are often in a dazed and confused state. Tonight though, there are many of them. A large group sit across the stone, all facing the same direction. A few smaller groups wander around, many carry lightweight boards splashed with color. Some raise their voices in a low, relentless chant, and they all wear cloth on the lower half of their faces. She can see now that the crowd is edged by their warriors, and the crowd seems to be bickering at them.
The hunting tonight will be tricky. She already passed nothing but empty campgrounds on her trip into town. Always empty campgrounds. Summer is usually the time of plenty, and now it is drawing to a close with no where near the bounty that previous years have provided. The pantry is still thin, though the air grows pleasant as the days grew longer. It has been that way for far too long, the elders have been overheard whispering their concerns to each other. It is risky to be this close to the heart of their village, but her family is hungry.
The humans all seem tense and angry. The general guidelines recommended targeting the more aggressive ones, to remove them from the colony so they didn’t damage each other, but tonight they all seem likely to turn on their own.
There is one. A man standing in front of a building with wood panels along the front and sides. He is pacing along the walls in an agitated state, but instead of facing the direction that most face, he is directing his anger at the crowd itself. He seems to be protecting the building, dashing at people who get too close, waving a club at them.
He seems to be protecting the building from the crowd. Everyone is tense, but his anger seems to be facing the people around him, and they do not seem angry at each other. Sometimes their anger directs at him, but they do not rise and charge him as he does them. Those in the crowd are mumbling to each other. They seem to be soothing each other. They seem to want to avoid conflict, though they seem to seethe as a whole. Some even ignore him completely. Perhaps he’s done something wrong, they are trying to exile him and he is refusing to leave. Would their warriors not remove him? Why is he guarding that building? Perhaps there is food in there and he doesn’t want to share, and that’s why they are angry.
Whatever it is, he is likely a good target. His removal will be good for the colony, prevent them from turning on each other. But how to lead him away? His eyes are not lingering on female bodies. Her usual methods would not likely work, either with rolling hips or an air of vulnerability. He seems to want to remain between the crowd and that building. Perhaps she could threaten the building, on the side away from the crowd.
The warriors pay attention when she tries to slip down the alley behind the building, but with a little mental push they seem to forget about her well enough. She clings to the corner of a wall and faces the man.
She sends him the scent of smoke, and the flash of fire. It works, his head snapping to the alley almost immediately. She lets herself be seen ducking behind the corner, and makes sure he sees her head into the grassy area, toward a corner shaded by tall shrubs.
He jogs after her, jingling as he runs, and quickly starts panting heavily. She muffles the sound of his cries toward the warriors, and watches him pause in his frustration, as he fails to get their attention. She jiggles her shrub to draw his attention, and he decides to pursue her rather than get help. It’s nice when they mistake you for weak, thinking they can take you easily when you’re alone. Their look of surprise always amuses her.
His neck snaps cleanly, and he falls silently to the ground. She is hungry, the illusions took energy she barely had to spare. She slices off an ear to nibble on, when a scream rings out. She looks up, one of the crowd is pointing at her, and others near her are rousing, looking around in increasing panic. The shrubs didn’t offer as much shelter as she thought, and she doesn’t have enough energy to cover her tracks. She tosses her kill over her shoulder, and runs.
P.S. – This is the first of thirteen prompts I have selected from Grim List. All thirteen stories will be in continuation.