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// Prologue ~ The Hunt 
// Story: Death is Liberty 
// by the7Saviors 
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A sound like the distant rumble of thunder echoes across the sky. The reverberations cause the ground to shake and bid dead and fetid winds to stir once more, if only briefly. Silence rings in the wake of the sound for only a short few moments before it comes again and yet a third time after. The third fall of that thunderous sound tears an unsuspecting creature from its insensate state.

The creature jolts awake, an immediate and all-encompassing agony stripping it of any other forthcoming sensations or emotions. It tries to rise to its full height but the crippling pain scouring every inch of its flesh sends it crumpling back down to the ground. A wretched scream erupts from its throat as pain and madness coalesce into a singular amalgam of suffering.

Unbeknownst to the pitiful creature, the world around it brings not only pain and madness but monstrous change as well—change from within and without. Fur once smooth and sun-kissed grows coarse and thorny, its bright orange hue darkening to a filthy, rusty red. The tips of the creature's ears and tail retain the golden shade of a mane now gone, but the radiance is lost—the color a pale imitation of what it once was.  

Beneath the fur, the flesh stretches and warps hideously, and muscles are torn and reassembled into something wholly alien. Bones snap like the branches of a dead tree only to reform and regrow stronger than before. The hooves and muzzle that once marked the creature as equine become something closer to the thick paws and defined snout of a feral wolf—with savage claws and barbarous teeth both fit to shred meat and bone with ease. 

Verdant green eyes once full of pride and earnestness now glow abnormally luminous and predatory. Agonized screams turn to feral howls and enraged snarls and before long, the pain and madness have burned away the creature's reason entirely. It can taste the blood and insanity in the still, dead air and its newfound instincts nearly send the horrid beast into a deranged frenzy. 

As the unearthly changes take hold and the hunger sets in, intelligent thought is violently shoved aside. The hunt is the only thing that matters now, and the prey is close. The massive wolf-like beast rises to its full height and raises its nose to the sky. It sniffs at the rancid air, catching the scent of something large—some dangerous entity of colossal proportions. 

The beast's ears prick up at the thunderous sound of its approach, its mastodonic steps distant, but growing ever closer. Having pinpointed the sound, the beast turns in the direction of the entity with a fierce growl of anticipation. Its lucent green eyes pierce ineffable darkness lit only by the pale light of a broken moon high above. On the horizon to the south, over a blackened forest of twisted trees, it spots the hulking shadow of its prey.

The beast licks its slavering chops before letting out a sonorous howl fit to rouse the dead from their slumber. The distant giant, as if in response, gives its own earthshaking wail—a deep, melancholic sound that only serves to make the beast's blood boil all the hotter. Without further preamble the beast rushes forth, bounding at an impossible clip towards and into the ominous thicket to meet the wailing titan.

In the blackened dirt, where the bloodthirsty beast stood only moments ago, lies a weathered old stetson left behind and forgotten by the wolven horror that was once a mare.