IMP

Chapter 5: Eerin

"Uhhh?"

Those were the syllabic sanity he could sweep into a whole. He couldn't had done more than that.

His eyes widened at what he saw. Many thoughts were fighting a stance. He probably might lose it. He

kept his patience drooling as he allowed his instinct to savor whatever it was that taunted time was

leasing. He couldn't afford reeling in gaunt guts. He couldn't afford making strays of wits. He couldn't

allow pain to pore his rage. He wouldn't allow fear to mock his pride. Why would he. He had no idea

what the creature was and what it wanted. How then would he be so dramatic and belatedly dismissive.

He was damn sure that many a tales had been told to him about sundry creatures living on the upper

land. They did have less of that in his own world. What they did have were monsters. Creatures with

awkward shapes and forms. A creature with a thin body complemented by a super big head. Or one

with a large body with a ridiculously thin waist. He had no idea why they had been like that. But one

thing he was sure was that, despite their odds, they were ruthless and evil. He knew that well. He tried

to discribe the adorable creature which of course was not their to say, "Hey hi, bye!"

Unlike the other creature he had eaten. The new creature was standing on its four. Like it did have

four legs and had stripes all over its body. He had no idea if twas pores. He couldn't be sure. But he

would go for it later. The body of the creature complemented it perfectly. There was no stray of events

or wits. He could say that over and over again. He was sure that the creator had done what was more

than great. He could munch that not to be puked. The voice of the creature was deep and concerned.

He didn't know why such beautiful and lanky creature would feel so concerned. It had never occured to

him. But his worries were of no great consequence. The eyes of the creature were kindled by beauty. Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

He could trace sundry colours from there. Like the master of the creature did take his time to sort and

mix quite the numbers of colours while making the eyes. He didn't know what else to think. Towards the

jaw of the leopard where three long threads, or something close to that, sitting close to the nose on

both sides of the cheeks. He didn't know the creature to be a cougar.

He watched the Cougar make moves. Probably it was dancing. He couldn't be sure. He looked

around whether or not anyone was there who probably was pricking rhythms of a drooling drum. He

couldn't find. Probably twas a rite of the Cougars to dance firstly before descending on their preys. He

couldn't be sure and didn't want to be sure. He moved closer to the Cougar as it retreated and snarled,

hewning a gullible growl. He didn't know why the rage actually. He simply wanted to be cool with the

Cougar. He wanted to trace his hands across the stripes scribbled on his leathered skin. He wanted to

feel what its body was made of. He wanted to know if any of the creatures on that part of the universe

shared the same body formation with himself. He tried another step again as the Cougar retreated. It

wasn't ready to leave of course. Twould never be ready to live. Just as he had waited to have the head

of the thin long creature chewed earlier ago, so would he for the unfriendly creature. He took another

step closer to the Cougar again and it leapt at him.

Damn! Twas weighty. He felt he was going to go down on the pressure of the weight. The feeling

was so strong. He could feel it. His shoulders could spell the rage and tell the tale. But he wanted to

prove himself stronger than the creature. He wanted to prove that he had fought creatures bigger than

it and had killed and even devoured quite the numbers of them. But the Cougar didn't give a damn.

Twouldnt let go. Twas furious. He had no idea what he had done wrongly to it. All the creatures he had

been meeting had been prettily rude to him. They were always in the habit of attacking him. And it

usually would turn out that he would make mockery of their rustic rage. Probably attacking a stranger

was a code in that part of the universe. He couldn't really be sure. And the long fingers of the creature,

quite longer than his, drove holes in his shrewd shoulders. He knew he couldn't hold the pressure

anymore. He fell under the weight of the creature.

As he fell, he had gulped all the draws of rage he had ever known. The strong and eager teeth of

the creature rehearsed their ferociousness as its marred mouth made for his neck. Before it could fight

a bite, he was already on his feet with his hands pressed on the neck of the creature as though he was

intending on choking it. He didn't know how he had been able to stand under that pressure. He didn't

know how he had taken hold on the neck of the Cougar. Probably twas yet that missing link which

always complemented his efforts. He knew twasnt his strength. But when would he meet the giver of

the strength? When would he have words with whoever he would be. He knew taunted time for

insecurity and hampered haste would drag itself by. He would just be there to wait. He would be waiting

for it there. The Cougar kept fighting a release, but twasn't his power. Twas more than he could bite. He

had wanted to spare the Cougar, but there was a keener strength which wanted it dead. What would he

do? Of course there was nothing. He was more than so sure about that. He was merely hewning

thorned thoughts. But of course, he was sure that the missing link did project the power and strength

from within him. He knew one day, he would get to uncock the mystery.

The Cougar dropped on the earth lifelessly as he regained his old self. He firstly thought twas yet

alive, but as he stooped and traced his fingers across the sassy stripes, he confirmed its death. He

wanted it to be his lunch or dinner but was skeptical about whether or not to devour such a beautiful

creature. Ah! He lifted it up,and returned to his hood. Whenever he did hear the voice again, he would

be in a hoisted haste and would catch up with the owner of the voice.