Predator's Reflection
The Silver Forest no longer remained silent.
Somewhere deep under the ancient canopy, where silver leaves rustled under a sun already climbing towards its zenith, a clump of silvergrass had turned crimson. Blood saturated the blades, coloring the glade in macabre artistry. Five bodies lay scattered like discarded toys—five red-hued foxes, their bodies slack and eyes wide in death, steam still rising from their wounds.
Leon stood at the center of them all, chest rising and falling in deliberate breath, his body covered in streaks of gore and sweat. His golden eyes burned like hot coals. Small cuts on his chest and arms etched his skin—thin but numerous. He ignored them.
To his front lay the final beast still snarling.
It was different. Bigger. Smarter. Its scarlet fur glimmered like embers, and six tails thrashed the air with anger. Its deep ember-orange eyes seethed with fury at him—not fear—but rage. It burned with intellect behind those eyes.
