With a furious howl, they lunge forward. They go for the eyes, nails raking, gouging. They want blood, hot, fresh blood, to spill, to splash, to coat them. They want to hear the gurgle, the death rattle, the sound of life leaving... and to know that they caused it.
They want nothing but death, and the want it NOW.
More than an urge, it's something undeniable, irresistible. More so even than breathing, it's closer to the tides or the weather. It simply is.
And now it's too late.
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