The warmth of their shared intimacy still clung to the air like a fading ember. Lindy lay in the creature's arms, her cheek pressed against the rough skin of its chest, listening to the slow, steady thrum of its heartbeat. The furs beneath them were damp with sweat and the evidence of what they had done. For a fleeting moment, she almost felt safe.

But the creature's embrace loosened. It shifted, sitting up, and the loss of its heat made her shiver.

"It is time," it said, its voice low and final.

Lindy's eyes snapped open. The post-coital haze evaporated like mist in the morning sun. She scrambled up onto her knees, bound hands pressing against its chest, her face crumpling in desperation.

"No—please—" Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I'm afraid. I don't want to die. Can't you keep me? Please. I'll be good. I'll be your… your pet. Anything. I'll stay here with you. I won't try to run. Just don't—don't eat me."

Her voice cracked, pleading, her small body trembling.

The creature looked down at her, its dark eyes unreadable. A long, heavy silence stretched between them. Then it reached out, cupping her cheek with surprising tenderness, wiping away a tear with its thumb.

"I cannot, little one." Its voice was gentle but implacable. "The hunger is not something I can deny. And a pet would only remind me of what I have lost—my own kind, my own mate. You are a gift, not a companion. A moment of warmth before the cold. But the cold always comes."

Lindy sobbed, shaking her head, but the creature's hands moved from her cheeks to her throat. The touch was firm but not cruel. It positioned her gently, tilting her head back, exposing the delicate column of her neck.

"Close your eyes," it murmured. "It will be quick. I promise."

Lindy's breath hitched. Her tears flowed freely, but she obeyed, squeezing her eyes shut. Her lips moved in a silent prayer, or perhaps a goodbye.

The creature's hands wrapped around her throat. They were massive, each finger longer than her windpipe, covering the entire circumference of her neck with room to spare. The leather cord binding her wrists was still tight, but now it didn't matter. She felt the pressure—firm, steady, a warning.

"I am sorry," the creature whispered. "You were sweet."

And then it twisted.

The sound was sharp and final—a dry, clean crack like a branch breaking underfoot. Lindy's body went rigid for an instant, then slack. Her eyes, still closed, ceased their frantic fluttering. Her lips parted, a last sigh escaping, and then she was still.

The creature held her for a long moment, staring at her face, now peaceful in death. It leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then laid her body gently on the furs.

The processing began.

First, the creature untied the leather cords from her wrists and ankles, freeing her limbs. Her body was still warm, still pliant. It arranged her on the flat stone table at the back of the lair—a slab worn smooth by generations of use. Hooks hung from the ceiling above, chains clinking softly.

The creature took a stone knife from a niche in the wall, its edge sharpened to a fine, brutal edge. It worked quickly, methodically, with the practiced ease of a being that had done this many times before.

It made a deep incision across her throat, opening the carotid and jugular. Dark blood welled up, thick and rich, and the creature caught it in a clay bowl, saving every drop. Blood was precious—nourishing, full of life.

Once drained, it hung her body by the ankles from one of the hooks, using a rope through the tendons behind her knees. Lindy hung upside down, her hair brushing the stone floor, her arms dangling, her breasts swaying slightly.

The creature's hands moved with reverence. It began at her shoulders, making careful cuts along the seams of her skin, peeling it away from the muscle beneath. The skin came off in large, smooth sheets—pale, soft, unblemished. The creature spread it out on a nearby rock, salting it to preserve the hide. It would make a fine garment, or perhaps a blanket.

Next came the organs. The creature opened her abdominal cavity with a single, precise cut from sternum to pubic bone. The smell of raw viscera filled the air—copper and earth and the faint sweetness of her recent meal. It reached inside, pulling out the intestines, the stomach, the liver, the kidneys, placing each in separate piles. The heart was removed last, still warm in its palm, and the creature brought it to its mouth, biting into the muscle with a low groan of satisfaction. It chewed slowly, savoring the rich, iron taste of her life.

The rest of the meat was carved from her bones with care. The creature worked by touch, knowing exactly where to slide the knife to separate tenderloin from rib, thigh from hip, shoulder from scapula. Each cut was deliberate, almost artistic. The meat was laid out on clean leaves—pale pink, marbled with thin veins of fat.

The bones were cracked open with a heavy stone mallet, the marrow scooped out and reserved. The creature licked the inside of each bone, cleaning it thoroughly. Nothing would go to waste.

The head was severed last. The creature cradled it in its hands, looking at Lindy's face one final time. Even in death, she was beautiful—lips slightly parted, lashes dark against her cheeks. The creature pressed a kiss to her mouth, tasting copper and salt.

"You were a good meal," it murmured. "I will remember you."

It placed the head aside, intending to boil it later for the brains and the tongue. The skull would be cleaned and added to the collection of trophies that lined the cave walls—a grim gallery of past meals, mostly women, their empty eye sockets staring into nothing.

The fire crackled, ready for the first strips of meat to be smoked and dried. The creature worked through the night, processing every part of Lindy's body with the same care it had shown when it touched her in tenderness. By dawn, there was nothing left but cleaned bones, a salted hide, and the quiet satisfaction of a hunger sated.

The creature sat by the fire, chewing on a strip of her thigh meat, staring into the flames. The loneliness would return. It always did. But for now, it was full.

And somewhere deep in the forest, the wind carried the faint echo of Lindy's last cry, swallowed by the endless green.