The shadow beast set its trap as it had for hundreds of years. The beast knew the ways of man, since it had been a man, or woman, eons ago. All vestiges of humanity were long gone now, the beast had more in common with the cackling hyaena of the African plains, or the wakening fury of a grizzly bear after a long winter's sleep.
The area it picked was ripe with spring berries and opulent poppies, whose rich fragrance was known to provoke a sleeping sensation for other creatures. The beast preferred to defile the poppies, but today, it held back and was careful not to leave a feather or a scrap of fur in the area for a victim to be wary of.
The beast was ravenous. It hadn't eaten a good meal full of juicy meat and crunchy bones for at least three moon cycles. What was drawing the delicious smelling humans to the area was not something the beast cared about, only that they were near by, and noisy; therefore, its prospective meals were not aware of the danger they were walking into.
It didn't walk, hop or fly, rather, the Shadow Beast oozed around the trees and grasses, smoothing out a bed of sweet poppies, placing flat, sun warmed rocks in a pretty pattern to encourage rendezvous or resting. Only a dark, cold, prickly sensation was in the air, enough to scare the rabbits away and the snakes to go back deep into their woody holes. The very light of the sun seemed to fall into the Shadow Beast, like a dark hole swallowing small galaxies.
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