He withdraws bloody claws, flicks chunks of bone to the side.

He thinks about his first kill, back when he was a wee pup. He didn’t know then that Benny wasn’t any old bird. She was one of the family, just like him. There had been anger, then. Slaps. He’s much wiser now.

He settles in on his haunches. Takes a bite of the dismembered rat. This one was easy. It had been too tired to fight. The stupid thing quivered, quivered before he’d even closed in on it.

He doesn’t know that this will be his last kill.

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Nat Newman - portrait

Nat Newman

Nat Newman is an award-winning writer of short stories, content, podcasts, feature articles, drunk text messages and, soon, a novella.


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