And then he did. Limping, barely conscious, he emerged from the eastern woods. She ran to him, geld him tight. His clothes torn to shreds, his arms and face red with blood, but he seemed unharmed. He passed out in his mother’s arms, but it didn’t matter anymore. Somehow, he had survived. Gotten lost in the woods, and lived to tell the tale.
The kid slept for days. Erratic breathing, sweats, constant twisting and turning. Something had gotten into him. Something from a place the townspeople wouldn’t dare go. Proficient doctors lined up to examine the curious case, and what they found was curious indeed. Within his chest, thumps. Not a single rhythm, but a normal beat overshadowed by a heavy monotone thudding. The kid had two hearts.
That kid was me. This is the story of how I became an apex predator.