Page 8 of Sacrificed to the Mountain Demon

My green eyes narrow as I focus on the village square. The humans are gathered there, a sea of pathetic, fragile bodies huddled together like prey. Their voices carry on the wind. It's a cacophony of worry and excitement.

"Interesting," I growl, a smirk tugging at my lips. "They're usually not this... organized."

I've watched these humans for years, studied their patterns and behaviors. But this? This is new. My tentacles curl and uncurl, itching to wrap around something – or someone.

An older woman stands at the front of the crowd. Her voice rises above the rest. The villagers fall silent, hanging on her every word. I strain my ears as curiosity gets the better of me.

"...offering..." I catch snippets of her speech. "...monster in the mountains..."

A low chuckle escapes me. "Monster, huh? If only they knew."

The crowd shifts, and I catch a glimpse of a young woman. She stands apart from the others. Her face is a mask of shock and disbelief. Something about her draws my attention. I find myself leaning forward, my claws digging into the earth.

"Well, well," I murmur, my tongue flicking out to taste the air. "What have we here?"

The girl's distress is palpable, even from this distance. I watch as she pleads with the elders, her voice rising in panic. But the crowd is unmoved. Their faces set in grim determination.

A growl builds in my throat. These humans, always so quick to throw away one of their own. It's pathetic. And yet... intriguing.

I settle back on my haunches. My eyes still fixated on the girl. Whatever game these humans are playing, I have a feeling it's about to get very interesting.

I stride back to my cave, my body filling with a strange, unfamiliar energy. Something's coming. I can feel it in my bones, in the air, in the very earth beneath my feet.

"Shit," I growl, running a clawed hand through my hair. "What the hell is going on?"

My cave looms before me, dark and imposing. It's always been enough, but now... Now it feels lacking. I pause at the entrance. My green eyes scan the interior critically.

"This won't do," I mutter, my voice echoing off the stone walls.

I move inside, my tentacles reaching out to brush against the rough surfaces. They're seeking something, though I'm not sure what. My body seems to know more than my mind right now, and it's infuriating.

I start gathering the softest mosses I can find, piling them in the back of the cave. My claws tear into the earth and create a shallow depression. It's not a nest. It's definitely not a nest. Because why the fuck would I need a nest?

"This is ridiculous," I snarl, even as I continue my work.

My tentacles stretch out and grab bits of shiny stone and interesting trinkets I've collected over the years. They arrange them around the edge of the not-nest, creating a glittering border.

I step back, surveying my handiwork. It's... cozy. The thought makes me bare my teeth in disgust. Since when do I care about cozy?

"What the fuck is happening to me?" I growl, pacing the length of the cave.

My instincts are screaming at me, urging me to prepare. But for what? A mate? The idea is laughable. I'm the only Umbrath left. There is no one for me.

And yet... the image of that human girl flashes through my mind. Her fear, her desperation. It stirs something in me, something primal and possessive.

"No," I snarl, shaking my head violently. "Absolutely fucking not."

But even as I deny it, I find myself adjusting the not-nest, making it softer, more inviting. I growl in frustration. Well, if something’s coming, I'll be ready for it.

I pace the length of my cave. My claws scrape against the stone floor. The silence is deafening, broken only by the occasional drip of water from the stalactites above. Fuck, I hatethis. The quiet. The emptiness. The constant reminder that I'm alone in this godforsaken world.

My tentacles twitch restlessly, seeking something – anything – to grasp onto. But there's nothing here. Just me and my thoughts. And let me tell you, my thoughts are shit company.

I think back to my encounters with humans over the years. Their wide-eyed terror, the stench of their fear. It used to thrill me, make me feel powerful. Now? Now it just leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Pathetic creatures," I growl, my voice echoing off the cave walls. "Always running, always afraid."

But even as I say it, I can't shake the memory of that girl in the village. The way she stood apart from the others, her face a mask of defiance even as they condemned her. It was... different. Intriguing.

---