The sunless morning shone down drearily as the figure climbed from an artificial hole in the world. The rusted hatch that lay to the side of it was covered in incomprehensible markings, time had long since eroded their true meaning, and smoke billowed out in dark swirls. A hand, inch and a half long bone protrusions jutting from its fingertips, dug easily into the soil and the figure removed himself from the small chasm. Blood ran from a multitude of cuts and gashes all across his body. He sat precariously upon its edge and brought clawed and bleeding hands closer to his face. Fingertips underwent a silent metamorphosis as the iron-strong bone substance returned to its state of soft, if not slightly calloused, flesh. The man snarled deep in his chest as he watched the change occur.<br/><br/>Monster.<br/><br/>There was no trace of what the figure sought in this place and he grew irritated at his failure. He could hear it calling to him now; the rage, the hunger that would never be quenched. Did it truly want to be? Would it be fulfilled if all life was destroyed, or would it persist? Maybe this demon would never be satisfied…<br/><br/>He began rocking to and fro in his pain, the manmade wound in the earth eerily calling to the figure's psyche. To hide. To die away and disappear within  the rest of the dust and ash that enveloped this dead world, but no. There was still his prize to be found. As his rocking momentum brought him forward and away from the cavernous siren, he shot into the looming forest. With a small mental struggle he managed to keep the more extreme agony at bay. Air whipped by him, numbing his open wounds as his preternatural speed made him nothing but a blur. Something whispered softly into his conscious mind. It was hope.<br/><br/>There was no noise as he moved swiftly through the nearly suffocating amount of plant life that swallowed him indifferently. It was no obstacle however, he melted gladly into his surroundings just like the predator he had become. There was something new though. It clung ever-so slightly to the air. It was distant; maybe a kilometer or two, but its presence was strong in its faintness. There was a brief pause in the figure's stride as he slowed himself enough to change direction. It was stronger now. Sparks of recognition erupted through the nerve endings in his mind as each smell, so intermingled, yet so distinct, came to him. Muscle rippled through his legs and pain once more made itself known as he launched himself vertically, a tree branch bent slightly beneath his weight as he landed gracefully upon it. The world was now stretched before him and he accepted its embrace.<br/><br/>Death… Not human, but they are close…<br/><br/>The region he was entering was heavy with new scents. The figure's nose twitched as they all came to him. Oil, people, wolves, and the acrid smell of gunpowder were all swirling together. Only the rustling of leaves could be heard as he launched himself from tree to tree. After some time had elapsed the forest began to thin out. With no other choice, he let gravity take him back down to ground level.<br/><br/>Dense brush kept him hidden from view as he crept upon a road. Dust was still settling down signifying it was used fairly recently. The figure lifted his nose into the air and once more found the scent of pure human. This time they were closer, much closer. As he moved quickly, though cautiously forward a massive wall became visible in the distance. Watch towers could be seen standing like small mountains towering over their subjective forest. Lines of trucks were parked and a large number of people were milling about and unloading equipment. In a flash of motion the man dashed from one side of the road to the other to try and avoid detection, but it was too late.<br/><br/>"Something off the path!" The shout came from someone in the tower nearest him. The figure slowly crept backward into the overgrowth.<br/><br/>Too many. Too wounded. Can't fight.