The Prey was in peril, the hu-man’s pain nearly driving the creature to madness.
Running down a paved road, it claws clacking against the tarmac, it bayed in its alien pain. Only the creature itself was destined to kill and to eat the Prey. It was its mission, its duty, as assigned by the all-knowing Masters. If something else should cause the Prey’s demise, what then? It would have no goal, no purpose, and it would have failed. At which point, the Masters would either destroy it or—worse yet—abandon it on this horrible mud-ball called Earth.
That would not do.
Ahead, the creature saw a group of foul-smelling dead hu-mans milling about alongside the road. It sent forth a pulse and pushed them aside so that they moved away instead of into the creature’s path. The Masters had given it this one small power over their undead servants but it was not enough to control them as did the Masters. It had only the ability to shove the dead men away should any rogues, like the ones here, block its progress. Which was good because it could not stand the sight or smell of the dead hu-mans. Live ones did not bother it as much, but it had not seen many of those lately.
The Prey was now only two or three solar cycles away. The creature sent out a prayer to its Masters that it would reach him in time. Perhaps the Masters would be satisfied, even if the creature itself did not kill the Prey, just so long as the Prey was dead. But then the creature itself would not be satisfied and that would not do at all.
The Prey was in trouble, and so the creature moved faster now to fulfill its destiny, to destroy Jubal Slate before something else could.