H. G. Wells Antigone: A Narrative Fiction

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The female stilled as the male approached her. She’d been listening intently to his words so far, trying to learn all she could. “Got it, no more than is needed.” It was strange to her to think they needed to trap. Annette, her younger sister, had always been reading novels that seemed to express how vicious and relentless werewolves were. They’d hunt their prey under the dark sky, dragging them from their homes into the pits of darkness. The mere thought was rather amusing, considering the truth of the situation. Isobel watched as Cross began to dig into the meat; it didn’t look as if it was even remotely cooked. Maybe he was just too hungry. It made her somewhat jealous; she wished to be able to do the same, her body was telling her to eat, to feed the desperate hunger within herself, but something was stopping her. “Well, at least it’ll do the trick then.” She murmured, referring to the food she currently held up on the stick. Isobel was growing impatient with the flames. She didn’t wish to burn it but…show more content…
If he considered that a bed, Isobel felt sorry for him. How could he even find that comfortable? Well, maybe it was all he was used to. Surely he had experienced life outside of this world, hadn’t he? As their conversation continued, it seemed that he hadn’t. Isobel couldn’t even imagine growing up as he must have; in the wild, as an animal as opposed to a human. “My society?” The blonde paused, her gaze following his own for a moment. Isobel had never indulged in hunting, neither had her family. “I’ve never been one to support hunting, it’s a ghastly hobby.” She murmured softly, the thought of killing animals for sport was a disturbing one. It did show how humans considered themselves the apex predator, and now she was realising they all had no idea what really lurked in these
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