The creature stayed still in the sky, waiting for all eyes to be drawn to it before its smile turned into a malicious grin.
"I am a Rakshasa, my name is Yakub, I am hungry, two-hundred of the six-hundred humans must die tonight."
Oh, but I do enjoy a good show, so you will do this in complete darkness.
Either two-hundred die and I am satisfied, or you all die in twelve hours."
The Rakshasa then crossed its arms, as if he was a professor giving his students a challenging problem to solve.
Instantly after seeing the Rakshasa speak Shem's flight of fight instincts kicked in. Although he was still in a depressed state over his muddled memory and shock, human instinct was difficult to disobey. Lorey, thinking similarly, shoved an object into his hand before he could react. Looking down the cool glint of a sharpened kitchen knife mirrored his gaze.
"Just in case." Lorey's voice murmured into his ear, as if afraid to anger Yakub with loud speech.
A fleeting look of unwillingness flickered across Shem's face, but was swiftly replaced by one of determination. Once again, his instincts ruled like dictators in this situation, not caring for humanity and only focused on survival. Pack mentality held a leash on Shem, his only thoughts about how to protect himself and Lorey.
Still, he would rather not fight if given the opportunity. Deciding this he turned to face Lorey, mouth opened to speak.
*Snap*
"It's play time." A low but powerful voice slithered out of Yakub's mouth. With the snap, the entire tent fell into utter darkness, Shem could not even see more than one foot in front of him. Silence governed over the tent as no one moved, but after a second scuffling and grunts rose into the air.
Acting fast, Shem grasped Loreys hand before pulling her towards one of the closet tents.
"Let's hide for now and figure shit out."
'Although the tent won't provide much protection, at least if someone wants to hurt us they will have to enter the tent and face a two versus one.' Shem reasoned, his brain still censoring kill and replacing it with hurt.
Entering the tent closest to them the siblings hid in the back, deciding to wait eight hours in complete before venturing out.
Succeeding their small discussion, the sounds of fighting echoed in Shem's brain rendering him unable to focus on his current situation while in a moment of respite.
'Screams, so many screams …'
After about thirty minutes the sounds of fighting slowed, the winners prowling for prey, losers not as fortunate. Occasionally the sounds of dying men broke the careful silence, after the change occurred many people pounced on the opportunity like sharks to blood.
Surprisingly no gunshots resounded in the space, presumably the soldiers concluded that they would be useless with such limited visibility and the sound a liability.
An hour had approximately passed since the darkness reigned, now everything was quiet. The lack of stimulation from both his eyes and ears caused Shem's focus to waver and ringing replaced the silence. The sounds of death replayed in his mind, Shem's brain choosing not to censor it.
'Fuck, I might have to kill.' Shem thought not realising his own thoughts, his primal instincts still at a heightened state despite the lack of stimulation.
Luckily or unlucky he did not have to wait long for some noise, forty meters away both of the siblings heard the rustle of a tent zipper. A cold voice followed.
"Clear."
A/N: (1 foot is approx 30 centimetres)