A/N: I am a little unsure if I should continue with this. A little feedback would be most appreciated and would give me a feel of whether the story should be continued or not.
This wasn't fear.
Fear drove him, sustained him, but this, this was something else. It excited him, perplexed him and ignited a new hunger, one that roared from the darkness deep within him.
The scent of winter hung effortlessly in the air, moving freely on the breeze across the twilight skies. The intense cold made his sleep fitful until finally he awoke. His withered body ached and his hunger was unbearable. It wasn't his time, not yet, though time was a concept the Creeper didn't fully understand. He slept, he awoke and once his hunger was satisfied he slept again. The cycle repeated without fail, twenty three years of death for every twenty three days of life; until now.
There had been whispers and murmurings over the years. Stories that had been passed down from generation to generation, myths and legends, rumours of a demon's existence; tales of a demon that feasted upon the hearts of mortal men, that bathed in the blood of his chosen few and wore their skin like armour. The modern world had credited these stories, these myths created over time to over active imaginations and drug fuelled delusions of the weak. There were few that knew the truth; for their sins.
Kali had known the demon had awoken when the earth trembled with fear beneath her feet and the star speckled sky shrieked with terror. She chuckled softly to herself as she glanced up to the moon, knowing that he would seek her out eventually. With a gentle shrug of her shoulders her wings unfolded and spread out behind her. Within seconds she took to the skies with the silver moonlight casting her shadow across the untouched snow beneath her.
The Creeper's dry and damaged skin tore away from his body with even the smallest of movements. Pain ripped through him, contorting his face as he struggled to his feet. The ground was colder than he remembered and the faint traces of breath hung in front of his eyes as fine mist. He inhaled deeply, tasting the delights that the breeze had to offer. There seemed to be nothing of any real interest for miles around, save for the scent of distant fear. He inhaled again, ignoring the burning chill in his withered lungs. As the seconds and minutes passed, his senses grew sharper. The scent of fear grew stronger; causing his pale, dead eyes to cloud over with deadly intent. Gingerly but with an increasing sense of purpose, the Creeper made his way from his resting place. Solid, frozen ground gave way to snow almost three inches deep and the sudden, intense chill sent shivers racing up and down his crumbling spine. His grey lips curled into a snarl as his torn wings erupted from his back, causing him to roar in pain. The ravens that stood guard over his grave scattered into the sky, each in search of what the Creeper desired most.
The longer he waited, the weaker he felt. His body trembled with hunger and cold; then without warning, he dropped to one knee, shivering in the gentle wind. The cold ate at him, ravaged him until the distant call of the Raven snapped him from his daze. They'd found what he had begun to crave. With one mighty flap of his wings, the demon took flight, splitting the eerie peace of the night with a terrifying roar.