They run ravenously into the night, searching for flesh to sink their obsidian teeth into. Leaving a burning blaze in their wake, finally, the search is over. Upon an unknowing village,the Hell-hounds approach. Screams pierce the sky, and the demon-mutts become ecstatic at the sound of new toys squeaking. As quickly as they had arrived, the feral-blazers dissipated, leaving nothing but smoke, ash, and blood at the base of what was once a beautiful home. If only the villagers had listen to the wisely elder that had visited only moments before, tragedy would have been prevented.
How's the flow on this one? I do not own Beowulf in any shape form or manner, I only own this fanfic. Please review :3