The lady wore red and had a predator's gleam in her eye. She was hunting, but it was not for a mate. She was out for blood. A sacrifice, like the old tribes in the primitive parts of the world. What she required the sacrifice for was anyone's guess. She offered no answers.
It was beautiful and terrifying to watch. Her movements sleek and graceful. The way she would sniff the air for her prey. Every step and movement was deliberate. Cold methodical calculation showed in her huntress eyes. When she licked her lips, there was nothing erotic about it. She could taste the blood of her victim.
Once she found her prey, and the hunt was joined, there was no stopping her. An intricate ballet of circles and straight line pursuits, to wear her victim down. She wanted blood. Needed it. A sacrifice.
Her victim stumbled, fell, and it was all over. She sprung with the ferocity of predators told of in nightmare stories. Her prey only had a single chance to look up, to see her feral eyes.
There was rending, kicking, clawing, gnashing, biting, and punching. Blood sprayed everywhere. Ran in thick rivers along walls and the ground. She licked her lips in satisfaction, tasting the blood, holding her victim's heart like a trophy. She raised the organ to the sky, her sacrifice fulfilled, just before taking a bite of it.
Then she disappeared into the night, leaving behind the mutilated remnants of her sacrifice. Blood was smeared everywhere, yet she was spotless. Immaculate. The lady wore red. It helped to conceal the bloodstains.