A/N: This is my first Naruto fanfic. Please be gentle. All flames will rot. I DON'T OWN ANYTHING!

Gaara feels the blood upon his skin. It's sticky and warm, gliding down his face in a ruby trail. He sits among the corpses that he has made and knows pleasure.

He stares at the red on his hands, the red that stains his clothing.

It's beautiful

It's warm

It's alive.

Gaara raises his hand to his mouth. Slowly, hesitantly, he brings his cherry red fingers to his lips. His mouth closes around his fingers like a nursing babe, gently sucking the liquid from them. The taste surprises him. It's sweet and coppery, and oh so good. Gaara pulls his fingers from his mouth and turns to his other hand, repeating the motion. The sand that protects him winds around his legs, feasting on the blood that stains his legs. The sand crawls over his clothing and arms. Distantly, Gaara is aware that the sand is feeding upon the blood, absorbing it like some kind of leech.

Gaara pulls his other hand free and moves to licking his palms. He licks them delicately, like a cat with cream, careful to not let a single drop go unattended to. He moves to his arms, tongue swiping at the blood there. He throws his head back and giggles a demonic sound that would make anyone's blood run cold. He runs his tongue around his lips, reveling in the coppery sweet taste that now coats his tongue like a thick candy.

Gaara is only six years old.