I need a prompt

In the past few days since I made contact with the strange fox, my mind has undergone a severe alteration. Strangely enough, I now react fearfully to almost every shiver of the undergrowth, every sudden bout of birdsong. I have also been salivating uncontrollably, which would have brought me inmense discomfort in the past, but hardly bothers me now, for my emotions are fuzzy nowadays, as though smothered by some alien force.
To add to my confusion, other animals have been avoiding me, especially when I lunge forward, pushed by some bestial instinct. Though I revel in each life-changing bite, there is also some part of me that struggles against this newfound lifestyle, as though it is the only sane part of me left. . . .

Glistening, flashing tines in the night, serrated edges glimmering with the spit of outrage. Bared fangs, flashing white, gossamer yet deadly; their victory is my terminus. And rooted to the ground with fear, I know it will be soon . . . .