Beast
Beast
T he human was cold. There was no more wood to add to the fire, and she clearly didn’t want to be touching me, but I couldn’t stand to see her sitting there shivering. I sat up and adjusted my position until my legs rested on either side of her slim body. Did she notice the way she snuggled closer to me? Was it intentional?
She stared at me with her large blue eyes and waited. There was determination there and something else I couldn’t name. Something soft, something fearful.
“I couldn’t leave you bleeding in the woods.” It was part of the truth. Even with my influence over the other animals, I couldn’t expect a predatory creature to ignore its instincts when there was fresh blood scenting the air. She was at risk the night before, and I couldn’t stand the thought of it.
The question was why. Why did it bother me so much? Over the years, I had killed a fair number of humans in self-defense or defense of others. I didn’t relish the kills. I tried my best to avoid death, but sometimes it was inevitable. And while I did my best to protect the people of the village and the creatures in the woods, sometimes I had to choose. I would always choose the more defenseless of the beings. I kept the humans safe from the predators and I protected the harmless creatures from being wiped out by the humans.
Yes, the humans needed to hunt to survive. They needed the meat and the pelts. But it was my job to make sure they never took more than they needed and that they respected the creatures who gave their lives so the humans could survive. At times, the humans forgot. They forgot our bargain; they forgot the animals they hunted deserved respect and dignity too.
Still, I never took a personal interest in the survival of a human before. I’d been releasing those they chose to sacrifice to their freedom for decades. I’d allowed the humans to run free, to find a home in the nearest village, to be given a chance to survive. Not all of them did. Sometimes the animals of the forest overtook them if they wandered too far from the path. Sometimes they got lost and injured. I’d never been compelled to protect them before. I’d given them a chance and it was up to them to use it wisely.
But the thought of this human, this girl, being harmed was anathema to me. It brought me pain to think about her bleeding out on the forest floor. Of being terrified and alone as the bears and wolves of the forest found their way to her. The moment she followed me into the woods, she’d lost the protection offered by my agreement with the village founders. But still, I couldn’t allow the other animals near her.
The feeling was foreign and uncomfortable, and I wanted nothing more than to make it go away. I couldn’t be responsible for keeping a mad human alive.
“You’ve stopped bleeding. You’re free to return to your village or make your way to the next. I’ll return you to the path. So long as you don’t wander off of it, you’ll have safe passage to the next village. They’ll take you in.”
“I don’t want to go to the next village. And I’ll die before I return to the one that sent me to die at the hands of a monster.” She winced and looked up at me with wide, scared eyes. “Not that I think you’re a monster. You’re not. I know you’re not what they raised us to believe you are. You’re nothing like the beast they’ve taught us to fear.”
A part of me hurt that they feared me. Once they worshiped me. I was celebrated by the village as their protector. They left me offerings of food and flowers and gifts. But slowly, over time, the humans stopped leaving me offerings. They began to fear me. And then they began to send sacrifices to me. Sacrifices I’d never wanted or asked for. They stopped believing in me as a god and saw me as a demon.
“You trust too easily.” I might not like the role they cast me, but I would play the monster they claimed me to be if it meant getting this girl away from me and keeping her safe. The woods weren’t meant for a soft, fragile human.
“I never trust.” She shifted to her knees. “But I know you won’t hurt me. I’ll learn to survive out here. But I’m not going back. And I’m not putting myself at the mercy of anyone else ever again.”
I reached out to cup her face in my paw. She didn’t flinch. She stared into my eyes with pleading determination. But she didn’t move. Her skin was soft beneath the rough texture of my paw. I knew nothing about keeping a human alive, especially one so soft and trusting.
So breakable.
But a part of me broke at the thought of her leaving. I yearned to keep her and make her mine. She was there, begging to stay and I wouldn’t, couldn’t, say no.
“We’re both going to regret this.”