#demon beaver

[lowpolyanimals]

Demon Beavers from Grim Fandango

[thefigureresource]

Aussa the Earth Charmer [Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters] 1/7 scale from Kotobukiya coming April 2024.

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Uninvited Guests

From the outside nothing really looked that different. But in the royal kitchens and along the corridors and in the areas where the servants gathered to whisper among themselves, the word went out. Haou-sama had chosen the last of his closest advisors – the ones known as the Death Duelists. While there would not be a true celebration, not the sort of thing that most of those who lived and worked in his castle had only heard vague stories about, it was subtly decided that a slightly finer feast than usual should be held to welcome Guardian Baou as the last of the chosen ones.

No one knew the criteria that Haou-sama used to choose those particular ones. It could be presumed that the drive for cruelty, ambition, and a carelessness for the lives of others were high on the list of desirable qualities. Guardian Baou, Skull Bishop, Chaos Sorcerer, Skilled Black Magician, and Skilled White Magician all held those qualities in the highest of amounts.

There were a few others that also held them and they were considered not quite as high in the ranks but very close. Snoww the Magician of Dark World stood among them – she who had been the first of the survivors of Dark World to kneel to the one who defeated Brron. Snoww also knew all of the gossip of the castle and passed it on to Haou-sama, should she deem it worthy of his attention.

Which she seldom did. She knew what he desired to know most of all and that could not be found out from kitchen gossip. But it remained interesting or her to know regardless. Knowledge was power, and power of any kind could be of great use.

If Haou noticed anything about the splendor of this night’s dinner, it did not reflect in his cold golden eye or the unamused tilt of his lips. He simply sat at the head of the table, waiting and watching as the servants brought the food around. Seated beneath him were his Death Duelists, all of them quietly chatting among themselves, Guardian Baou being instructed by Chaos Sorcerer on how matters were conducted here.

Snoww sipped a cup of well-aged wine, nibbling at tiny pieces of well-braised meat. She approved of this; it proved that the local farmers and herders accepted Haou-sama as their liege, as they sent the proper tithes to the castle. Haou-sama’s reign remained well-begun.

Course by course elegantly prepared food graced the table. Only those of a certain rank were allowed there – the Death Duelists, Snoww herself, two of her assistants, and a small handful of others who strove daily to prove their worth. Most of those were demons or dark spellcasters of some kind or another. One of them was an angel – she wasn’t certain of his name, but the expression on his face and the tilt of his wings told her that he was as cold and cruel as any of the fiends.

Her intentions were to ghost among the attendants after dinner, learn who the ones she didn’t know were, and pass any interesting information on to Haou-sama. For several reasons, her plans didn’t work out the way she expected.

Servants brought out the final course – a delicious dessert made of fruit and nuts. According to protocol, Haou-sama was the last served, and his portion was also the largest. As the highest in rank there, he deserved nothing less.

He’d said nothing throughout dinner but that wasn’t a surprise. He normally only spoke when he chose to give an order. Those who served him learned what he wanted from the gaze of his eyes and the flicker of expressions across his impassive face. It really wasn’t that hard, since all that he truly seemed to want was for everyone who didn’t directly serve him to die.

Snoww did wonder about that. But it wasn’t her place to question.

As Haou-sama prepared to take a bite of his dessert, there was a sensation of movement from one of the shadows near the table. It wasn’t something anyone there expected, not even Haou-sama. He stared at the creature that darted out of the darkness, some of the first surprise that she’d ever seen on his face.

“Demon Beaver,” Guardian Baou said, breaking the startled silence. “I haven’t seen one of those in years. What’s it doing here?”

He stood up and reached for the creature where it sat on the table, tiny bat wings flared, and horn pointing defensively at whoever drew nearer. Its tail stretched out over the plates, a tiny fork at the end, and before Baou could get a grip on it, Demon Beaver leaped forward to where Haou-sama’s dessert lay on his plate, and jerked it up into his mouth.

By all rights, it shouldn’t have been able to take the whole dessert in. The nuts were large and so were several portions of the fruit. But all of it vanished down the creature’s throat. For a few seconds its stomach bloated, then it was all gone.

It chirped a noise unlike any Snoww had ever heard before, then leaped back into the darkness that had spawned it. The whole event had taken less than a minute. Baou stopped in his tracks, staring at where it had been.

Haou rose up, eyes colder than usual. “What was that?” He spoke, biting off each word with more relish than he had the meal he’d just had.

“Demon Beaver,” Guardian Baou repeated himself. “Like I said, I haven’t seen one around here before. There was a little colony of them near where I grew up.” He eyed Haou, then the other Death Duelists, and picked up his own untouched dessert. “Here, Haou-sama. You’re welcome to mine.”

He started to hand it over, freezing when Haou gave him a disdainful look. Their liege lord rose up to his feet and stalked out of the room, last words floating behind him.

“If the creature turns up again, I want it destroyed. Bring me its hide, horn, and wings to prove what you’ve done and I will reward you.”

One eyebrow of Snoww’s flicked upward at that. Had he really wanted the dessert that much or was he simply displeased by the fact such a tiny creature interrupted their dinner? Even for her, it could be difficult to determine the truth behind his words.

“What an interesting ending to the meal,” an unfamiliar voice spoke from behind her. She turned, hand tightening on her staff, to look into the face of that angel she’d seen earlier. She nodded a silent greeting.

“So it was. Will you seek the creature’s life?” Snoww wondered. The other shrugged, the motion liquid and beautiful.

“Perhaps. It’s difficult to determine when I don’t know what the reward is. What would Haou-sama grant to someone who isn’t one of his precious Death Duelists?” The angel’s lips quirked into a smile that wasn’t sweet at all but perhaps wished to pretend to be.

Snoww allowed herself a little bit of a smile, a trifle warmer than the other’s. “You could ask him if it means that much to you.” She tilted her head to one side, eyes raking him up and down. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of an introduction.”

“Why, so we haven’t.” He bent forward, wings spreading wide. “I am Fallen Angel Lucifer. And you are, I believe, Snoww, Magician of Dark World.”

Snoww nodded in return. “I’ve heard of the Fallen Angels. Your people live far from here, don’t they?”

“Very far. I came to this area to conduct negotiations with Brron before his demise.” Lucifer’s wings pulled back as he straightened up. “Seeing what Haou-sama has done makes me far more interested in allying with him, though.”

Snoww’s lips thinned in amusement. “Is that so?”

“It is indeed. Do you think that he would be interested in an alliance? We have several resource that he may wish to make use of.” Lucifer raised his arm and tapped on the duel disk there. “I am not the least of duelists in my family. We could provide many warriors to serve his cause.”

“Perhaps.” Snoww shrugged casually. “That is for Haou-sama to decide. But perhaps if you capture that Demon Beaver and bring it to Haou-sama, dead or alive, he might look favorably upon your offer. Though in truth, I can’t actually say for sure. He makes his own decisions.”

Lucifer nodded, a thoughtful tilt to his lips and the ends of his wings flicking casually. “It is an avenue worth pursuing, I’m certain.” His gaze shifted back to the Death Duelists, who stood in a small circle talking among themselves, and some of the servants who looked terrified as they whispered together.

Snoww wasn’t surprised by that. Many of them had followed Haou-sama from Brron’s castle and they were quite used to his temper and rages. If Demon Beaver had stolen from Brron, then everyone who’d even looked at the food would have been executed in the most horrible ways possible. Haou-sama’s orders were almost benign in comparison.

It made her wonder what he would do if someone brought the creature to him alive. Somehow, she doubted it would be made a tame pet of.

Lucifer retired to his chambers and settled down there quietly, reading over a book he’d brought with him. He said nothing, did nothing but quietly turn the pages of his book, until a quiet trill wafted through the air. He still didn’t look up.

“Well?” He said only the single word. Again the trill sounded and now his eyes narrowed. “I’m certain it was delicious. But that’s not what I want to know. You shouldn’t have even showed yourself.”

If he’d raised his head and turned it, he would have seen Demon Beaver in one corner of the chamber, right where the shadows hung the thickest. His room wasn’t very large; he could have reached out and touched the creature if he chose. But he didn’t; Demon Beaver could move faster than he could and would be away in the darkness before he could so much as touch the creature’s horn.

“Have you found out anything else? Anything useful?” Lucifer wanted to know. The edges of his wings twitched and wiggled. He wasn’t very good at missions like this; he didn’t have the temperament or the patience for it. He’d meant to fly in here and raze it all to the ground. Brron had insulted the Fallen Angels one time too many and now it was his task to avenge the slight.

Only before he could do that, some – some human from another world appeared and did Brron in. Technically Lucifer could have just returned home and called the matter even. But the existence of Haou intrigued him. He wanted to know where this strange human came from and how he gained all of his power.

Demon Beaver would help with that. The creature could smell power as easily as it could smell a delicious treat, and so far it had managed to inform him that Haou-sama did have a power that was – well, it didn’t know what the power was, only that it was more than human and other than that of a spirit.

Lucifer drummed his fingers on the table before him, thinking. “Stay out of sight. If you get found, you’re going to get skinned, de-horned, and your wings ripped off, and that makes you useless to me.”

Another trill and a noise that made Lucifer snort. “I don’t care if you wouldn’t like it either. I hired you to find information for me, not become someone’s wall decoration. Get back there and find out something.” This time he turned towards Demon Beaver, eyes flashing with rage. “Or I’ll turn you into a wall decoration myself.”

Demon Beaver chittered at him, then faded away into the shadows, tail twitching out of sight the last. Lucifer kept the words that he wanted to say behind his teeth. It would be far better if he did nothing that could bring Haou’s attention to himself.

The idea of killing Haou certainly appealed to him. It would mean that his realm would extend to this area. The Fallen Angels and the monsters of Dark World warred against each other for longer than even he could remember. By some standards, since Brron died and they lived, then the Fallen Angels had won the feud. And yet there were still those of Dark World who lived.

It didn’t seem that Snoww realized exactly who he was. Perhaps she’d not heard of the feud – which truly seemed impossible to him. He’d spent his entire life knowing of it and knowing that Brron’s people would kill him if they could. It was his duty to kill them first.

Perhaps it didn’t matter. Perhaps this would give him the chance to kill Haou, or the remaining survivors of Dark World, or both. Then all of this land would belong to him and to his people.

Lucifer thought that would be a very pleasant way to end this feud – and the very best way.

Guardian Baou grew up on the borderlands between the realm of the Dark World monsters and the Fallen Angels. He’d spent plenty of time in his youth guarding their village, watching for the slightest sign of attack. Frequently when the attack came, he gave the word, and from the time he could run about unaided, he assisted the defenders of the village. When he grew old enough to fight himself, he joined them.

Before then, he wandered the thick woods and mountains that filled the borders. He saw many animals, monsters, and spirits there, among them Demon Beavers and Evil Rats. All of them had the trick of jumping into the darkness to get away from someone trying to trap them.

He made several traps in that long-ago time to try and get hold of one, just to be able to turn the hide into something useful. Trapping was one of the professions that the locals excelled in. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something that he in particular excelled at.

It was one of the reasons he gave up on trying and focused on learning how to fight. He almost wished he’d chosen differently, one day when he returned from his lessons to find that the creatures had chewed holes in their palisade, and an army in service to the Fallen Angels swept in, laying waste to all in there.

Ever since then, he hated all of those tiny creatures and gone out of his way to destroy them wherever they cropped up. Now, at least decades after he’d last seen one of those, he knew that he still carried those glowing coals of hatred.

How did one even get here? They shouldn’t be here. That bothered him. Haou-sama’s castle sat near volcanic mountains, nowhere near the lush and fertile area that he’d grown up in. Normally Demon Beaver and the like lived in places with a great deal of trees and foliage to gnaw through.

Someone had to have brought it there, he decided. Exactly who he couldn’t – no. Wait. He did know. He’d seen the culprit at dinner for several days now.

Fallen Angel Lucifer. He’d never seen the angel even from a distance before. But he knew the name. It hadn’t meant anything to him before; he’d not thought much about the Fallen Angels since leaving the ruins of his homeland, seeking a strong master to offer his duel disk and his weapons to. He knew that there had been a feud between those of Dark World and the Fallen Angels but it hadn’t seemed to matter that much.

Now what did this creature want with Haou-sama? Guardian Baou refused to allow something to happen to his master.

Not that he thought anyone like Lucifer could actually hurt Haou-sama. But his liege didn’t need to waste his time on such a lowly adversary.

He considered carefully his course of action, then headed down to the kitchen to give some orders.

Three waxing and waning of the comet’s light – three days and three nights, by the metrics of some worlds. Demon Beaver popped up at any meal that had something sweet, gobbling it all, giving a quick look around, and then vanishing. Haou-sama hadn’t said anything more about the matter than he had the first night. A reward for the one who brought him proof of Demon Beaver’s demise and nothing more.

On the fourth dinner after that first encounter, the same dessert from that original encounter was brought out. Haou didn’t react – though those close to him might have caught a glimpse of thinning lips and a flicker of tension. Almost any who did would have merely written it off as expecting the annoying creature to come back.

Just as Haou-sama reached for a slice of fruit, Demon Beaver tumbled out of the thick shadows, and squealed at the sight of the dessert, an even greater serving than the one before. It darted swiftly forward, tiny hands reaching for the largest nut available.

In the heartbeat before it touched, Haou’s armored hand landed on Demon Beaver’s horn, driving it forward into the stone table, while his other hand pinched the bat-like wings together even as they attempted to beat to get away. Nothing the creature did could get it away from that relentless grip as Haou hefted it off of the table, wrenching the horn out as he did.

He raised it up to stare at it. “Whose servant are you?” His voice hadn't changed. Cold and crisp and without a shred of true emotion, the voice of a king.

Tiny squeaks were emitted from the creature. Haou-sama’s eyes narrowed before he turned to glance at a patch of empty air – that wasn’t empty a moment later. A fluffy Hane Kuriboh fluttered there, squeaking at Demon Beaver, who squeaked back. Then Hane Kuriboh turned to Haou-sama and said something that no one else could understand.

Slowly Haou-sama turned his head, golden gaze scraping across those seated below the Death Duelists. “Fallen Angel Lucifer.”

The angel stiffened, hands tightening into fists. “Yes, Haou-sama?” He kept his voice as cool as possible.

Guardian Baou grinned wickedly. “I knew it was you. Who else would send one of those things around to bother people?”

Haou-sama gestured him to silence as he rose to his feet. “It seems there is a feud between your lands and those of Brron, which I now rule.”

“That was my original intent,” Lucifer said, his wings sweeping back and forth. “But not at the moment. I only wished to – learn about you.”

Guardian Baou didn’t wait for an order. Nor did the other Death Duelists. The five of them encircled Lucifer, Chaos Sorcerer with his sword out, the others wielding their own weapons or magical energies. But Haou shook his head.

“And what have you learned?” He didn’t sound even remotely amused. But he never did.

“That you are a mighty warrior and king and it is in the best interests of the Fallen Angels to call an end to the old feud and ” Lucifer hesitated over his words only for a few seconds. “Request an alliance with you, great lord.”

Haou regarded him with those unsettling golden eyes. “And your purpose in letting this creature roam here?”

“I only wanted to learn and Demon Beaver has served my family for ages. I gave it no orders to steal anything of yours.” Lucifer promised, wings wiggling even more. “In fact, if you choose to skin the beast, I have no objections at all.”

Again Haou’s eyebrows quirked the faintest bit. Then he tossed it back to Lucifer. “You are a duelist?”

“Yes, Haou-sama,” Lucifer nodded, catching the little creature and setting it on the table. Demon Beaver grumbled and wriggled, and Lucifer rested a hand on its head. It wasn't quite calming, but it at least quieted down.

“Then you will duel someone of my choosing. If you win, then your Fallen Angels will become my servants. If you lose – I will destroy your entire realm and add it to my own.”

Lucifer’s hands tightened on Demon Beaver. “And if I choose not to duel?”

The smile held not a scrap of joy to it. “Then I will destroy your realm and add it to my own – and you will aid me in doing so.”

At once Lucifer shook his head. “There’s nothing you can do which would make me do that.”

Snoww laughed at his denial. “You’re unaware of the depths of Haou-sama’s power, I see. If he chooses to shatter your will and make you his slave, then so will you be. You have the chance to bend your knee to him freely – I would suggest that you take it.”

Lucifer’s eyes darted all around, briefly landing on Guardian Baou, who smirked back at him wickedly. “Then I will duel Guardian Baou.”

“I said that you’ll duel someone of my choosing.” Haou nodded towards the guards, who moved forward to seize Lucifer by the arms and wings. “Take him to his quarters. Ensure that no one approaches him until I command otherwise.”

Lucifer wriggled and struggled, but the guards that Haou-sama chose were too strong, supported by his magic, and they carried him away, Demon Beaver with him. Guardian Baou turned to his master as the great door closed behind them.

“Haou-sama,” Guardian Baou dropped down to one knee. “Please, I beg of you – allow me to defeat that foul upstart. He cannot be trusted – none of those Fallen Angels can be. Please, let me wipe their name from the world.”

“No.” Haou replied without hesitation. “You need not worry about him. I have someone else in mind already.

Guardian Baou looked as if he were about to protest. The words died on his lips the moment that Haou stared down at him. He dropped his head in submission.

“As you wish, Haou-sama. May I ask who your champion will be?”

“No.” And with that, Haou stalked out of the room, with a casual flick of his cape.

Dinner had been absolutely forgotten in the wake of events. Now everyone scattered, thinning out into tiny clumps of people who gabbled back and forth with one another, trying to figure out who would fight for Haou-sama’s honor. Perhaps it would be Haou-sama himself? Would he give the Fallen Angel that much honor? Or perhaps it would be a prisoner. There were a few who hadn’t yet met their end still held in the dungeon.

A few whispered of some of the rebels who gathered together in hidden corners of the land. No one wanted to speak of them to Haou, but rumors ran rampant of an odd pair, one in black, the other in white. Rumors bounded but no one knew their names or even if they existed. Only whispered accounts from distant viewings had even a hint of their reality.

Guardian Baou tried not to pout very much. He wanted above all else to slay the Fallen Angel, to end the memories that had lasted all this time. But if Haou-sama chose to give this honor to someone else, then so be it.

“Perhaps it will be my sister,” Chaos Sorcerer mused. “Chaos Hunter is an extremely skilled duelist and warrior. I would be pleased to see her fight for Haou’s cause.”

Skilled Black Magician shrugged. “We have a cousin who could also do well – Skilled Blue Magician. But I can’t say if he’s even in the area. He’s been traveling a long time.”

No one could come to any kind of decision and they finally dispersed altogether, returning to whatever work or pleasures that this most unusual dinner hour interrupted.

Guardian Baou. Lucifer’s lip curled at the thought of that fool. He vaguely recalled that there had been a village on the border many years earlier that he’d hired Evil Rats and Demon Beavers to gnaw into so the mercenary army he’d collected could clean it out. Apparently there had been a survivor. That hadn’t meant much to him then. All it meant now was that it had interrupted his delicate scheming.

He would have to duel. He didn’t know yet who his opponent would be, but it didn’t matter. Whoever it was, he would quickly end them. He wasn’t interested in submitting to Haou but if it kept him and his people alive long enough to find a way to dispose of Haou, then it would be worth it.

Besides, he rather liked the idea of killing someone. It had been far too long since he’d done that. He didn’t want to lose the knack.

Lucifer remained imprisoned in his room for three more turns of the comet. Demon Beaver stayed with him, whether the creature wished to or not. Whenever it tried to get through the shadows, it simply reappeared elsewhere in the room. Clearly the work of Haou’s spellcasters.

At last the guards returned and this time they didn’t bring food. This time he was escorted out to where Haou and his Death Duelists awaited. Haou spoke as soon as he entered the arena.

“I have chosen your opponent.” With a flick of his hand, another person was escorted into the arena. Lucifer stared at who it was, his throat drying in fear.

“Desire?” He murmured, seeing his younger brother there. Desire stared back at him.

“Lucifer. I thought-” Desire whipped around to stare up at Haou, shaking his head. “You told me that I was fighting for my people!’

“And so you are.” Haou said with that endless calm. “Fallen Angel Lucifer, if you win this duel, then your people serve me and your realm becomes a part of mine. If you lose this duel, then I will destroy your people and leave nothing but memories.” He turned his attention to Desire. “Fallen Angel Desire. “The same holds true for you – victory brings servitude and survival. Loss means death for all of yours.”

Both started to shake their heads. Snoww politely cleared her throat from where she stood. “Do remember – if you fail to battle as Haou-sama wishes, then your lands and people are also forfeit – as is your free will. If you value that, then battle as warriors unafraid.”

Desire and Lucifer turned back to one another. Lucifer squared up his shoulders and flipped his wings out, preparing for what might be the final battle of his entire life. Desire followed suit.

“If that’s the way that it is, then I will miss you, my brother.”

Desire held out his arm and his duel disk appeared on it. “I Fear those are the words that I should speak to you, brother. Have you any words for me to give to Asmodeus when I return home?”

“To do what is proper,” Lucifer advised him. Desire nodded, clearly not happy about the order, but he would obey. Asmodeus was Lucifer’s heir, as he had no children of his own yet. If he did end up falling, Asmodeus would be the one to assume his throne.

And he would be the one to seek vengeance against the one who forced Desire to slay his own kin. Haou-sama might be a powerful human, but he was nothing more than human. His power could not stand to that of the Fallen Angels, and he would learn that in the most painful of ways.

He did so hope that he would be there to see that happen. Perhaps he would even be there to teach the lesson himself.

He raised up his duel disk. All of the Fallen Angels sparred most carefully against one another and watched as they dueled others. He knew Desire’s moves as Desire knew his. It was possible to tell who might win this battle. Perhaps in the end, it didn’t matter. The true enemy would be Haou – and someday, there would be revenge. Until then, if nothing else, it would be the grandest fight of his life.

The same word fell from his lips and Desire’s in the same moment.

“Duel!”

The End

Notes: Picking just one thing for this prompt wasn't easy. There's just so much I would love to see more of! But I decided on this: more of Juudai's time ruling Dark World. As well as Dark World politics and how various factions interact.

[flamingo-queen-writes]

At the dacha: A Hazy snippet

It’s not doll clothes (yet), @glitter-cake20, but I made a thing for you. ^_^

When researching toys, you sometimes come across the strangest, most disturbing things. That people actually handed to their children and said, “go forth, child, and make merry with this cursed object.” So, naturally, HA -- no, not everything is horrible. Gotcha! Naturally, I had to jot out a scene based on one such find.

* * * * * * * * * *

--Dacha outside Perm, Summer of 1969--

The Soldier has been tasked, while the little mouse has her bath, with standing in the corner of the office-cum-playroom and waiting. It will be a while, given the amount of splashing downstairs and the younger politician’s pleas that she behave herself. His mistake is that he says “comport yourself like a lady,” as though the little mouse knows what “comport” means or has any intention of being a lady.

Strike and strike, younger politician. Even the Soldier knows better than that. And he just met the little mouse for not-the-first-time that afternoon. She’s come back to him -- shape and reality both -- but she’s still covered all over in fresh and new, won’t be truly familiar to him for another couple of interactions. It’s okay, though. There’s a whole summer to get to know her again.

His eyes are drawn, again, to the opposite corner of the room, the one with the toy box. Every visit to this dacha sees some curating of the toy box. New things added, depending on the child who is to stay there. Old things removed. It’s a curiosity to him, every time. It’s not even him forgetting -- there are legitimately new things in there. He knows it.

And someone has carelessly left it open.

There isn’t any reason not to look inside. It isn’t as though he was looking inside the desk, where the General’s oh-so-angry wife keeps that letter opener she likes to threaten him with. He wouldn’t be prying. The lid was left open. He wouldn’t even have to reach inside to get an idea of what it is that has been put in it for the little mouse to play with over the summer.

Just a little peek, really. A glance. Less than a glance, even.

He wasn’t told to stand in this exact spot, after all. He wasn’t even told to stand. Just to “stay here” until bath time was over. The younger politician has hangups, and one of those is the notion that the Soldier could be present for something like bath time. That’s apparently a very bad thing, and to be avoided so thoroughly that the Soldier should be all the way on a different floor of the dacha during that time.

It hardly matters to him. When the younger politician goes away tomorrow, back to Moscow with a crate of produce, he will simply ignore the man’s hangups and go about business as usual. The little mouse enjoys combining story time with bath time. She’s very well behaved, and hardly splashes him at all while he sits on the floor and reads to her. The Soldier suspects this is in large part due to his not stupidly telling her to “comport herself like a lady.”

For a politician, the little mouse’s father is terrible with words.

“Here,” for instance, is a vague term in some people’s mouths, open to a variety of interpretations. The General doesn’t even use it, for the most part. Just says to stay, and the Soldier knows what is meant. But the younger politician had said “stay here,” and coming from him, “here” could be interpreted as “in the room.”

So. Strike three, younger politician. The toy box is his to peruse.

The Soldier has already encountered the stumpy giraffe, the floppy rabbit, and several of the dolls inside the box, so that’s nothing new, nothing of note. There’s the spiny hippo, the plastic kangaroo, and all the rest of their cohort, even though the little minnow doesn’t seem to care for them much anymore. It’s possibly the little mouse’s turn to play with these.

There is, for some reason, a plush cabbage in the box about the size of a fist. It looks like the plush tomatoes women poke pins into while sewing, but it’s green, and has no pins. Maybe the little mouse is to learn to sew this summer.

That seems like a terrible idea, needles in the hands of a child so small, but who is he to judge? He taught her how to bite people last summer -- how could he object to teaching her to stick pins in things? It’s only a short step from pins to knives, anyway. Maybe two steps, with letter openers in between. 

Is it ever too early to learn how to properly stab a man?

He discovers, as he pulls every single item out of the box to inspect them for damaged parts that might hurt the little mouse, that the plush cabbage is joined by a trio of stuffed felt mushrooms, a large fluffy carrot, a fuzzy leek, and something that could be a turnip, if he squinted. Maybe a rutabaga.

Gardening lessons instead of sewing lessons? But then where are the potatoes? There should be a lot of those. He puts the tiny plush salad back into the box, grouping them together so none of the vegetables get lost.

And that leaves him two extraneous items still outside the toy box and looking to go back inside. Neither of them seem, to his eyes, anyway, like they deserve a place in the toy box. They’re… weird. Weirder than the other toys, and when one took the time to truly ponder the deformities found in some of these toys -- looking at you, ugly bat thing with the freakishly elongated head -- it was kind of hard to get weirder. 

But here they are.

There is the… he’s honestly not sure what designation to give it. It’s maybe closest to a monkey, but with round ears fully the size of the rest of its head. And no tail. It could be a bear, he supposes. Whatever it’s supposed to be, it holds a… pumpkin? orange? peach? He turns it over in his hands. Alright, then. The monkey with the pumpkin, it is.

He’s probably wrong, but he’ll own that. He’s wrong about most of these toys, and the children are not shy about telling him so, often at volume. 

The pumpkin monkey can go back in the box. It’s weird, but despite its disturbingly wide eyes and the way those eyes find him no matter where he points its face, it is stuffed well, and doesn’t seem objectionable. He has no room to pass judgment on toys that the little mouse’s parents and grandparents have approved.

Well. Almost no room.

He reserves the right to judge the shit out of the demon beaver.

That one’s designation is easy to come up with because the object can be nothing else, despite the nub of a tail that is not the paddle a beaver should have. Someone must have amputated its paddle tail. It’s still a beaver, and straight out of hell. It’s smaller than most of the toys, gently rounded and plump looking, with pudgy everything… and an expression that is Awful.

It is filled with Wrongness and he doesn’t like to touch it.

The demon beaver is plastic all over, but somehow fuzzy. It makes the metal hand want to flinch back, and the first time he tries to pick it up, he drops it because the plates of his fingers itch on the inside from the should-not-be-fuzzy texture. Maybe someone dipped its hard, plastic hell-form into glue and then into felt shavings, a toyland tar-and-feather session that didn’t kill it but only made it stronger. However they made it, they made it feel as Wrong as it looks.

He hopes the little mouse doesn’t like this toy. The only tea he would serve this thing is made from holy water and the ashes of saints.

The Soldier considers the merits of taking on a personal mission during the small hours of the night when everyone is asleep. Maybe disappearing the demon beaver from the little mouse’s collection. No one would even notice a small fire behind the shed, and he’s sure the demon beaver is homesick so far away from hell.

He would be doing everyone a favor.

There is no way the General knows that the demon beaver is in the toy box, or even that it is in the dacha. The General would not stand for this. The General would approve of a tiny, preemptive bonfire in the yard. Send the demon beaver home before it could crawl out of the toy box in the middle of the night and…

The Soldier stands up and looks out the window. It’s been what people call a “beautiful summer day,” and the window is still open from earlier. Lace curtains in the breeze. Sounds of insects in the grass and trees.

He draws the Arm back and chucks the demon beaver as far out into the growing darkness of the forest as he can. Marks its path. Notes where it lands. Shuts the window.

Let the bugs deal with it. He’ll go out and burn the wretched thing later, when everyone is safely asleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

Demon Beaver: 

[violin screeching as camera zooms in: wree-wree wree-wree!]

From the world of the Hazy Shade of Winter series.