He anticipated the screams. They bubbled up from the throats of every one of his victims, silenced quickly as they came with a single slash across the neck. In those moments, he relished their terror. They’d no time to plead or pray, beg or bargain. When his prey was most vulnerable, he thrived.
But he did not expect the tears.
The others did not cry. There was no time. One second, perhaps two, and their lives were ended with a flick of his claws. Sometimes he felt almost guilty, for it seemed too easy—then again, who could stand against him? What man could hope to match his strength, his cunning, or his cruelty? None, for he was a god among them, seeking out their frailest and fiercest alike and felling both indiscriminately. The humans knew this; they feared him because of it.
So why the hell did they send him a child?
He could hear her sobs before he saw her. Pathetic gasps for air escaped her lips, mixed with tears she’d yet to shed and the ones that bled down her pale cheeks. The snow was knee-deep for her; she could walk no more than a few steps before stumbling, falling, disappearing into the white. His lips curled. No. This had to be a mistake. This tiny wisp of a girl could not be their latest offering. Surely they were not so desperate?
A bizarre feeling overcame him as he watched her struggle to stand. Even from a distance, he could see the way her limbs trembled. Whether from cold or from fear, he could not tell. All he knew was that this delicate human child had wandered into his domain, and he was furious.
He’d half a mind to kill her then and there. In that instant he yearned to lunge at her, knock her small form to the ground and tear her to pieces. He dug his nails into the tree he clung to. Even in his current form—admittedly far weaker and less able than his beast one—he could destroy her with minimal effort. And yet, something held him in place. He did not throw himself at this girl, though he could feel the carnal desire for her blood wearing at his willpower. No, he had something better in mind.
He allowed himself to drop from his perch, hidden away in the upper branches of the pines, to the snow-covered ground below. The icy outer layer gave beneath his weight with a sickening crack that echoed through the wood. Hearing a noise behind her, the girl froze. She did not turn around.
Well, won’t this be fun.“Are you lost, little maiden?” he called to her, dusting the snow from his clothes that hung, loose but not ill-fitting, around his frame. The girl had tensed at the sound of the impact, yet his voice seemed to set her somewhat at ease. She turned slowly to face him, cracking open one eye just enough to see the stranger who addressed her.
“I-I, um…” Her voice was small as she was, little more than a whisper swept away by the wind. Were his hearing not quite so sensitive, he would have missed it. “I just…”
She trailed off. The tears continued to fall down her cheeks. He wondered how long she had before her eyes froze shut.
“Oh, come now,” he said as he approached her. She bit her lip but made no sound. “I don’t bite. You seem to be in distress. I only want to help you.”
A few strides brought him within a foot of her. He looked down his nose at the child, smaller up close, as a familiar hunger began to gnaw at him. For the moment, he forced it aside. The little girl did not move from her position, though her eyes darted about like a caged animal’s. Despite this inconspicuous form he’d taken, she was not easily soothed. His suspicions grew stronger.
“What has you so upset? I’d hate to see a pretty little thing such as yourself shed such ugly tears,” he murmured. He hadn’t meant his words as a compliment, yet she seemed to respond as such. The ends of her lips twitched upwards in the faintest of smiles. At last she looked at him, and he could see that her cheeks were tinged a deep pink.
“My parents sent me out.” She buried her gloved hands in the folds of her skirt. Her teeth chattered with each word.
She went to lower her head again, but he stopped her, cupping her chin in his hand. He locked his eyes on hers, large and fawnlike, a green so light they appeared almost gray. She squirmed a bit but did not struggle. Judging by her reaction, she likely didn’t realize his true identity. Such was to be expected. Few if any humans knew of his talent for changing forms, and those who did rarely lived to tell his secret. Were she to look closely enough, she might see through his disguise—see the dark gold of his eyes, the way his sharpened nails bent a bit at the edges, or how his hair, thick and rough, resembled the untamed majesty of a wolf’s winter coat.
Poor, stupid little thing. She was too blind to understand, and it would be her undoing.
“Why did your mother and father send you off into the cold?” he asked. “Surely they know how dangerous this forest can be. You’ll catch your death all alone.”
At his words, the child stiffened again. She tried to pull her face away, but he held fast, his nails digging into her soft flesh. A few spare tears burst against his thumb.
“P-Please,” she begged, her voice reduced to a faint stutter. “I have to—I really must—”
“Go? Surely not so soon. For you see, my dear, I’m curious about you. Your parents set you loose to face the beast, did they not?”
More tears. The burning of their warmth against his skin was starting to annoy him.
“Do not lie,” he warned her, as with his thumb he brushed the tears away from her lower lip. She opened her mouth, but no words would come, so she stood silent, slack jawed and trembling. “Fine then. I offered you my help, but if you refuse—”
He’d just relinquished his hold, been prepared to wrap his hands around her pretty little throat and end her at last. Her shriek stopped him. The girl pulled away too suddenly, and she fell backwards into the snow and ice. White flooded her boots, found its way into her gloves and beneath the folds of her skirt and under the long sleeves of her cotton shirt. Had she any exposed skin, the large ice shards would have left their mark, though as it was he knew she would not go unscathed. Now, cold, bruising, and terrified, the child finally gave in. She let out a wail and began to cry harder than before. Her sobs, interwoven with hiccups and fits of coughing, caught in her throat.
“Ple…please, I just…” She choked on her words, each one more unintelligible than the last. After a few tries, she gave up, letting the tears flow as she shut her eyes, no doubt prepared for the inevitable.
It took a moment, but she did. Again, she cracked only one eye open, as if expecting him to become the beast and devour her the moment she looked his way.
“Why did your parents send you out?” he whispered. He eyed her simple clothing—suitable for indoor wear, perhaps, but hardly enough for extended exposure this time of year. She carried no items, no weapons. Whoever had her undertake this journey wanted to ensure she did not return alive. “Did they want to see you harmed?”
“They…they told me it was for the good of everyone,” the girl said. Her voice shook slightly. At least her sobs had softened. “They said that I’m too small. I’m not much use. It would be better to send me out, so that someone else could…”
She trailed off. He noted how she kept her head bent, her gaze focused on her hands, palm up in her lap. Her dread had not dissipated, yet she seemed so much more submissive. It was as if merely speaking of her parents reminded her of the task they’d assigned. How typical of a human child, he thought. So dependent upon her parents, so desperate for approval and praise that she’d walk blindly into the devil’s lair for reasons she could not begin to understand at her age.
“They lied to you.” He ignored the look of disbelief that flitted across her face. “Your sacrifice will do little if nothing at all to appease the creature that haunts these woods. You will die here, and it will be just a matter of time before the killings in the village begin again. Then another will take your place, make your same journey, die your same death. It’s a vicious cycle, my dear.”
He could see the gears turning in her little head, brows furrowed. In a few seconds, it all seemed to click, and he watched her eyes widen, his lips splitting into a grin that revealed a set of teeth too sharp to belong to a human. The girl’s face paled. Another tear escaped her eye and raced towards her trembling lips.
“That’s right, little one,” he said, kneeling down so that his face was level with hers. “You’d have done well to remember: there are no kind strangers in these woods.”
He wiped a tear from her cheek. The child said nothing.
Something was off in the village.
No smoke billowed from the chimneys on rooftops. No lanterns glowed, no candles gleamed. Not a sound could be heard in the whole of the place. Had someone noticed the scene, it would have been too easy to assume the beast had made a meal of the villagers and run off, leaving but a quiet decimation in his wake.
But that was not the case.
“What’s taking so long?” A small voice broke the silence, no more than a faint whisper. All of the people had gathered in the town center. Cloaked in blacks and greys, they huddled together for warmth in the darkness, no one daring to speak, save for one restless child. His question met with concerned murmurs from the other villagers as his mother pulled him closer.
“Silence!” A large man near the front held up his hands. “We must stay patient. It will happen soon.”
Everyone knew what they were waiting for: a sound unlike anything of this world, one of despair and unequivocal terror. The sound an animal makes when cornered, when injured and alone it makes one last desperate attempt for its life, only to be mercilessly slaughtered by an indifferent predator. This night, as with all that had come to pass, the villagers waited for a sound they now knew all too well. Only once they heard it would they know they were safe.
“It’s been hours,” another voice hissed from the back. His voice carried across the unsettled crowd. “We should have heard it by now.”
His words prompted unease from the others.
“Did he reject the offering?”
“It’s too late to send another, we can’t possibly—”
“E-nough!” The man at the front held up his hands. Even in the dark, his pale eyes glinted with a fire none could match. “This is not unprecedented. We are not unfamiliar with the creature’s ways, how he toys with our offerings. This is part of his plan. We must not turn against each other!”
“How are we to know, Charles?” the woman next to him argued. “She was so small, it seems impossible that he would be able to torment her for long. If he’s dissatisfied, then—”
“Then nothing,” Charles said. He shot her a look that demanded her silence, and she complied, clutching herself for dear life. Turning back to the crowd, he said, “In the event the offering is rejected, we shall send another. However, we must not do so until we are sure. It will simply encourage the beast to manipulate us into killing off ourselves.”
“Elisabeth is right,” another insisted. “She shouldn’t have lasted this long. If the girl’s been killed and he isn’t satisfied, he’ll come for us next! We have to send another.”
Elisabeth bit the edge of her thumbnail, knowing Charles was glowering at her. His rage would not be easy to avoid once the night was over. Meanwhile, the other villagers had resumed talking amongst themselves.
“We should send someone capable, lest the beast think we’ve insulted it—”
“And who would you suggest, Mathias?” Charles turned to a young man several feet from him. “Would you like to select one of our best men from the crowd and send him to his death? Or perhaps we should send you?”
Mathias approached. Though he stood a good head shorter than the leader of their village, he held his ground. “Why don’t you go, Charles?” he asked. “After all, it was you who decided to send the girl. Shouldn’t her father be the one to rescue her from the beast’s maw?”
Both Elisabeth and Charles stiffened. His features contorted with rage.
“Why you insolent—” He lunged at Mathias, who stumbled backwards into the crowd.
“No!” he snarled. Elisabeth flinched and released his arm. “We havesacrificedour daughter for the sake of this village! That he dares to question our choice, our authority shows he is too ungrateful to understand what we have done!”
At last he began to settle. His breathing slowed, and he stood, no longer restrained by his wife. All eyes were on him. The whispers had ceased.
“Since you all seem to doubt that our sacrifice was sufficient,” Charles seethed, “I will grant your requests. A second sacrifice will be made.” His eyes flicked to Mathias. “Take him.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
The village seemed to turn to ice. Neither Mathias nor Charles had spoken; both stared at each other with wide eyes, neither daring to believe what they’d heard. Beside him, Charles heard Elisabeth whimper. Just behind them stood a silhouetted figure, its features indistinguishable in the darkness.
“Hm, how curious. Did any of you think to check, perhaps, on the sacrifice you so graciouslysent me way?” The thing approached. As it withdrew from the shadows, moonlight fell upon its face. Two golden eyes watched the petrified villagers with subtle eagerness. A set of dark lips twisted upwards in a wicked smile.
Charles felt his wife go limp beside him. Mathias had fallen silent, as had all the others. With a tremor in his voice, he took a step towards the creature, cursing the trembling of his legs.
“We’ve given you what you wanted!” he pleaded. “Please, we’ve followed the precedent of our ancestors. For this month, you are to leave us be, you are appeased!”
The beast chuckled. “Oh, am I? Well, that’s a surprise. You see, I don’t quite feelso appeased.”
His gaze fell over the other villagers—men beside their wives, children clinging to the skirts of their mothers. His lip curled.
“You thought that by sending a child to me you would spare yourselves. Was that your plan?” he asked. His voice, though low, was enough to make those closest to him flinch.
“We—we believed that if—”
“Silence!” the creature roared, and Charles spoke no more. His heart beat painfully in his chest with each moment that passed. “You dare to disgrace that which your ancestors promised me! A hundred years of worthy sacrifice—your strongest warrior, your most learned historian. It seems I have been too lenient with you. You believe that you can offer up a calf for slaughter in place of a bull, and expect no punishment? There is a price to pay for such insolence.”
Looks of horror and prayers for sympathy fell on deaf ears as the beast took hold of Charles. Their cries turned to screams, and the villagers scattered, some to their homes, some trying in a blind panic to flee to the forest. It did not matter. Within a matter of minutes the land was quiet once more. Crimson stained its snowy blanket, glistening beneath the moonlight. And the beast, now satisfied, returned to the wood.
“Forgive me. I hadn’t wished to act so rashly. However, old promises need to be kept, no matter how much time has passed.”
The child said nothing. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, the beast watched the moon begin to set. In another few hours the sun would rise, bringing to light his crimes. Any who saw would know what had happened, and think twice before acting on their cowardice.
“I’m certain your parents never told you the truth of your ancestors’ promise, did they?” the beast asked. Again, his words met with silence. “Ah, no matter. They were old fools. In their minds it was better to sacrifice one innocent life, and bear the sins of that offering, than to die with any semblance of honor.”
The beast sighed. His gaze fell to the child before him. Her lips were turned downward, her arms folded neatly across her chest. Wrapped as she was in her little red cloak, she might appear to be sleeping to any passerby. Only her eyes shattered the illusion. The pretty green was now a dull and lifeless grey, concealed only slightly by her wilting lids and thick lashes. A loose blonde curl clung to her face, frozen by tears that would never fall.
This was how it must be. She was the lamb, he the lion. A sacrifice had been made, and unlike the selfish ones who had sent her to her death, he had every intention of keeping his promise. Still, he would not compromise himself. The beast bent low over the child, and with two fingers closed her eyes forever. She deserved better, he thought, than being set up to fail, an offering that would never suffice. A pup trying to fill the role of an alpha. He shook his head. At least now, in the forest’s embrace, she might know some peace.
Casting one final glance at the child, and then back towards her village, whose remains would be discovered come morning, the beast turned, and disappeared into the heart of the wood.
