The Beast is Hunting

[Scaramouche Fandango]

Scary stories around a bonfire- everyone's favorite. Including Half Truth's.

[imgleft]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/image ... uncert.png[/imgleft] The green kimeti's mouth was a twisted smile. Shadows flickered over her face, twisting it in the light, as she stepped forth to tell a story. "I've got one," she said. "It's about something... bad." Half Truth cleared her throat and began.

"Once there was a kin who witnessed a murder.

twist twist twist and there it goes, hear the crunch of breaking bones

They didn’t like to talk about it.

Do you see how it flops about? Like a puppet!

They were very young when they saw what they did- too young to understand, too old to know any better. They had been entrusted to the care of three older kin- “Look after them,” their mother had said, before she went off to hunt. The three smiled sweetly, but as her retreating back disappeared, they ignored the little kin they had been told to look after. They had their own plans and ambitions, and caring for the child wasn’t one of them. The kin was left to their own devices and so they followed their caretakers around, always three steps behind and never really included.

It’s dead. You killed it.

Eager to be included, they followed when they were told to stay, followed to a clearing- a hollow where creatures crossed down to the water’s edge. In this hollow was a trap; in this trap was a beast. A mewling, piteous beast. The older kin were thrilled to see such a fine beast in their trap, and they congratulated each other on a successful hunt. Their very first.

Back! Get back! I- I have a family!

They were swift, at least.

No!

Twist and crunch- and a scream, and for the first time, the trio looked at the little kin. The kin could not put words to their anguish, and they screamed like hellfire while their caretakers tried to soothe them with honeyed poison. “We need to eat,” “we need to learn, for winter is coming” “it’s how the world works.” What rot. The kin didn’t believe them for a moment, for they saw them for what they were. They had no sympathy in their hearts for the little creatures; they were no better than beasts themselves. The kin continued to shriek until their mother returned. Though they pounded their hooves on the ground and wept hot, furious tears, their rage was impotent and for the most part, ignored. The kin couldn’t understand why nobody else was outraged. Their heart grew bitter as they dreamed of revenge, then cold as they fell into despair.

it’ll all be over soon

Nowhere was clean, nowhere was safe. The kin tasted blood no matter where they went; everybody’s soul was stained. Their sins crawled on their back, hordes of black flies dripping from their flanks and mouths. The kin couldn’t look at them, couldn’t stand to be around them. The world was mad, and there was naught they could do. They wandered into the swamp, never to be seen again.

Have you seen my son? My sister? My parents? No?

The night was dark when the kin ran away; they ran and ran and ran until the nights were bright and the air was cold. In the light of the full moon, they fell to the ground, sides heaving. They retched and roiled and wept for forgiveness- but from whom or for whom, they could never say. Their heart, which had grown cold and hard, changed within them. It was no longer the heart of a kin, but the heart of a beast. Their body writhed, wracked with pain, and they cried to the moon.

Is there no kindness? No mercy?

Their throat was raw, and the cry became a howl. The kin’s eyes burst with pain, and when they could see again, they were no longer a kin.

What is mercy?

Their teeth stretched and grew, enamel scraping against itself as sharp palings emerged. A drooling, slavering monster rose, and the monster was hungry. Leathery paws splashed an ominous staccato through the swamp; a wet nose flared to catch the scent of the beast’s prey. Fair was fair in the beast’s mind; what had known reason and mercy and love was stripped away. They would hunt. They would feed.

hungry. hungry.

At some point, the beast collapsed and shrunk into itself. The kin awoke with no memory, just a dream of racing through the swamp, lighter than air. A joyful dream. One they would love to have again. And again. And again.

Nothing is wrong. Go back to bed.

That winter was a lean one, the leanest in recent memory. Rumors flew in hushed whispers; rumors of disappearances, rumors of flashing teeth and silver fur. Somewhere in the woods, the kin slept well. The beast was fed. But rumors flew, like geese on the wing- and eventually, as these things do, the legend arose.

“They say that on cold nights when the moon is clear, the Beast waits in the woods. Clever as a kin, and walks in kin’s shape by day- but by night, they are a Beast, with fangs and claws to rip and tear. Nobody knows what the Beast looks like, nor what their kin-shape is; the Beast could be anybody, anybody at all! They don’t even know they’re the Beast- how could they live with themselves, knowing that? No, they can’t know. That’s what makes them so dangerous. Might not just be them- could be anybody. You know what they say- "even a kin who is pure in heart and sleeps all through the night may become a Beast when the red leaves fall and the autumn moon is bright.”

“Who says that?”

“I dunno, it’s a saying. It’s what folks say.”

“Yeah, but how does anybody know? It’s… it’s not like the Beast leaves survivors.”

“Sometimes, you don’t need survivors to know what happened. Not when... not when you've seen what I've seen. Not when you've seen that.”

“And when you are hunting for your family, the Beast is hunting you.”

She stepped back, smiling at the chills in everyone's eyes. That'd teach 'em to ask her for a scary story!