The Beast Within

The Changeling: Chapter Three

Weeks passed like this.

Each morning I would sweep the porch, eat breakfast, and play with Moira until Sampson appeared to greet me with a grin and say, "Fancy another day here?"

I always accepted his offer, though my mind screamed at me to leave.

It came to pass that Sampson no longer asked but expected me to stay. Less and less I was a guest, and more and more I was becoming a valuable member of the tavern.

Almost family.

Almost.

I had to tell Sampson that my stay was ending. I could not risk becoming a monster while under his care.

Would he be angry with me? Disappointed?

I thought of telling him I needed to find my sister, but I knew the kind man would surely mean to join my search, although I'm certain he believed my entire family was gone.

He wouldn't be persuaded into releasing a child back to the woods.

Every night the wolf threatened to spring forth, so I counted it a blessing to wake as a human. 

But each passing of the sun and moon felt like a march towards inevitable horror.

I'm anxious, the wolf in my nightmares whined. I need to taste blood.

I became tense around the family and guests. 

Any day, any hour now, the wolf promised.

With people parading in and out at all hours, someone was sure to see the transformation when it happened.

I considered it might be best to sneak away at night and leave everyone wondering about my disappearance. It was the safest option, I told myself, even if they thought poorly of me or worried because of it.

Sampson began to look at me in a peculiar manner, and it took me several days to realize it was the same sort of way Pa used to look at me.

He was imagining I was his son.

To combat his growing affection (and mine), I tried to place a wall between my heart and the man. I was terse in conversation and offered nothing beyond answers to questions I was asked. My nightmares began to include Sampson, and the look that would take hold of his eyes when I changed before him.

"Something's got hold of your mind," he said one day as we were chopping wood. "Might ease you to speak it."

"Just missing home," I replied stoically. "And my real family." 

He winced at my words, but the man was ever gentle.

"It'll get easier with time. Only time. You know, Josiah, it struck me that a good way to heal your past might be to find a new future." 

His eyes never left his work, as if he was afraid of what he was saying or how I might respond to it.

He placed a log on the chopping stump.

"Could be time to make an important decision. Put your roots in the ground, so to speak. And maybe it's not forever. Maybe it's a couple of years. Until you're ready, you know? To set off on your own."

"Put my roots in the ground?"

He halted mid-swing and set his axe down before turning to meet my eyes.

"Stay here. I've talked it over with Angela, and if you can believe it, she liked the idea. She likes the way you tend to Moira. Surely you've noticed our daughter adores you." He released a soft chuckle. "Every morning I hear that little voice. 'Jossy!'. Brings a smile to my face. And I like your company."