The Beast Within

The Changeling: Chapter Seven

Sampson hunted me all day.

I kept myself hidden, but never strayed from his side. In my mind, I was screaming, demanding myself to change back into a boy.

I must talk to him, I have to tell him of the danger his daughter is in and the creature living under his roof.

I wanted to believe Sampson would hear my words and trust them, but I knew it was more likely I would be laughed at.

Or worse.

The thought crossed my mind several times, that I should use this time as the wolf to search for Moira, but I didn't have the heart to leave Sampson on his own.

We spent two agonizing days circling each other. I was never seen by the man, though he heard the occasional snap of twigs under my paws when I moved carelessly.

The vengeance that filled his eyes in those moments still haunts me.

Desperation and fatigue overtook him, showing in the dark circles under his eyes and the sluggish pace of his movement. He hadn't returned home for sleep and took barely an hour's rest each night. He called my name until his voice strained into a rasp.

He'd brought a leather pouch into the woods and drank from it until it flattened. I knew it was not water, but ale, though the liquid no longer made him happy. Instead, it threw him deeper into sorrow, and his clumsy stumbling became a threat to his safety. He placed every last trap he owned throughout the woods, and in his drunken stupor promptly forgot where each hazard lay. The ground was littered with iron teeth, and I feared it was a matter of when and not if his foot stepped onto one.

I heard him mumbling to himself, cursing the wolf and his own ignorance. Sometimes he shed tears over my disappearance.

Over a short time, I saw him wither into a broken man. It took me too long to recognize that he was in mourning. He'd lost another son, and the hole inside of him was growing. On the third morning, he fell to his knees, defeated and spent of his last drop of strength.

"S'not fair," he slurred to the woods, "not fair...not fair...not..."

His chin lowered to his chest and there, kneeling on the forest floor, he fell to sleep. I watched him twitch and mumble, but I didn't dare approach, not even when the axe slipped from his hand.

But then his body lurched forward, and his face was headed straight for the jaws of a trap. Fearing his skull would be crushed, I darted to his side and grabbed his shirt with my teeth. Sampson groaned as I dragged him to safety, but I couldn't tell if he had woken or was fighting in his dreams.

It wasn't until I laid him on a bare patch of ground that I saw his eyes were open. He stared up at me, delirious and horrified, and his mouth curled into a hateful scowl.

"You..." he whispered. With surprising speed, his hands reached up and grabbed the fur on my neck. He pulled hard until I shook loose and fell back onto my hind legs. His hands lazily searched for his axe and were rewarded with air. He sat up slowly and the act caused him obvious pain.

"Killed my boy. Killed him..."

I'm not certain why I did it, but I drew close and gave a gentle lick on his face. I suppose I was trying to comfort the man. Sampson's head rolled back.

"Go on. Kill me, too."

I licked his hair.

"That all you got?"

Sampson swung at my face and missed by miles. I backed away and laid on the ground, keeping my focus on his movements. He stared at me for several moments and tried to comprehend the situation before him.