The Beast

Chapter Nine

Birds chirped and whistled their beautiful melodies, critters bounded and skittered between rich brown trunks of bark, a warm breeze flying through them and the trees they made, making branches dance and leaves flutter, the morning sunlight that streamed through them sparkling with mirth.

It was a beautiful morning and Ylvir only wished he could enjoy it more. Dandy had fallen asleep on his shoulder, her head tucked beneath her wing, hours ago, and Ylvir felt the desire to do the same. Perhaps then he would be of a better mind to think up some plan. He felt he had been rather rash about leaving so soon without any direction, but he knew that it was a good thing he left all the same.

He stopped what had been hours of walking. Carefully, he lifted Dandy of his shoulder and set her atop a low hanging branch, nestling her against the tree's trunk. She stirred only slightly before settling down again. Ylvir smiled tiredly at the sight, then turned his gaze upward. He bit onto the strap of his pack, then set his claws into the tree's bark and scaled its length lazily until he settled on a branch that looked thick enough to support his weight.

He adjusted himself and the pack in front of him until he was quite comfortable, then closed his eyes. Lulled by the birdsong and the rustling of leaves, he was quick to slip into a restless slumber.

Dreams assuaged his mind—nightmares of his darkest fears. First it was fire, with a heat the could melt flesh right off the bones, surrounding him and caging him in from all sides. It was held aloft by torches, carried by faces he did not know as they stepped closer and closer, the heat increasing and it closed in on him. The people were worn and grim, with eyes full of rage and accusation. And then one smaller figure, more familiar than the rest, stepped forward with his torch held high, almost unrecognizable for the anger that contorted his features. It was the boy from the festival, and he pointed his torch at Ylvir, the flames kissing his skin with an unbearable, searing pain.

"Ya nuffin' but a monster, an' all monsters must burn," the boy screamed at him, and with his cry, he was joined by the others, the flames rising with their voices until all Ylvir saw was fire.

Until out stepped a dark form, a beast of shadow. The flames disappeared as it terrified the torch-bearers, ripping them to bloody shreds with sharp claws, tearing into them with terrible fangs, piercing them with a sharp gaze the same color as its bloodlust, all the while they screamed and pleaded and wailed against its onslaught, unable to do any more. And then he saw his parents amongst them, suffering the same fate. His father's dark eyes were wide with fear, his limbs raised in useless defense as the creature mangled them and left them bloody and tattered until they collapsed and those fearful eyes became empty and lifeless. And then his mother—his angelic mother—her blue eyes filled with tears, golden hair streaked with the rusty blood of his father that stained her clothes as well, and her face set in anguish. She did not even have the time to scream before the beast obliterated her with its arsenal of teeth and claws and spines and horns, until all Ylvir saw was a mist of blood.

And then the creature faced him. It towered over him, a deadly mass of muscles and sharp bits, its wings spreading to surround him in near complete darkness and a powerful rumbling filling his chest that originated from the dark form. In the darkness, its red eyes shone brightly, peering into his soul as he waited for the creature to end him like the rest.

And then the rumbling heaved and transformed into a wicked laughter as the creature's lips parted to reveal gleaming, bloodied fangs in a twisted grin, and Ylvir discovered the rumbling had been coming from himself the whole time as he laughed as darkly as the shadows that completely surrounded him, swallowing him whole.

A small pain bloomed on his forehead, and he emerged from slowly from the dreaded darkness. Another sharp stinging sensation in the exact same spot brought him jerking out of the dream, huffing and puffing like a billows, only to have his sight suddenly take in a chicken's head that was far too close to his own.