𝖎. 𝔣𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔤 (𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢)

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RUSELM'S BESTIARY
CHAPTER ONE ─ FIGHT OF THE WARG, PART ONE

"EXCUSE ME, SIR, but could you spare a moment to talk to me? I only have a few questions, as I overheard you talking just a few moments ago to your good friend about the beast which you've encountered in the forest

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"EXCUSE ME, SIR, but could you spare a moment to talk to me? I only have a few questions, as I overheard you talking just a few moments ago to your good friend about the beast which you've encountered in the forest." Ruselm examined the man before him with a careful eye, successfully attempting to mask his inner conclusions about the plump traveler before him. Who was he to judge the newcomer, after all? It's not as if the vagabond had anything to indicate he was above this man and his companion. Ruselm was simply burning with curiosity, desperate to figure out what could be plaguing his fellow compatriots this time. Perhaps the beast would be real for once, and not a joke to which everyone laughed but him!

The man, he must have seen fifty winters with his sparse graying hair, turned to look at Ruselm with a glimmer of surprise in his sapphire eyes. He exchanged a wary look with the unfamiliar traveler beside him, presumably his friend. Ruselm predicted this to be true with how close the two were standing together. "Aye, I suppose I could," the older man nodded. "What do you want to know about that monster?"

Yes!

Ruselm could hardly contain the excitement flowing through his veins, sending pulses of secondhand adrenaline through his extremities. He tried to keep his voice low as he spoke, drawing out a fresh leather-bound journal that was perennially tucked under his arm. A white quill, taken from an eagle, appeared in his hand from seemingly nowhere as he poised it above the page, experimentally raising his eyes to the travelers in front of him while performing his miraculous balancing act. Around the three men, the local villagers went about their business as though they were invisible for they were quite used to Ruselm's incessant prodding, if not thoroughly annoyed by it already. He'd questioned nearly all the merchants and pestered every last man who claimed to see a shadow until they were blue in the face.

They didn't see any reason to bail the travelers out to keep them from his harassment, either.

"What did this beast look like?" Ruselm lifted his eyes without moving his head, pinning the travelers to the ground they stood on with his probing gaze alone.

The younger traveler with thick hair as brown as a doe's hide spoke up first before the older man could get a chance to answer. "It's no 'beast,' you ass. It's a monster, an abomination!" His voice was surprisingly soft and melodic, a harsh contrast to the foulness of his language and the venom with which he spat his words. It was like being cursed at by a rabbit. Mellow, but crude.

With a bow of his head, Ruselm rephrased. "What did this monster look like?"

"Shut up, Luvrad," the older man was speaking now, annoyance making his sharp features more jarring to behold. He crossed his arms over the indigo tunic which was a tad too big for his large form. "The monster was as overgrown as a horse, I tell you, with jaws that could stretch to fit around a boulder! Its teeth were yellow. The ugliest shade of yellow you can imagine, with black eyes to match. It looked like a wolf but it was far too large to be one."

𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐌'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐘   †   THE WITCHER (ORIGINAL)Where stories live. Discover now