Page 6 of Stolen By The Beast
After a time, I decided she must be female. Unlike every other animal I’d observed in the wood, human males appeared to be the less vibrant of the species.
This particular human was covered in a ripped strip of green fabric accented with gold along her ears, neck, and wrist.
Her feet stuck in the mud, and her long, yellowish hair snagged in the branches as she meandered aimlessly.
It was obvious she didn’t know what she was doing or where she was going. Twice, she stumbled forward, barely catching herself before she fell.
Perhaps the most interesting thing was the way she muttered to herself the entire time. I edged closer to hear what she was saying.
“Stupid Telker!”
I scratched the sharp point of my jaw.
What is a telker?
Human language was easy enough for me to understand, but it had been many moons since I’d last come out to hunt.
Over the eons, different humans spoke in different tongues. In time, one language became more dominant, but even then, it changed. Since I didn’t care to watch humans as I once had, I was at a loss for some of what the tiny female said.
Every so often, she would pause, glancing in my direction. Her face would scrunch up, wrinkling the skin at the top, as if she sensed my presence.
She walked like a wounded animal, her movements slow and stilted. The darkness inside of me perked up with the thought, but still the desire to pursue her didn’t register.
Why does this human intrigue me?
Sounds in the distance alerted me that yet another set of her kind was nearby. Instantly wary, I stalked closer to the female. But for the first time since she’d entered the woods, the female moved with purpose.
Her mouth shifted upward in the familiar remembrance I had of this human emotion, but the noise she emitted didn’t sound barking at all. Rather, high-pitched and almost tinkling.
The scent of her terror abated, leading me to believe she must have felt the opposite—but what was the antithesis of fear?
Although I understood the emotion in others, it wasn’t something I experienced myself. My kind elicited horror, and we feasted upon it, but this didn’t bring us clarity of human feelings.
Without conversing with a human, I would never know. Up until this point, the idea hadn’t occurred to me, but I found myself wanting to speak with the female.
To learn the secrets behind the expression in her gaze.
The barking sound I associated with human satiation echoed from the small clearing ahead. This was more akin to what I recalled. Loud and raucous, but laced with something feral. The fur along my nape rose in warning.
Whether the female lacked the same primordial impulse or she simply ignored it, I didn’t know. Regardless, she tromped into the clearing, unafraid of her brethren.
Creeping closer, I moved to the side so I could still see her face. The expression that had once curled her lips upward was now turned downward, and the scent of her fear had returned.
The tiny female’s body trembled, and a growl worked its way up my throat, but I reminded myself that this wasn’t my fight.
Humans were not my concern—merely a quarrelsome source of food.
I willed myself to leave, to find different prey and then return to my darkness, but I remained rooted in my spot, some unknown reason tethering me there.
The other humans in the group rose, circling the female. Their height and appearance told me they must be male.
There were five of them in total, but only one would be needed to overpower the tiny female. Like the other male from before, I sensed the predators in these.
Crouching down on all fours, my claws dug into the earth, the soil anchoring me in place. It helped ground me from my urge to move forward.
But then the men yanked the female down near the fire.
She pleaded for them to stop. They ignored her, and the darkness inside of me rose once more—it wouldn’t be ignored anymore.
