Day-Lynx (EDITING)

Fifteen Ways to Die

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"I am the Chief of this village, and I never teach any of you to kill without a reasonable purpose. What has this beast done to deserve death?"

The Day-Lynx stirs awake at the bouncing voices that slam onto his ears. When he opens his eyes, the darkness stifles him. The sunlight's warmth peeps through the gaps between the wooden walls, shedding some attention onto his chain-bound ankles. The silver items rattle once Rozell tries to lift his body, and he falls back to the slab with a thump.

It's a shame that what should've been a wicker bed now turns into a silver slab. The dead villagers' ghosts will surely be mad at this special treatment for Rozell.

The previous events soon rush back into his head, making his heart pump faster. As he tugs on the chain to free himself, a sharp pain stabs his badly cut ankles. His roar shakes the little funeral hut. The door opens with the slightest creak, revealing a dark-eyed man with the alertness of a serpent.

Didn't Oxen say they weren't supposed to take me back to Mountkirk?

"Opus had fallen because of this monster," Oxen's unsteady voice shuts up the crowd like thunder in daylight. "Isn't it enough purpose to kill it already? There's no need for more traditional approaches."

"At least this traditional approach still allows us to think with a leveled head, Mr. Oxen," the hoarse man who defended Rozell counters. "Grief is not an easy opponent. But it should never control our heads."

Rozell breathes in deeply when his voice becomes familiar in his head; isn't this Mountkirk's Chief? He was the one praying for Opus when they were about to settle him into his resting place.

Why is he here now?

"Naivety shouldn't also control yours, Old Chief."

The crowd soon bellows in rage. Some punches explode outside of the small hut, followed by loud thuds and the sound of ripped clothes.

Rozell shrinks farther in his uncomfortable position. He needs to get out of here as their disagreement continues.

Rozell tries to slice through the chain by slashing it against the silver slab, but the screech causes him to cringe. Gathering his remaining strength, Rozell climbs on his hind legs and tugs on both his front ankles. The chain still carves red marks on his fur. His grunt slowly turns into a furious roar. Heat grows inside him like a fireball ready to be set free.

I can get out of here. This chain must break at one point.

But before the silver can even crack, the hut's door slams open. The serpent-eyed man treads inside, each step looking as if he has to drag himself forward. Rozell snarls at him and bares his teeth, but the elder doesn't even flinch. Instead, he slowly approaches Rozell and stretches out his hand, like he's trying to touch a fragile vase.

Rozell's more than ready to chop through the Chief's fingers, but the pity in his eyes melt him. Soon, he stiffens like a statue as the older man brushes the top of his head. The burst of heat inside Rozell slowly ebbs away with the breeze.

"The gods had sent you down here. But sacred or not, no beast is going to die without a purpose." His alluring voice drowns any else outside of the hut.

It's the first time someone talks to me this way. He treats me like I have a conscience, not a mere shell without a thought.

Rozell feels at ease around the Chief. For the first time, Rozell feels accepted for what he is.

"The entire village knows you didn't kill anybody." The Chief retracts his hand away from Rozell after a while. "But some will still try to get to you as a settlement for their issues. That is why I will ask you to run."