Fairest of All

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—The forest was quiet. Upon the forest floor lie trees of yesteryear, fallen in storms long forgotten. The seasons have been harsh, stripping away the bark and outer layers, yet rendering them all the more beautiful. They have the appearance of driftwood, twisting in patterns that remind Harry of seaside waves; even the colour of the moss is kelp-like. They are soft, damp, yet his fingers come away dry. Harry tilts his head upward, feeling his long hair tumble further down his back; the pines are several houses tall, reaching toward the golden rays of spring. Birdsong comes in lulls and bursts, the silence and the singing working together as well as any improvised melody. A new smile paints itself upon his lightly freckled face, rose-pink lips semi-illuminated by the dappled light.

A branch snapped, and the sound echoed throughout the forest. Harry's ears perked up at the sound and he immediately became alarmed. Looking up quickly, his eyes roamed the trees, searching for any sign of life. He didn't see any, but that didn't mean something wasn't out there. He began to walk slowly, listening out for any other noise, determining whether it be from near or from far. Another branch snapped, and he froze; he, then, heard a low growl. The sound was near, and Harry knew what to do; he did what he was taught to do: run. Harry immediately started to run, and he could hear the heavy steps and the deep breathing of something running after him. He looked back to see what it was, and his eyes widened. It was a Pard—a large spotted cat similar to that of a lion and a leopard. It was of an enormous size, as tall as a horse, but thicker and much more muscular, with dagger-like incisors, and a grisly snarl like a prolonged crack of thunder. It was often mistaken for a bear, with its huge size. This particular Pard was a mixture of a pale gray and russet brown with black spots on its thick fur and black-brown eyes. Harry wasn't scared, though. In fact, he was ready to fight.

Once he reached the river's edge, he stopped running. He turned around and stood strongly, waiting for the perfect time. He counted in his head. One—the Pard was picking up speed, snarling as it did so—Two—it was getting closer, nearly there—Three—it was time.

Harry raised his hand up high, and a red psionic energy twirled from his fingers. His forest green eyes glowed a vibrant red, and at that moment, everything stilled. The Pard froze in place, noticing the energy that danced from his dainty fingers. With all his might, Harry yelled loudly and the energy lifted the Pard into the air. He swirled a finger and the Pard spun in the air, the energy spinning it fast and making it dizzy. He laughed a childish laugh and then snapped his fingers abruptly, the Pard getting thrown into an tree. The Pard hissed in pain, and turned to look at Harry; its eyes had fear in them and Harry felt bad for throwing him into the tree. He walked to the Pard, smiling softly so it knew he meant no harm, and he gently placed his hands on its large body. Closing his eyes and concentrating, he began to take away its pain, his veins black. After a few moments, the Pard began to stand. Harry expected the animal to kill him, but it didn't. Instead, it leant down and licked a long stripe up his face, almost like a "thank you".