Forest Of Beasts

Chapter 5: The Silver Cave

Gaston was not tired, even as he closed his eyes and feigned sleep. At least, his mind was not tired, even if his body currently protested otherwise.

There was that dim ringing in his ear, courtesy of the Beast's paw and his near fate in the river. Then there was another headache, which was more to do with his almost permanent state of confusion in these last few hours.

He wondered, constantly, why the Beast had not yet killed him, or else left him to die. It was annoying in so far that it presented a new problem, and activated a fairly useless part of Gaston's make-up; his conscience.

He hadn't thought he could feel anything close to that for such a creature, and his want to do something he thought he was so sure of was diminishing. He'd never experienced such uncertainty before in his life.

It was actually frightening.

He tossed over, pulling his cape further across his shoulders, protecting himself against the cold air. The Beast lay opposite him; it's huge form almost black against the night. It breathed slowly and unevenly, as if it might be having an unsettling dream.

It was absurd in itself. Beasts did not dream. Or did they?

Gaston realised he had no idea anymore.

He breathed out another in a long line of frustrated sighs, wondering how his mind had found itself thinking on such pointless things.

"Lord help me..." he muttered, and sat up, rushing a hand through his tangled hair. He thought he could run a marathon, if only to escape his thoughts. He didn't do well with thoughts at the best of times.

He glanced properly over at the Beast again, narrowing his eyes to better see the details of it's thick pelt and the way even it's sleep-filled breath promised strength beyond anything Gaston could ever hope to be.

It was still dangerous, it could still kill him. And...wasn't it night time he was supposed to finish it?

He looked bleakly up at the dark sky, half expecting something to answer his quiet turmoil. Of course nothing did, and he hovered in indecision once again.

Was it this feeling that had lured Belle into caring about the Beast? Did the Beast have this sense of humanity about him that would eventually bewitch himself in the same way it had caught her?

Gaston tried to remember; though the entire night at the castle had been a blur of chants and rainwater and an anger he'd never known before.

He did recall Belle's face, the way she'd looked into the enchanted mirror that night. He'd never forget that...

Gaston set his jaw, indecision turning back into anger. It was almost a comfort, familiar, a feeling of regaining his sanity, even. Yes, now he could think clearly again. He knew what he had to do...

Kill the Beast...

He crept close to the sleeping form of the Beast, looking about the ground for something he might use against it.

There was the stretch of a tree branch lying across from him, that hadn't been used to fuel the fire earlier.

He picked it up with hands that trembled more than they should have done. He ignored that, and stood up, raising the branch high above his head.

It was heavy, but his own limbs felt far heavier, as though he might be wading through mud to reach his target. It wasn't just the ache of recent exhaustion anymore, he knew.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the weird hesitation that had settled there.

But it wouldn't leave him.