Shadow Beast

I. Creature of the Night

A patch of twinkling lights engulfs the valley below in a faint glow. From high on the overlooking cliff, the beast scrapes its claws against its rocky perch and watches in anticipation as, one by one, the lights vanish, until there are but five remaining. Four of these lights crown the towers at each corner of the wall around the village. Beyond the wall is a thick, sinister forest, where the villagers believe a terrible creature lurks in the night. The beast throws back its head and releases a terrible, deafening moan into the silent night. The fifth light, that of a small cottage in the heart of the town, dies immediately.

None of the sixteen watchmen can see as the dark creature slinks down the steep side of the mountain, making its way without a sound, into the depths of the forest below.

"Is it going to get us, Mama?" a little girl calls out into the quiet, dark house from her bed.

A silhouette crouches by the side of her bed, making the rotting floor creak. Lumber has been scarce in the past years, after a group of lumberjacks vanished for weeks, only to be returned by floating down the river, face-down, with their faces scarred almost unrecognizably and their stomachs gone.

"Not tonight, my dear," the mother whispers, placing a cold, arthritic hand on her young daughter's forehead. Years of sewing clothes as the village's only seamstress have worn down one hand already and formed permanent callouses on the index finger and thumb of each hand. She kisses her daughter's forehead and tries to ignore the second faint howl.

The little girl clutches her mother tighter, afraid of the creature who is said to steal children in the night.

"Do you want me to sleep with you tonight?" the mother asks.

The small girl nods and replies, "Please, Mama," keeping her voice low as to not draw the beast's attention.

In the forest, the shaggy brute stalks its prey. A single deer searches for cover as it senses every other animal's fear of the creature in pursuit of a midnight snack.

"Mama," the little girl murmurs into the darkness, "what is the creature?"

The mother holds her daughter as she replies, "You've heard the story before, haven't you?"

"No. You never told me. You just said that we have to stay quiet at night so the creature doesn't come take us away."

The mother sighs. "Alright. I guess you should know." She takes a breath, not fully wanting to enlighten her daughter on such a dark subject. "Some say the creature is a giant bear with fangs a foot long."

The beast drops into a crouch, preparing to strike down the helpless deer.

"Others believe it is a panther, with claws sharp enough to slice clean through bone."

The beast leaps at its prey, tackling it and clamping its muzzle on the deer's neck, breaking it with its strong jaw.

"And some think that it's a lone, black wolf, bigger than any of its kind, with a taste for human blood."

As the small house grows colder with every word, the beast enjoys its snack, biting down with impossibly long fangs and ripping its stomach with sharp claws. It finishes, and it is not satisfied.

"So, which is it?" the girl asks, voice small and innocent.

"Nobody knows for sure. Anyone who's witnessed it has turned up dead weeks later."

The child speaks not another word, but lays awake through the night, worried that she might someday witness this creature and not live to tell the tale.

The beast turns towards the four lights of the village and the humming of breath that only this creature can hear from so many miles away. It bounds through the silent, lifeless forest, ignoring the animals that venture out of their hiding places in its wake. The massive creature pauses when it sees the clearing and the wall around it. It licks its teeth and paces along the tree line, just far enough in the shadows to pass unseen by watchmen.

"Mama," the girl says, disturbing the unnatural silence once again, not satisfied with the answers to her question before. "Has the creature ever gotten past the wall?"

"Not to my knowledge." The mother opens her eyes to stare into the wide, blue irises of her daughter. "Sleep now, Bretta. I will not let the beast get you tonight."

"But what if it does?"

"I promise that it won't."

Bretta shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath to calm her racing heart. The blanket feels itchy and the straw bed less comfortable than usual tonight. The walls groan when hit by a faint breeze, and Bretta wonders if this house could protect them from the creature, if it got past the surrounding barricade.

The beast stares down the one weak spot in the towering cinderblock barrier. It waits for the watchmen to walk the other way and sprints straight at the wooden door.