The Beast

Chapter One

"Ylvir, where are ya?" he heard his father call.

"'M in the kitchen," he called back whilst standing as tall as his small stature allowed, balancing on the tips of his clawed toes atop a stepping stool as he tried to peer out the window that was so starkly dusty in the nearly pristine kitchen. Through the grime, he could vaguely see children around his own age kicking a leather ball between themselves outside. He had been in this position for some time now, watching the game, longing to join them.

His ears twitched when the familiar thudding his father's heavy work boots sounded towards him, approaching with an urgent cadence, yet he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the game.

"Get down from there," his father's voice was as rough as the arm that ripped him away from his view. He wriggled in his faith grip for only a moment before he was set down again much more gently, looking up to meet stern eyes.

"Why can't I go out an' play wif t'other chil'ren, Da'?" he asked sullenly.

"Yer not like other children Ylvir," his father replied, a weathered finger pointing past Ylvir, out the window. "Them kids would eat ya alive."

"Ma says ya can't judge someone before ya know 'em," Ylvir retorted.

The ragged farmer's tanned face frowned deeply before crouching down to his son's level. "Ye shouldn't judge someone before ya know 'em, but that don' mean ya can't."

Ylvir averted his gaze, murmuring, "They wouldn't eat me alive."

The older man harrumphed. "Lookatcha. Y'got feathers an' fur an' scales an' spines. Y'got claws an' sharp teeth an' bloody red eyes. Ya don't look like those children out there. No, y'look like a nightmare come to life."

Ylvir pulled at said feathers self-consciously. "Mum says I'm soft."

His father shook his head, standing and muttering, "Yer mum's the soft one."

Ylvir bristled at the words. "Ya wrong about mum, and ya wrong about those chil'ren!"

Ylvir darted out of the room and through the cottage door faster than his father could react. He could barely hear his father's shouting as he focused on the children. He slowed as he got closer, doubts taking over. What if his father was right? What if they hated him and made fun of him? And then he remembered his mother's kind words, the same ones he recited to his father. These children deserved as much of a chance as he did.

He approached them with new confidence, announcing his presence when he was close enough. "Hi! Can I join ya?"

The flurry of activity came to a sudden stop, the ball rolling slowly as the dusty and sweaty young girls and boys faced him and froze, their eyes widening in terror as they took in his horrific appearance. The reaction confused Ylvir more than he ever had been in his life.

A small, slight girl's shriek broke the stillness, which quickly became a chorus as she was joined by other girls and boys.

"Monster, monster! It's goin' ta eat us!"

Ylvir winced, sensitive ears pulling back as much from the piercing shrieks as the sharpness of their accusation.

"No! I won't eat ya. I would never!"

A rather large boy picked up a stone and threw it at Ylvir, who was too stunned to dodge it. He let out a yelp as the stone thwacked against his skull. He vaguely felt a warm trickle slither down his face from the point of the wound, and when he tentatively put a small, clawed, paw-like hand to it, he was horrified to see dark red liquid. Blood.

The distraction was all the vulnerability the children needed, seeing him no longer as a terrifying monster, but as a weakened animal. Some picked up stones like the first and other reached out for broken branches, yelling as they charged at him. Ylvir scrambled to get away, but the reaction was too late, as they fell upon him with weapons in hand.