The Beast

Chapter Twenty-Four

Fire poured through Ylvir's veins, joining the lead that had also taken residence, and the darkness inside him clawed for release. He gripped the body of his mother closely, growling relentlessly at the man before him.

"You killed her!"

The snarl hardly seemed to affect the man except for the slightest flinch. Otherwise, he was perfectly calm, frowning at the accusation.

"She was already dying," he defended coolly. "I merely sped up the process. It was a mercy, really. And correct me if I'm wrong, but you helped. Unwittingly, of course, but all the same. How awful you must feel knowing you were instrumental to your own so-called 'mother's death."

Ylvir's sharp teeth grated against each other as he held them back from snapping at the patronizing man, his fur and spines bristling with rage. But his red eyes still watered. He still shed tears for her death, and for his part in it.

"No, y-you killed her," his voice broke along with his heart.

Strivsky saw the creature's weakness. It still amazed him that it was able to reason like a person would. He almost hadn't believed it from the stories the old couple told him--he had thought them mad. To call such a creature their son? It was laughable! And yet, they believed it, and so did the creature itself, it seemed. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. They were fools, the lot of them. It almost made everything too easy.

"Come now. You know I am right. Would you have rather heard that infernal coughing for days on end, only for the same result? Of course not. It's better for everyone this way," he assured it, the creature avoiding his gaze. "Now, you are without a keeper, and I am without a charge. I'm sure we can help each other some way, eh?"

The creature froze, its rumbling coming to an abrupt stop, the silence more unnerving than the constant threat in the air. Ever so slowly that red gaze met his own, burning with harsher cold than the winter itself. Strivsky's bravado vanished as he felt the same fear as that first night creep upon him, his scar burning at the memory, reminding him of what the creature was capable of. Something had changed. The beast no longer looked like a lost pup--it had become a predator, one that was not only prepared to fight, but eager. There was hardly a trace of that bizarre reasoning left in its countenance now.

It dropped the dead woman's body finally, crawling over her slowly on all fours, stalking towards him with pure malice in its eyes. He backed away just as slowly, attempting to swallow through his fear-choked throat, only finding his mouth had gone dry anyhow.

The creature suddenly snarled again, lips curling to reveal gleaming fangs, ears pressed flat against its skull, sharp spines bristling, its wings and muscles bunched in preparation to leap. Luckily he was prepared for such a thing, he thought as he gripped the dagger's hilt hidden in his sleeve. If he was going down, he was going to make sure the foul creature joined him.

He pulled the dagger out, brandishing it just so the creature would not only see it, but see that he knew how to use it, and was unafraid to.

"Now, now," he tried to speak firmly. "Let's not put all my hard work to waste. You have no idea how awful it was helping those fools. Not only did I have to do farmwork, I had to listen to those miserable 'parents' of yours speak about Ylvir this and Ylvir that, every single day. I'll never understand how they could talk about you like you were an actual person--a son, no less. Disgusting."

This only served to agitate the beast. Strivsky wished he had curbed his tongue when the creature lunged for him. Reflexively, he swung out with the knife in such a way that would wound the beast, not kill it. He had been honest in that he didn't want his work to go to waste, and the creature's death would mean precisely that.