Buried In Thorns

Once Upon A Time

In a place, neither here nor there, but somewhere farther than the mind could view, roamed a ferocious beast in a cold and misty forest. Where its feet touched the earth, prints laid bare to its grand weight and form, where it moved the earth gave way for its path and any that followed behind it, laying down the foundation of where would one day be known as a road to one of the most magnificent kingdoms in all the lands.

With each step, its bloodied claws digging into the dirt, only two sounds could be made out. The sound of branches and twigs giving way without a fight, and the enraged snarls that ripped from its heaving chest. Nothing with a pulse and keen senses dared move or even breathe, all trembled in their shelters, covering the young who had enough knowledge to know that all things born did not always live long enough to give birth to anew.

As the beast raged at what was no longer there, stomping and clawing at anything that stood in its path until a trail of destruction and fury trailed behind it, soaking the ground in pain and rage so brutal that where blood was shed never again would life grow. A testament as long as time. Those brave enough to have the best insight kept their eyes on the predator that did not hide, did not lurk within the shadows despite its wounds. Small and nonthreatening, but with the wails that left its mouth, fangs glistening in the darkened night caused doubt.     

But what the creatures of this forest did not understand, with all their senses and instincts, was that this mishappen animal, a predator in its right, was the mutt of its litter. So different, so monstrous that at first sight, its own blood had turned on it with the purpose of removing such a smear from the world, without putting into account just how much fight it would put in order to live another day.

A winner in its own right, but rejected by all who crossed its path, it continued on in solitude with a rage that chilled over time. Monstrous and intelligent, it watched all those who watched it back, learning the dance of courtship, testing and removing those who responded poorly. Within this time period, another predator  hunted and watched as well. This creature was no strain to the eyes, but rather a curious form of vulnerability to those with fangs, fur, and feathers. With its own tricks and skills, it mocked and played with those who came after it, watching the fright and shock take over with gleaming eyes. When the two creatures came together, the monstrously formed one, and the odd one, a strange courtship began and the night sky was painted red. Fur and flesh dropped to the ground, limbs and hatred, but also something else, something so strong that both were forced to stop at the reflection within the other's gaze.

Two distinctly different creatures, wounded and bloodied, but with eyes that gleamed with something that would make the world shudder in the years to come.

It was daylight when the monstrous creature walked away from the odd creature, so different from itself and yet so similar that its deformed shape melted away to something just as odd, but not completely unfamiliar.

It was this unfamiliar form, with furless limbs and a solid shape that made its way out of the forest, steps not as heavy, but just as impactful. With each step taking it further and further away from the odd creature it now resembled that crackled into the day with bloodied lips until its last breath wrapped itself around the greatest predator of the forest and ingrained itself so deeply that nothing could rip it away.

This monstrous creature, with its new form, did as it knew and watched, learned and courted, finding new experiences as time went on, but one lesson remained, engraved so deeply within its being that no one could rip it off like flesh or fur. It would be a lesson that he would pass on to his blood as the sun set and night arose.

'One will accept you, one will deny you, but let it be the blood of foe that you take or be burdened by your own fate.'

It was this saying that passed through the lips of father to son, always father to son, and always were the words so true that within this bloodline, another saying came to be, one that no one spoke of out loud but that lingered in the hearts of those monstrously deformed.

'Who would ever dare to tame a beast?'

AN:

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