The Beast, Part VIII


“Where am I?” the girl asked groggily. She blinked as one who’d been asleep a long time. “What am I?”

“Ah—well—you were a great hairy beast a few minutes ago—well, a big dead one, anyway—but you’re pretty, now—I mean, pretty human now…”

The girl held her hands in front of her face, rubbing the fingers together. She smiled.  

There was a rustle in the woods beyond the cavern’s mouth. The girl sat up suddenly, peering into the dark.

“Did someone follow you?”

“No, why would anyone—”

“Someone followed you. Look.”

One of the Prince’s soldiers was staring at them from behind a tree. He jumped up and fled back into the woods.

“A scout,” she hissed. “Or a spy. Or both. Well, Eli,” she said, gripping the shepherd’s shoulder and pulling herself to her feet. “It seems we only have one choice left for us.”

“And what might that be?” Eli gulped again. Something about the girl was far more fearsome than the Beast she’d been a few moment before. It was a nice sort of fearsome.

She leveled her glittering green eyes on his and said: “We run.”


Ramble back at me...

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