The Beast: A Wolf Point novella

The Beast

  A Wolf Point Novella

  by Kate Spofford

 

  Copyright © 2014 by Kate Spofford

  Cover design by Kate Spofford

  Cover photograph by Gary Kramer (public domain)

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  First eBook Edition: August 2014

 

  -1-

  I am known as the Beast of Gèvaudan, but my tale begins in a town called Soissons in the north of France.

  By birth I was the seventh son of a seventh son, and of no fortune. We lived on the edge of a great forest, far from town, due to my parents’ nature. Papa was a hunter and a drinker and made his living selling furs and winning fights. Maman was just as ruthless, and should any woman look my father’s way, she was wont to gouge out the lady’s eyes. It was best to live separately.

  I grew up knowing our nature, as my brothers all grew into theirs well before me. Each brother was born a year apart, and each year another would turn wolf and begin spending nights hunting with Papa and Maman. Soon the forests could not support so many hungry mouths, and Papa sent my brothers out to find their own families. We had many acquaintances, other wolf packs, and if any of those had daughters they competed for a wife. There were few females among us. Only the eldest two brothers, John-Pierre and Allain, found wives in this way. The others were forced to look for wives among the girls in town, and convince them to turn wolf and live away from their families, as human women could not carry a wolf child without death for both mother and baby. They had luck with young orphan girls but few others.

  When the time came for my change, I was ready. I had practiced hunting since I could walk, and had helped Papa flay the skin from many a beast. I had learned to move silently through the forests and to sense prey without using the sense of sight. Papa had always been impressed by my abilities, for even as a human my senses rivaled those of my wolf brothers.

  On the eve of my thirteenth birthday, I could hardly sit still for all my excitement. John-Pierre and Allain now lived several cities away, but had returned for this night to welcome me into the pack. All the men laughed and wrestled and filled our simple house with so much energy Maman commanded us to go outside. She would not join us.

  The moon that night was full and bright. “It is a sign,” Papa remarked. “Our little Georges will be a powerful wolf.”

  “Not more powerful than me,” boasted Allain. He shoved me down and laughed.

  “Nor me,” said Bernard, the brother closest in age to me.

  We did not eat the evening meal but instead began hiking into the forest. This was not so different from when we hunted, except now the trail took us up and up to a high point of the hills surrounding the town of Soissons. With no food for energy, I tired quickly, but did not complain. I felt itchy and achy.

  “Are you afraid, brother?” Bernard asked.

  “Not at all,” I told him. As I spoke, my teeth cut my lip, and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. Thus, as we entered a large clearing where the grass shone blue from the moon, I convulsed and turned.

  All the men of my family turned to stare at me: Papa, John-Pierre, Allain, Jean-Baptiste, Martin, Etienne, and Bernard. Fourteen eyes glinting in the moonlight in that way only animal eyes do.

  I growled in return.

  Quickly, they turned and set upon me. I locked teeth with Allain first, and ruthlessly tore out his throat, his taunts still echoing in my mind. Standing over his body, I faced the remainder of my brothers, who had backed off and stood with tails drooping behind my father. Papa, I knew now, was the alpha of our family pack. Allain had been his second. Now, with Allain’s death, I would be Papa’s second.

  I had been the last all my life. The smallest, the youngest. While it was true I had been my father’s favorite, I was tired of being under anyone’s command.

  I lunged at my father.

  He was a full-grown wolf, and I just a boy. My wolf was not as large as his in size, yet I found that to be my advantage. I was quicker, and could sense his attacks before they came. Mere minutes passed, and then I had him by the throat.

  A chorus of voices entered my head

  Do not kill him, brother

  You have won the fight, death is not necessary

  But another voice commanded otherwise.

  I cannot live with this shame.

  As my father gurgled his dying breath, I turned to face my brothers.

  -2-

  I should have been alpha then. I should have earned their respect.

  Instead, they refused my leadership.

  Their minds became foreign to me, and as one, my five remaining brothers turned on me. I might have stayed and fought had I not been confused by this turn of events. Instead, I ran.

  I made my way down the mountain, to the cabin where I had grown. There I became once again the boy my mother had raised. Her wails of anguish came from the common room, where she wept upon the rough-hewn floor.

  For but a moment I stood there, observing what I had done, and then I left.

  -3-

  As a wolf I made my way south. The forests were teeming with wildlife at that time, and wilderness took up more of the French countryside than did villages. I stayed well away from places of civilization. My wolf mourned for a pack, and though I occasionally came across other wolves in the woods, these wolves were shy and sensed something different about me. My father had never been able to work with animals, making him ill-suited for farm work or blacksmithing. Horses shied from him, and cows did not produce milk.

  Now I experienced a true loneliness. After a long, cold winter, I made my way closer to the towns. I recalled a family Papa had spoken of, the Loupes, who lived in the eastern Gèvaudan region. The alpha of this clan was called Abelard.

  I observed this family with great caution. There were not allies of my father like many others, but rather separate. Papa often hoped to convince Abelard to give up a daughter for one of his sons, and join our packs, but Abelard had never agreed.

  Abelard, I soon discovered, owned a popular tavern in the village square. I dared not approach this place directly. He and his family lived far from town, however, in a modest home near the forest edge. The trees near there reeked of their marks. Finding a system of caves on a nearby hill, I watched this family go about their business. Abelard’s two daughters were indeed beautiful. One had hair the color of honey, while the other wore hers in a long, dark braid. They and their mother did the chores of the household as well as some duties at the tavern.

  Abelard also had five sons. The oldest had thirty years and lived in a separate building with his wife and their two children. Papa had told us about this marriage several years ago. “The Loupe family breeds with their own,” he had said distastefully, and I found that this wife did indeed share the likeness of her cousin with the dark braid.

  There was little I could do to find favor with this family. They had few visitors and kept to themselves. One day, I was startled from a nap in my cave by footsteps approaching. Two naked youths not much older than I blocked the entrance. By their scent I knew them to be Loupes, and I growled deep in my throat at the intrusion.

  “Face us as a man, stranger,” the elder boy commanded.

  I rose to my feet but remained wolf.

  The younger boy spoke. “Maybe it�
€™s just a normal wolf.”

  The elder scoffed. “Can’t you smell the stink on him? I said turn human, wolf.”

  Reluctantly, I did so. I had not been wolf long enough to become comfortable with my nudity, and I stood covering myself as best I could.

  “Look at him,” said the younger. “He’s smaller than I am!”

  “I am Fallon,” said the older boy. “This is my brother Lucien. Pray tell what are you doing on our land?”

  “I am outcast,” I mumbled. “I mean no harm.”

  Fallon raised his eyebrows. “No? Then you won’t mind moving along?”

  “I have no place to go.”

  “You cannot stay here,” Fallon said. “Your presence is unwelcome and a threat. You have two days.”

  Without another word, Fallon and Lucien turned and began walking away. Within two steps, they had both turned wolf and disappeared.

  That night I did in truth leave the cave. I did not, however, leave Gèvaudan.

 

  -4-

  In all my watchings, I had found a young girl of great beauty who constantly tore my attention from the wolf family. She had long red hair and spent her days in a field, tending cattle, sitting, dancing, singing… I watched her from afar, but wolf eyes see long. I was entranced.

  One day I decided I would hide in the tree she often sat beneath during the hottest part of the day. It was now late spring and the sun had become lovely and hot during the day, though still chilly at night. For clothes I stole from a neighbor’s clothesline, and before dawn I turned human, then donned the pilfered garments and shimmied up the tree. A wide bough made for a fairly comfortable seat, and I waited for the young girl to arrive, as she did every day, at an hour past daybreak.

  The bough had by then become less comfortable, the bark of the tree digging into my skin even through the breeches I had stolen. The sight of her, however, made me numb to these small hurts. She drove the cattle along with the help of her little dog. She wore her usual green dress that day, with an apron.

  Unsurprisingly, her dog barked once at the tree, then trotted off to lie in the grass. She watched me constantly, but refused to come closer despite the girl’s words of encouragement. The cattle as well spread themselves far from the tree.

  From my perch, I had a lovely view of the girl’s décolletage. This alone kept me quiet for a long time. Then, the pleasantness of the weather and the peacefulness of the view lulled me to an unexpected slumber.

  I woke up when the ground hit me.

  Once I finally regained my hearing – my ears rang from the blow to my head – all I heard was, “Oh, my... Oh, my... Oh, my...” Over and over.

  Once I could see again, I saw the red-haired girl’s face looming over mine.

  I blinked at her and tried to smile.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked, wringing her hands. “Oh, you’re bleeding!”

  When I touched my fingers to my forehead, I felt a bit of slippery blood and a bruise welting up. “I feel fine.”

  “Well, you gave me quite a fright!” she huffs. “How long have you been up in that tree?”

  I knew better than to tell her. “I don’t remember... I fell asleep there.” I blinked my eyes dopily and grinned up at her. “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

  She folded her arms. “You fell asleep in a tree?”

  My dumb act wasn’t working. Inching myself up on my elbows, I said, “I sleep in the trees. It’s safer that way. You know, because of wolves.”

  “Oh, that’s rich. Wolves wouldn’t attack people.”

  “No?”

  “Not in the spring, anyway. Perhaps in the dead of winter, when game is scarce... Might attack a sheep, or a cow, but not a person. You are... not from here, are you? Your accent is a little strange.”

  “I’m from the north,” I said vaguely. “And wolves do too attack humans. I’ve seen it.”

  “Perhaps northern wolves attack humans. Do your parents sleep in trees also, or are you travelling alone?”

  “I’m... an orphan.” I glanced up at her to see her reaction. Would she pity an orphan, or sneer at one?

  She sighed. “That would be the case. You’d best move along then. My parents certainly do not need another mouth to feed, nor an apprentice, nor is my father likely to see you as a good match for me.”

  “I was here first,” I said.

  “Ha! My family has been using this pasture for three generations, and I’ve never seen the likes of you here before today.”

  I stand up, wobbling a bit. I had fallen a bit harder than I’d let on. “And who’s to say I’d be wanting you for a wife?”

  “It does not matter if you want me, for I do not want you, some penniless orphan who sleeps in trees because he’s stupid.”

  “Wolves eat people!” I said loud enough for a flock of sparrows in the tree to flutter off, and for the dog to perk up its ears and issue a bark. My fingers curled into fists. I’d not had much experience with dogs – we had always stayed far away from them, for when we did get near, most dogs tried to attack us.

  Most dogs who came near us ended up dead.

  “Be gone, stupid boy!” the girl said, and she sat down with her arms crossed and called to the dog. “Come here, Bebe. Come!”

  How had I ever believed this girl to be beautiful? She was an ugly sack of skin, her hair the color of unripe tomatoes, her freckles like some deadly skin disease. I stalked toward the forest. My shirt chafed at my skin, and the whole idea that I had gone to such lengths to steal clothing for that ignorant girl was so foolish I could not believe I had done it.

  Shoving the brush aside, I plowed into the thick forest until I could not see her. Then I removed my clothing without delicacy, tearing the thin fabric of the shirt, and ripping a seam on the breeches. Then I was all wolf, only I felt myself grown larger with rage. How dare she! How must I prove myself to anyone? I had fought and won my way to alpha, only to be shunned. I attempted charm and received scorn.

  I would show her how wolves attacked humans.

 

  -5-

  I tore out of the forest growling. Bebe, that little mutt, jumped to her paws, but then turned tail and ran. The girl stood and called for the pup. Then she saw me.

  Her mouth opened. Her eyes blinked. My wolfy mouth grinned, tongue lolling, as I slowed. I wanted her to see me. All of me. My, what wicked teeth you have! I made sure to show every dripping fang.

  Finally her disbelief faded, and she screamed long and loud.

  My mistake came from discounting the cattle. Who would assume that fat, cud-chewing bovines had any thoughts, never mind the thought to protect a girl? I might have, had I spent any time around such beasts as a child.

  I didn’t even notice the bull, focused as I was on the hateful girl, until it barreled into my narrow range of vision.

  Paws dug into the dirt to stop before impaling myself on the bull’s horns. I growled at it. Thinking it might be intimidated, I then attempted to dart around the beast.

  The bull bellowed. I had never heard a sound like this in my life. And he wasn’t the only one. Two other bulls in the herd bellowed as well, and then a stampede of hoofbeats shook the earth under my feet.

  With six large, sharp horns coming at me, I was forced to retreat. I ran as fast as I could toward the forest again. The cattle chased me for a short ways, then I heard the hoofbeats slow. I slowed, too, and turned to reassess the situation.

  Of course, the bulls were protecting the cows and the calves. That made sense. Not the girl. I rounded again, and kept wide of the herd. I approached the girl from the other side.

  I could smell her so clearly. Before I had not thought much about my hunger. Now I could hear her heart pounding and the scent of milk and honey on her and the pounding of her blood in her veins. My teeth ached to rip open her flesh, to cut through her meat and muscle, to crunch her bones and suck out the marrow.

  Now wide of the bulls, and with a clear line to the girl
, I charged.

  Unfortunately, the bulls were much faster than I had anticipated. They came at me bellowing, three tons of muscle and sharp hooves and horns. I barely managed to alter my course, still attempting to snap at the girl, who had run round to the other side of the tree, screaming – and one of the horns dug into my hip, lifting my hind legs off the ground before my skin tore.

  I howled, but I knew better than to stop. I dug in and kept running. I could outrun the bulls. The fire in my hips flared and burned. Still, I managed to get to the forest – the trees – safety. The bulls had stopped and now stood grunting and snorting with their ears flicking angrily. I slunk deeper into the wood to nurse my wounds.

 

  -6-

  Revenge. All I could think of was revenge. Though the girl had done nothing and the bulls had done everything, I wanted her dead.

  Werewolves heal faster than humans, much faster. The bull’s horn had gored my hip and torn up some of my innards, but it was merely a day later than I was able to walk with only the slightest of limps.

  I donned those discarded clothes and made my way into town.

  For days I skulked around the village. I begged for scraps, and slept in the gutter, and stole food from farms. All the while I kept my ears open. If there’s anyone people won’t notice, it’s a beggar.

  Gossip had come along quietly. “A wolf tried to attack my daughter,” said a man at the tavern one evening.

  “Must have been rabid,” said the man beside him. “Hope it didn’t get its teeth any of your cattle.”

  “Nah, was the cattle what drove the beast off. Anne was quite upset by the whole incident.”

  “We ought to hunt it down before it tries to attack anyone else.”

  “Thing’ll be dead in a day or two once it’s at the foaming stage.”

  “Still.”

  I listened and waited, but no one seemed much interested in hunting me down. Not until word got back to the Loupe family, that was. They might be more interested in a rabid wolf.