“Beast,” the girl asked, “Tell me again the story of the day we first met.”
The two were walking through the woods, one on two legs and one on four, though neither cared for such details. The beast turned to her, his eyes dark and shining with memory. It was a day the girl never could recall, but one he had recounted to her at least a dozen times prior to this asking.
“It is a sad story, even if it has a happy ending. Do you truly wish to hear it once more?”
The beast’s great paws left their prints in the dirt underfoot, his tracks far larger than those left behind by the girl.
He already knew what her answer would be.
“Yes. I like hearing it. Even the parts you don’t like telling.” the girl said.
“I enjoy telling it, girl,” he responded with patience, even in a moment of disagreement, “I only wish to ensure you won’t be upset.”
As they walked he spoke, and some of the lesser animals leaned out from their hidden places along the trail to hear the tale for the first time.
~
You were alone.
At least when I found you that’s what it looked like.
But it was plain to see that that had not always been the case.
You were once surrounded by people who cared about you,
Once kept warm by family.
Your Father built you a cabin in the woods.
His hard work was easy to see in each placement of the beams and the detail of the roof. He built you a house that would last through each season.
Your Father built you a home.
Your Mother collected dolls.
Some of them looked like you, and some looked like me and the other animals.
Some of them were young and some of them were made to appear old.
And though you liked the dolls,
Your Mother would not let you play with them.
Something happened, something I wasn’t around to see.
But your Father left,
And your Mother blamed you.
The animals of the forest did not come close due to your mother’s anger and yelling,
But it was because of her shouts that I was first drawn to your home.
She would chastise you for touching her dolls,
She would punish you for coming out of your room.
Your Mother became a woman of hatred and spite,
And when she became angry, she sought for others to blame to rid herself of the pain.
The other animals would flee,
For they could climb trees.
They could hide in burrows.
They could swim in rivers.
They fled because they were afraid.
You could not escape.
You were trapped in that home your Father had built.
You were locked in your quarters and forced to starve.
You could not hide, for there was nowhere to go.
I thought you were afraid,
And that was why you stayed.
But I was wrong.
I crept underneath the door one night,
I slithered along the floorboards.
I wrapped myself around your Mother’s dolls and I waited,
Because I wanted to see you.
I watched your Mother hurt you.
I saw that your room was an empty closet with nothing inside.
I saw that though you were once a girl surrounded by love,
You had grown to know only this world of pain.
And yet,
You were not afraid.
I admired you.
Though you were starved and tired,
Though you knew little outside of your bleak room,
You looked at your Mother’s dolls with hope.
You looked at me, and I looked back.
I knew then I had to help.
This home was no longer your home,
And your family was no longer your family.
And so the next time you looked at the dolls,
I revealed myself.
I unlocked your bedroom door,
And supplied what I needed to.
I urged you toward your sleeping Mother,
And we ensured she would not wake again.
The days following were difficult.
It was obvious that what food your Father had left had long expired,
And your Mother had eaten nearly everything,
Leaving only scraps,
Rotting,
On the ground.
But even then you were not afraid.
And so for you, I hunted.
I brought back meat and eggs from the bird nests nearby.
I found rabbits and toads near the pond.
And each time I returned,
You were had placed those dolls around you,
And surrounded yourself with their love.
And you had a family again.
~
The beast finished his story as they reached the cabin, the front door still wide open from the last time they left, for they did not believe in shutting out visitors. The girl stopped in the small yard as she was lost in thought.
The story always gave her something to pause about.
“Are you alright, girl?” the beast asked.
The girl was quiet, but did not ignore him, for he was her dearest, very good, best friend.
“Do you have fears, Beast?” she asked.
The beast turned to her, one of his large paws rested heavily on the first step before the door.
“One.” he said.
“What is it?” the girl asked.
The beast’s paw moved, and he took a step toward her, and then another, until his back limbs grew longer, and his front legs turned to arms. His fur turned to fine cloth, and atop his head, dark antlers grew to match the branches of the greatest trees.
He stood before the girl, and offered her his hand to lead her inside.
“Is it not obvious?” he said with a charming smile.
“My fear is being without you.”